Curfew 4 The Curfew is not the only law. In this marriage of justice and cruelty there is a bride: the Protectors. They came hand-in-hand with the Curfew; dutifully serving and vigilantly upholding. Each town, really only a disorganized, scattered grouping of young families and packs, had an Office. This is where the Protectors live (cleaner and happier than anyone else), eat (better than anyone else), and work. Their work is simple; make sure the laws are carried out. There were not many laws; three in total.1. Register all births within a week of the child being born. Failure to comply will result in swift punishment. Should it be found that this law has not been complied to then the child shall be taken from the mother and killed before her eyes. The child was never registered, so it is not recognized as alive and its death does not matter. This is the law.2. The Curfew must be carried out before the hour of midnight on the person’s eighteenth birthday. Should thi
Curfew 3Your children don't understand, you know that, but you can't bring yourself to tell them. Your children have grown so much in the last two years. Your oldest daughter is six, and your son is five, little Johnathan is two. They don't understand why their father began to cry when they said, "Happy birthday, Mama!" It's better for them not to know, so they won't be afraid. You wrap your arms around John and tell him he needs to be strong. Your husband, the love of your life, is only one week younger than you. You shudder at the thought of one week from now your children will be orphans. There is no other way though...the Curfew is law. "Please, John," you say, "I don't want you to cry for me. We'll be together again soon." He isn't comforted by your words, only keeps on sobbing. Your surprised at your own sobriety, you don't feel sad facing your own demise. You don't feel scared, not even nervous. There is a blanket of calm wrapped around you, leaving you shockingly numb. You hold J
Curfew 2You fall to your knees, like the gunshot was a bell telling your legs it was time to buckle. You had promised your brother you would try to be strong, but seeing him like this....so much like your mother....it made you want to retch. The blood that had splattered across your face burned like fire. You scrub ferociously at it with your sleeves, even though you know you're only smearing it on your cheeks. You inch closer to your brother, laying in a heap in the street, you try hard not to look at the wounds he'd given himself. Your brother is....was, eighteen, in this world he was ancient. Right now, though, he looked like a child. You brush his hair away from his eyes, which, thank goodness, were closed. You know how much he'd always hated when his hair was in his eyes. You remember sitting beside your mother, so many years ago, you had only been a little thing then, a baby of four. You had cried and clutched at her, refusing to let go even as they came to take her body away to wherever
100 theme challenge: IntroductionI am me;Plain, simple, to the point;Oh?That’s not enough for you?All right then;I am Samantha;Everyone just calls me Sam;I am a student;Cramming her head full of knowledge she’ll never use;I am a writer;Hoping to one day make something worthwhile;I am an artist;Sketching doodles on her notes in class;I am a daughter;Forgetting to clean her room;I am a sister;Telling you to get out of my room;I am a friend;Sitting up till 3 a.m. texting people I see every day;I am a girl;Painting her nails black and playing with pocketknives;What can I say?I am me.
Curfew It's been a long time since the Curfew was set. The name was taken from an old term for a limit adults put on how late a child could stay out. Now, though, it is a limit on life. No one knows anymore who, or what, it was that set the Curfew, it was so long ago. Though it's been set and that is the law of the world. That when you turn 18 it is your time to die. Some choose how they will die; a gun, pills, sometimes something lavish like a public hanging. No matter what, on your eighteenth birthday, you will die. Every day is someone's birthday, and today, it is yours. Your father was 17 when he met your mother; his Curfew came up before you even had a chance to see him in this world. You're mother, though; she was only twelve when she had you. You remember her well. You’re most vivid memory of the woman was standing with your younger half-sister as she met her own Curfew. She had alwa
The Midnight ChildrenHe walked the graveyard,Silent and somber,Tombstone after tombstone,He read the names,He read the dates,He made a story,He made a face,For each soul,Beneath the dirt,In the graves under his feet,Alone,The night peaceful,The hour of midnight,Full moon bathed the night in silver.He strolled,The graves led way to trees,Stone to wood,He knew,The trees, shrouded in dark, led to her,He knew,Did he care?Did he care?No,She called,He came,That was their nature,Without thought,Without emotion,He didn’t slow,He didn’t quicken,His heart didn’t speed as other’s did,This was his world,This was his paradise,Nothing matter,Nothing,But her,She mattered.The trees looked like monsters,With their creaky fingers reaching,The wind was a demon,Howling and wailing,He looked to the monsters,A raven perched,A blink,A girl sat,She sat in silence,In wait,Her skin was like the moon,Pale white but glowing,Her eyes like daggers,Sharp, in