Vices

  Chapter 4

  And so here I am. I had gotten one of the most sought after items in this day and age in a few minutes, and I lost it just as fast. Hopefully they hadn’t grabbed my backpack from that room they had found me in, or everything I went through was in vain.

  It’s kind of ironic. Being here gave me more freedom than being on the run in some ways. For one, I always had food and water, and I also had a “safe” (notice the quotes, it’s really not always that safe) place to rest my head every night. So now I wouldn’t have to worry about finding the necessities of life. All I had to do here was exist.

  But I guess existence isn’t all that great either. There were some more-than-unfriendly people and there was also all of the time that I had to sit here and think. And honestly, sometimes I really wish I could just turn my brain off. But unfortunately, it was one part of me that still functioned perfectly.

  Right about now I really wished I still had my iPod. Back before the world collapsed I loved to listen to music. It transported me to another place and it gave me the freedom to collect my thoughts and daydream a life that I could see myself living. But back when they were about to initiate the cleansing, they had halted the selling of music and art, and basically anything that could make you feel like an individual. Anything that wasn’t necessary for survival. They just wanted to bring our lives to a simplified version of what it had been before, and that’s exactly what they did.

  I used to love art and I absolutely loved to draw. The feeling of accomplishment you got when you created something new, something no one had ever thought to make before, was incredible. The way you could show emotion with the stroke of pen, or with the movement of graphite. How you could turn a piece from something loving to something evil. The power you held when you grasped your pen and scrawled your very soul on paper is something I miss greatly.

  I used to go out in my backyard and draw the towering oak trees. They looked like giants and the little bushes that were scattered around them looked like simple townsfolk. They were incredible in the way that they had survived and lasted when other trees had been uprooted and thrown out. They were strong and they would be hard to cut down.

  I’d like to think of myself as a powerful oak tree, but I know I’m not. I’m more of a young red bud or something; fiery with passion, but weak and still needing to grow.

  I knew something was up when they took away our ways of self expression. I knew they were scheming. And yet, I did nothing. Just like the rest of the world.

  The government had wanted to make it easier to obliterate populations. They wanted everyone to be the same. It’s easier to destroy when you don’t make connections and have common ground. They basically just wanted to look at us like we were cattle. And they certainly did that with most of us.

  I had been in one of the towns that were scheduled to be rid of last. Stuck in the middle of the Midwest; we really didn’t have all that much to offer and we weren’t a priority. And thankfully that gave me enough time to run. Some people turned a blind eye to the massacres that were going on, but I was definitely not going to let someone destroy my life when I could fight for it.

  The media never mentioned the Slay while it was going on. They were in with the government and that meant they had a get-out-of-jail-free card. They were free as long as they didn’t say a word. There were rumors of journalists trying to get footage and spread the word of the end, but they all ended up failing and being slaughtered like the rest of us.

  It’s strange. Whenever I think of those who had been rid of, I can’t help but think that I died with them. In a way I am dead. My life was destroyed and in that sense I will never be the same. But maybe it’s better that I left my old life behind. No doubt it would’ve been difficult, or impossible for that matter, for me to survive if I hadn’t forced the memories of my past life out.

  This life I am living has given me abilities I would’ve never had to use in my previous one. Since the end, I have learned how to fight, I have learned how to steal, and I have learned how to deceive. And all of those things I am not proud of. But when the world changes, so do you.

  I’ve graced this earth for 21 years, and surprisingly enough, I hope to continue on with this trend of living. The thing about introductions is that they’re a waste of breath. Figure out what you want about me. I’m tall and brown-haired. Appearances aren’t as important as character, right? Judge my character.

  You can learn a lot about a person if you’re stuck in a prison cell with them.

  The guards gave me paper and pencil which surprises me, but it also excites me greatly. I’m not sure why they would give me the freedom. They’re probably just doing it to torture me.

  So why am I telling you my story? I don’t want the world to turn a blind-eye to this new age apocalypse. I want a message to be spread through my story; a message that speaks to people and opens their minds and their hearts. A message that tells you that you cannot allow yourself to become a sheep and be herded into a place of destruction and weakness.

  People had taken “freedom” for granted for so long that they would believe in anyone. This country I had come to love had become the greatest enemy to freedom. We once had presidents who led us into a future that was bright and exciting, but that age had ended long before I was born. Now that that country is gone, I hope that somewhere, someone will rise up against this newly implemented oligarchy and fight.

  Our freedom may be gone, but our integrity and our hope can never be shattered unless we let it. We cannot pin ourselves against one another, but must group as one and bring back the country that had been lost when the money started fueling politics. We need to grasp for our strength as a country and we need to live not for ourselves, but for everyone that may have to live in this damnable world we live in.

  I regret living the way I did. I regret it so incredibly, that it’s one of the few things that bring tears to my eyes. I took so much for granted and I desperately wish I could go back and start fighting before we had ever begun this deadly duel. I would’ve fought for my family. I would’ve fought for my friends. I would’ve fought for everyone that I had ever seen on the streets, every blade of grass that could grow on its own, every single belief I had ever held onto.

  It may seem like our country is completely erased. But I don’t believe that. I believe that even though something may be gone, it can be created again. I believe that if we come together as one with no fear, we can create a country that will not fall. That will stand until the end of time. That will stand until every citizen takes their last breath, not because of a malignant world order, but because nature has come to an end.

  One thing that I have come to believe since the end began is that I am not completely useless. I’ve also come to believe that every single thing in this world, in this universe even, is connected in some way, as infinitesimal as it may be. Maybe these words that I’ve written on this paper will be buried, and perhaps they will be found and maybe even read. Maybe when these words are read, hope will be transferred from me to the reader. Maybe this person will have the courage to stand up or to speak out. And maybe with them, another person will find the strength within themselves to believe in something again.

  I think that’s truly our greatest problem right now. We need to start believing again.