Personal Narrative On Tax Evading

I was eating lunch when I heard a knock on the door. I didn’t bother checking who it was because every Saturday at exactly 1:30, the same man would show up. The tax collector. I knew he was coming, as is his routine. I already had my money next to me, so I knew that I wouldn’t have to scramble to find it. I pull open the door and I am immediately confused by what I see.

“Do you have your tax money?” asked the tax collector, in his monotone voice. As he said that, I looked behind him and saw four guards with holstered guns and a rifles in their hands. They had a stare that made me feel very uneasy, and I quickly moved my gaze back to the man collecting my taxes.

I replied with a quick “yes” and stuck out my fist that held the money as he

Douglas. You must pay a minimum of 45 dollars, that is, if you don’t want to be put in jail for tax evading.”

I was in shock to hear this because just last time he came to take my money the amount that was required was 20 dollars less! I tried to explain and justify my reasons for not having enough money, but the guards and the collector just got more and more annoyed as I tried to reason with them.

I unwillingly handed over an extra 20 dollars to the tax collector and hoped that the guards would move to the next house with the collector so I could finish my lunch.

They went along, gathering money from other households. I went back inside and turned on the Tv while I finished eating. I woke up the next day to the sound of pounding on the door and multiple voices yelling at me to open the door. I quickly ran downstairs not knowing what all of the commotion was

I was interrogated on the way to the police station, where they would hold me until I was ready to be put on trial. The only reason that I could come up with to justify my actions was that because I didn’t know that the taxes were raised, I grabbed the required money in haste and must have ripped the bills in the process.

As I sat in the police station, I thought about unfair the whole situation. I was taken under arrest because I slightly tore and smudged a bill. I was considering my options when I heard one of the officer’s open the door to where I was waiting and told me that the jury was ready to put me on trial.

I was taken to another building on the other side of the city where my trial would be held. I was still thinking about what I should do, if I should just take the punishment, stick with the truth and tell them that it was an honest mistake, or if I should just try to escape the punishment and run away from this insanely corrupt city. I decided to run even though I knew that running could potentially get me into more trouble if I were to be caught, but there is such little freedom in this city. There are other places outside of the walls that contain these miserable citizens that would gladly accept