Creative Writing: Wild Boaring
Young Ophelia Lennox fights against a secretive order, an evil therapist, and a wild boar. This is to be her strangest birthday yet.
We do not wear red. Dark red is like the color of blood and even pink is frowned upon. They do not like it. Sluts and whores are called red women. We do not eat fish. We eat red meats and plants and beans and wheat. It's because they hate the taste. They do not trust the land beyond the fences. It is dangerous there, so we do not cross it. They do not like shopping. Clothes are delivered once a year, on birthdays. Girls wear long dresses with collars, and a white apron. Boys wear button-up shirts with trousers. Each age group has a color. Newborns to five-year-olds wear yellows. Six-year-olds …show more content…
The rain hammered harder than it had before. The men in suits walked behind me, occasionally taking to each other. Never to me. Like I wasn't there. I tried to listen in, but they spoke in low voices. We had finally reached a clearing in the woods. "This is far enough," said one of the men. I heard a click and I whipped around. A gun was pointed straight at my chest. In that moment I knew I need not fear the wild boar. I ran away as fast as I could, but the men were close behind. The ground was littered with tree roots and slippery with wet leaves and moss. I weaved past trees and boulders, ducking past stray bullets. I began to loose them, and ducked into a small cave hidden behind a cluster of trees. "You might as well come out," said one of the men, "We will find you." I stayed still, not making a sound. It was only then that I noticed a stinging sensation in my right thigh. I began to cry silent furious tears. The bastards had shot me. Cursing was disloyal. I didn't care anymore. Bastards. Assholes. Fuckers. Abbott had taught me those words. Abbott with beautiful eyes. Abbott who had probably been shot in cold blood. Abbott, who I hadn't been allowed to call my brother, but who was and always would