Dystopian Narrative of Eiling

1717 Words4 Pages

The stone hollow echoed with dozens of small breaths and the clunky shuffling of chairs and tables. The lighting pulsated, from glowing orbs, the color of mandarins, positioned near walls throughout the room. Every child in the room was quiet in fear of disobeying and in pure content that today was another school day. Eilig sat in the back left of the room, at an ancient wooden desk with years worth of scratches and pen marks. Everyone else’s desks were identical: a scribbled-out heart an inch away from the corner, a deep, inch long scratch on the side. The silence was contagious until a woman entered the room, with hare-like features she clutched a clipboard, needle-like claws holding the soft wood in place. “Good morning, students.” An instant reply echoed from the motionless children in the room, including Eilig. A girl’s sooty-colored, large ears twitched briefly in from of him. “Please take out your books.” Eilig reached into his school bag, pulling out a hefty book. As the woman stepped down from the front of the room, identical books thumped into place on the desks. On the inside cover of the book read the Civilian’s Agreement: Stay within the lines. Be a helpful member of your community. Remain in your home at night. Do no harm. Appreciate beauty. Drawn next to the last one was a picture of the glowing lights and the indigo city, in full color amid the black-and-white of the rest of the text. He began reading the assigned section. 200 years ago our brave state fought to eradicate the world of war and the ultimate sin of independent thoughts. Before our society was established, there were countless wars, genocides, and hatreds towards each other that were all caused by people’s individual brains. Here, in the present, we... ... middle of paper ... ... something unspeakable.” Eilig nodded, mortified. “You know.” She paused. “And for that reason, you have been asked to be disposed of.” Disposed of? What does that mean? He couldn’t speak. She stood up, without a word more, and walked up to him, stroking the fur on his cervine head. She chuckled, her voice bittersweet. “A silly-looking invention, really, the Survival Technology. Makes me feel like I’m in some fairy tale.” She walked back to her desk and pressed a button, speaking into a microphone. “Come and take him away.” A young doe walked into the room, eyes glazed and black, with markings like Eilig and a face like Eilig. She put her hands over his mouth before he could cry out and guided him away. Tears clouded his vision. Then, turning a corner, she shoved him through an open door into an empty room, locking the door behind him. The smoke began to pour in.

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