Genesis~The Collection

Story Teaser Number 3, Submitted By Roro_Cano

Roro_Cano
Genre: Dystopian/Romance

Synopsis:

It was repeated like a mantra in every history book, 'Blue is a thriving city'. I'm not saying I denied it, the evidence was black and white. The smiling citizens were proof enough, and there was more. Because, even the recessionary downturns of theft and murder, from one citizen to another, had been recorded as statistically nil over the past decade. A feat far-from achieved by most other nations worldwide. Similarly, commerce and happiness had been lingering at an unheard-of high, meaning that the poorest of men still had a warm meal to trudge home to.

But what only a whisker of the populace knew was that it all rode upon the labour of nighters. The nighters who would never see the light of day. The nighters who spent ten hours of that day in intensive labour without complaint. The nighters who knew nothing of their unjust treatment. How could they? They had never been subjected to any better.

And I had been none the wiser back then either...

A Memory In The Cold:

Damian:

It was as if silence had plucked the universe, but for my teeth. Like sharpened blades, shredding both gum and tongue, they gnashed against one another. Although I couldn't feel the carnage, as every sense of mine has long been held victim to numbness. Even the tears I am so desperate to shed have now refused to venture forth. I know now; the cold does not hold remorse.

Running a hand along the knots and tufts of my filth-ridden hair, I exhale. The steaming column of hot air that escapes my lips is a dragon's flame, except without the fiery orange blaze. Oh, how I wish it were so. Then, at least the cold would bother me no more.

In a trembling palm, I clutch a ball of treasures from my hair; A nest of leaves and sticks, lots of mud and strands of hair, and a million shards of ice. With an energy-wrenching throw, I release them and watch the contents soar. Even once they've been vaporised underneath the faraway suns hot blaze, I follow the remains as it joins my exhalation on its en-route journey toward the heavens. And once it has finally surpassed my mortal view, I imagine it coming to rest alongside the hidden-by-day stars.

Then, as I struggle to take on another breath, I discover that the cold has petrified my lungs. No longer can I breathe. So, as I reach upwards for that final-breath I had only just taken, in a sorrowful theatrical performance, the realisation that I no longer want to breathe dawns upon me. Then, upon collapsing, my mind wanders back to the first time that thought had ever crossed my conscience.

It was before they had assigned us to a family. A time I only seem to only remember less as the days go by. Only a singular memory has remained as vivid as ever. A memory, compared to any other, I want to forget the most.

Ava and I were in the reading room. It had been the sole expanse in that place that did not facilitate lurking gobblers. The room only had two outlets; A door we were prohibited to enter, and another that led to the main corridor. None of the other kids ever inhabited the reading room either as it lacked toys. So it had always been private. I loved that. It was always just myself and Ava, shelves of books and baskets of pillows. An out from humanity's omnipresent monitor.

We had been reading a picture book together when they came. To say the least, I had been straining to decipher words from the images I saw and Ava was gently falling into slumber on my lap. Her eyes were closed, but she still grumbled from time-to-time, or whenever I shifted my weight. So, when the lights flickered off and a mysterious washed-out light began to faintly glow from the corner of the room, Ava had begun to snore.