A world with no flowers

A very bleak world.....


2. Our society

I had no name. No real family. Our 'family' was set up with a mother and father. The father was the one who controlled the family and told us what the Perfects called the new normal. We did what they said fallowing blindly. Our mother was the chosen spouse of our father. It was her duty to care for the house and children. They both helped to 'make us perfect.' I had what you may call a brother. He was younger than me and was still imperfect. He would sometimes slip up and would be put away. I fear one day he will be sent away for what he is.

To make us perfect we slept in what you could call molds. They were very uncomfortable. We would stay in their days at a time when we had a sudden start in growth. The cold dark loneliness that bares inside those tombs was enough to make a man wish not to grow. We went to schools but they were different. We did not learn things like math and English, the only normal things that you would also learn is how to read. Our main courses focused on being perfect.

We get beat into shape, injected with drugs that mess with our mind. Sometimes people end up... imperfect. When they end up 'imperfect' they are either taken as slaves of the Models or killed. I've found old pictures of a sibling before me who was killed. They were born with a split lip, poor thing. I often think of them, I know it's imperfect and abnormal to think or mourn someone you don't know. I know that I can't let myself think like that. Yet my mind slips sometimes when I let the subconscious take over and the picture of him I wasn't meant to see appears again. His bright eyes. They were brighter than bright, they were pure, uncorrupt. 

I'm glad they didn't get to take that from him. I got off my bike and leaned it against the porch. I walked up the stairs dull and numb to all around me. I rested my hand on the knob but something made me hesitate before opening the door. The house felt different. 



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