Uh oh what’s gonna happennnn
The sun is so hot. It burns my shoulders as I march like a soldier in the crowd of teenagers. It’s hotter than it should, however, because I’m wearing the only nice shirt I have. It’s a black dress shirt and it has a few holes in it. I have it rolled up to my elbows. Despite the dirt on my face, this is the nicest I have looked since my mother’s funeral. I don’t know why I am dressed up. My father persisted and it’s hard to argue against him. Apparently we have to look good just in case our life ends in front of everyone.
I’m shorter than most people in this crowd, but I peek through a hole to see poor Malachi.. he’a in my grade but he’s underdeveloped. His family is even more worse off than mine so he doesn’t get fed but every once in a while. I’d call him my friend, but he never speaks... so we haven’t talked. For some reason, there is always a silent greeting between us, but I’m not positive he knows my name.
As we approach the town square, the stage with its deep black stain seems to fly like a kite out of control straight into my eyes and travel from my eyes to my soul. The only thing that keeps me from passing out is the screen between the stage and the crowd. There have been riots on the Prime ever since the 74th. When the one person we thought would change something was killed. The screen protects the Prime representatives that pull our names. The doors on the side of the stage are twofold, with an airlock, so nothing could get through unless they wanted. God, I hope I am never in the space between.
I guess while we stand here, I’ll continue to rant my thoughts. The suspense hurts my stomach. And my head.. dizzy....
Nope
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I’m shorter than most people in this crowd, but I peek through a hole to see poor Malachi.. he’a in my grade but he’s underdeveloped. His family is even more worse off than mine so he doesn’t get fed but every once in a while. I’d call him my friend, but he never speaks... so we haven’t talked. For some reason, there is always a silent greeting between us, but I’m not positive he knows my name.
As we approach the town square, the stage with its deep black stain seems to fly like a kite out of control straight into my eyes and travel from my eyes to my soul. The only thing that keeps me from passing out is the screen between the stage and the crowd. There have been riots on the Prime ever since the 74th. When the one person we thought would change something was killed. The screen protects the Prime representatives that pull our names. The doors on the side of the stage are twofold, with an airlock, so nothing could get through unless they wanted. God, I hope I am never in the space between.
I guess while we stand here, I’ll continue to rant my thoughts. The suspense hurts my stomach. And my head.. dizzy....
Nope
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