Without warning the red light goes off, the unique single sounding tone echoing out with it. Time to get ready. She stood walking up the small stairs to the room that held all her clothes. Seprate from her own reading room and her own bedroom. The blue skinned woman and man, seated at opposite ends of the couch not moving a single bit. Not even having reacted to the light and the noise, not even to her footsteps going up the stairs. Not to the golden skinned boy, younger than her, as he walked in the front door. She paused to watch his skin go blue, like a toxin. She walked into her room, the one with no door. Having no door was bothering her, for no one in the house would bother to look or stare anyway. She pulled on a plain shabby black top, with shabbier pants and no shoes. There was nothing for her to hurt her foot on outside anyway. She let her hair tumble down her back, un brushed and messy. No makeup, nothing. Her skin gold.
She waited for it to go again, having to listen and look for it. The chair flew back, such was the force she stood up with. Two beeps and two flashes. She walked down the stairs noise reaching the ears of the others this time, as they turned to look. She should not be coming down the stairs. Not now. She only would so that she could go outside. And it was not time for her to go outside. Not yet. Their eyes followed her, not another part moving, like ghouls.
The door would not open. She pulled, but it would not give. It was not her time. Eventually she gave up and jumped out through a window. The ghouls should have stopped her, but they knew not how. Outside, doors opened in synchronisation. Wool-clad sheep flocked in hordes outside. Her eye line purposefully avoided. The uniform walls of the solid square houses were more human. More human than the wool clad ghouls. She walked. Aimlessly. Without purpose now that she was out here. This was her purpose. The others looked at her seeing her with blue skin, not gold. They did not see her. This was not her time. How dare she. She was like a poison. But one that no one had ever encountered.
The black cotton stood out among the red wool. The plain face. The non treated hair with the edges of grey just slipping in. They stood, robots in their own right just watching. What should they say, what should they do? Should they approach, or should they stay away? Who was she, WHAT was she? She wasn’t one of them. The girl walked right past a medicine tent, the staff newly changed into red wool, giving out shots for colds, for cancer, for AIDS, for mosquito bites. She knew that not one of those shots would fail to do it’s job. No illness. No death. This is why the world was like this, this world outside so alien.
She walked through the red world. Red light, red houses and red clothes. But she knew that in three hours it would all be a new color. For a new group. She would not have seen one face under the age of twenty or one over the age of thirty in the crowd. The red group. Stark contrast with her face of forty. She was not one of the color red. She was one of the green color. Why was she out here? Did her training wear off? Was she color blind and deaf? Did she not know which color she was any more?
Surely in school they had taught her what she was to be. Surely. She wandered aimlessly. No purpose left. She could have counted the amount of families by the faces in the crowd. There was no control left. She walked and walked, not muttering a word or a whisper. It was not needed. She walked until she could go no further, having reached the great wall of the city. And so she sat at the base. Sat until the government came. There were no police to spare on her. They did not know what to do. How did they talk to one of the green ones, a green one wearing black, a color they did not use. They were ones of red, they had no training on how to interact with someone of another color. So they didn’t. They simply grabbed her by the arms and lead her back where she came from. Not stopping but going further. Only when she saw another flash of green in the crowd of red, only then did she smile.
Written exactly 25 hours ago, for, yep…. once again…. ANOTHER english project. I am NEVER going to get away with them. But I do like the work I end up writing for my projects so its all worth it in the end.
The project was to write a piece with a similar theme/concept to The Pedestrian by Ray Bradbury. I based mine on the idea that there are now so many people in the world that it has become so divided that certain age groups are only allowed out at certain times to prevent crowding on the streets as the result of medicine.
Tell me what you think.