Here have a preview of How We Harvest The Sun:
We were six when the first bombs fell. We were eight when they finished the strike. We were ten when our fathers were sent off to war, and we were relocated to our new families. We were eleven when we were each tattooed with a number and named 'The Ruff'. We were twelve when the first test started. Today we are testing our fate for the 5th time.
Today is T.E.S.T.Y. Transhumanity elimination standard for typic youth. A day where the authentic undergrads are separated from the peculiarities of disorganized minds. At least that's what it says on the pamphlet. In plain English, TEST Y, commonly referred to by us Ruffs as the Harvest, is a series of experiments, physical exams, test, and injections to determine whether you get to move into the next grade and must do it all over again or be ripped away from your demonic parents and taken off to a lab where they 'fix you'.
This makes me sound like I don't like my family, when, to be honest, I got off easy compared to Julian or Kasey. Maybe a bit strict and harsh but certainly not bad. They love me, or try to, and my sister, someone I'm not related to in any way, has always been by my side. She always tries to remember my birthday and when I first met her, we would make cookies every day after school.
Now, the world's obesity rates got to the point where all we're allowed is little spheres of supplements and a dry piece of bread each morning. In just a few hours, every Ruff in the country would by going to their schools, into their classrooms, and fearing for their very being as they take the test. Among them would be Nyla, my 'sister', Kasey, the person I'd stayed in a bunker with for six months, Eric, a poor messed up kid with legs for days and eyes made for sunsets, Marcus, who I didn't much like, and Julian. The kid who'd come up to me on the 13th of October and said happy birthday. In just a few hours, they would be sorted into the gifted and the specials. Nobody wanted to be a special. Being special meant being different and being different meant being important and being important meant being dead. None of us wanted that except for maybe Eric, but that was besides the point.
Julian and I were supposed to meet up this morning. They didn't like me to be late, but I'd somehow caught wind of H69B, a rare stomach virus nicknamed Hanahaki that wasn't fatal, but terribly painful. It made me throw up cherry blossoms and blood for weeks. No one quite knew why, but no two cases had the same petals.
My friends and Marcus had come over almost every day to check up on me until Nyla made them leave. Julian and Kasey sometimes snuck in through my window to watch scary movies in the middle of the night. The state is forced to keep me home from school today because Hanahaki is contagious by touch. Nyla made me wear gloves everywhere and still had to burn my sheets every night.
HAVE FUN WITH THE MYSTERY ONE OF HIS FRIENDS DIES HAHAH WHICH ONE
HMMM
IDK
JK
I ALREADY WROTE THAT PART
