Finding Charlotte

The Church

Things aren't weird, they're just different. And different isn't bad.
-Lori Duron
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Once I'm outside, I soon discover that it must have rained over night. The dull green of the plastic grass is slippery with water as I try to gracefully walk through the trails of the houses, like everyone else does.
But I am not graceful. As I slip and fall into the hard plastic, I feel something tingle against my back, even through my orange jacket.
All my hair has fallen out of the back of my mask.
I tilt my head up to realize everyone around has stopped walking to stare at me. At me!
"Your hair has fallen," they say it in sync.
Perfectly paralyzing and dead of any expression.
I feel blood rushing to my cheek and am incredibly grateful for the mask that hides me.
I reach up and attempt to shove my hideous blond hair back up under my mask. More of my hair falls out under my wet gloves.

It's a well known fact that guards are posted everywhere. Guards are the only ones who look different. They wear black helmets that cover their faces, thick vests and speak in the same deep, grim voices. They're only there to help us, enforce the laws and keep us safe from those who don't. I have never had a reason to be afraid of them, but as two guards dressed in white, marched towards me, I felt terrified.

They march up to me and pull me up from the ground like I'm weightless. I wiggle uncomfortably under there grip, I don't like being held down. I kick out at the guards and make a scene, try to get anyone to help me. But no one moves, all afraid of being different from everyone else.

They drag me to The Church, the building of our government. Again, I feel fear. The building of laws and punishments, and I'm headed right for it. Having committed a pretty horrible crime, too. Showing hair is punishable by situation.
In school history, I was told before the war, there were churches everywhere. A place where everyone was welcome to worship a creator of some sort.
After the long war, most of them had either been bombed, torched or just destroyed. Then came the peace, our keepers rebuilt one church in a sign of relief in the war being over and started over.
Our keepers, the government of our society, decided that in order for them to prevent any other conflict, they might eliminate our differences.
So they made everyone the same, our identities became numbers and we began to dress to cover our differences. No one really talks much, because of the curiosity law. In exception of school, then we are allowed to ask question related to an educational topic. But most of the time, I like where I live. Everything is so comfortingly similar to everything else.

The path they bring me down is weird, twisting and turning at any point possible. I've never been down this path before. I'm scared.