As a child, my biggest fear was that the world would end.
It led me to countless sleepless nights in my mothers bed;
to countless nightmares that would awaken me in a cold sweat.
Anything could happen at any time.
It only takes one thing, one event, one mistake…
My mother always brushed my worries away with a kiss on the cheek, gently assuring me
that ‘it was just in my head’
I wish I could go back to those days. When it was just a fear. Not a reality.
I wish I still lived in the beautiful city I once called home. Where luscious green trees and
vegetation scattered the roads, thriving under the golden sunlight that would engulf the city;
seamless glass buildings lined the streets organically, standing tall with pride and watching
over me like a loving parent – this city nurtured me and shaped me into the person I am
today and I am forever grateful for it.
If only I could experience the city again. Just for one more day. I’m going insane with the
same routine every day. Like clockwork.
Everyday Is like clockwork. Nothing’s ever late, everythings always expected.Nothing new
ever happens, nothing new will ever happen.
Because our lives are like clockwork. Day in. Day out.
Tick Tick Tick.
8 AM, wake up
9 AM, lined up outside our residence and searched.
Searched for what? It’s not like we even have the freedom to go to the shops anymore. Not
by ourselves, anyways.
Anyone who has anything threatening will be shot on the spot and taken away.
Two weeks ago, a boy in my residence named Billy was killed for having a safety pin on his
trousers. His mother had to watch him get killed right in front of her glassy eyes. She was the
one who put it on his trousers.To keep them from falling down.
Tick Tick Tick.
9.30 AM, eat our morning rations – either a bowl of porridge or toast. No butter.
Tick Tick Tick.
10 AM, Expulsion.
Boom.
I collapsed to my knees as the blaring siren pierced the damp air, ringing in my ears
continuously until my ears felt like they were bleeding. Every day, the shrill sirens
reverberate across the baron landscape, its achingly high tones instilling a sense of urgency
and foreboding.
I should expect it, it happens every day at 10 AM. No earlier, no later, the penetrating sound
alerting us that expulsion has commenced.
“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12
continuous hours.” The same lady states, emotionless, over the speakers.
I’ve heard her voice for what seems like thousands of times by now. It’s routine. I’ve learnt
how to deal with it. How to survive till the end of the day with only a few new scars.
I still remember the first time I heard the commencement speech, I was terrified. But hearing
it now, among the last remaining survivors, all I feel is numb.