Forsaken Flowers

2

Though I really missed Declan, I had to continue on with the day, chores and more chores until 9:00am when school starts. Every child between the ages of 5 to 19 must attend school, the school is built of class rooms that connect to each other, with only one long hall to separate the class rooms. Every child learns in a room with other children of the same age, they are taught by teachers.

The learning mostly consists of, reading, writing, spelling, manners, society education, society economy, and math. It is to prepare the young generation for society in adult life.

It's very boring, i and many of the other children completely hate it, our learning is also based on the job that is chosen for us by the community. I was chosen to be a social worker, it would be my future job to keep everyone in line and to make sure no one is doing anything they are not suppose to do. Everyone says it's an honor to be a social worker, someone to keep the community alive and well. But to me it seems like a depressing job, every month a social worker must make sure every child has been tested, and the social worker must check every crack and corner of the community for children hiding from the test. Social workers are the ones to take the Zizanian children from their families. It is not a job I want, never would i separate a little kid from its mom just because I was told too.

Today at the school, it is beautiful outside, though everyone looks depressed, everyone knows what day it is. After lunch, we are forced to line up with are siblings, and are taken down to the community center, where the testing is done, they prick your finger, then they scan the blood, with some lazier thing.

My siblings look nervous, they each have only done it a few times, Missy
has done it 10 times, Lilly, 8, Addie, 6, and Micky, 4, however, I've been tested about 14 or 15 times.

They always do youngest first, Mothers wait in the 10 different lines as they each hold on to their screaming infant as the community nurses prick each baby in the foot. Each child up to the 4 year olds, who are accompanied by their mothers, scream their heads off, when the needle goes in their small finger.

But the five year olds and older do not scream or cry, because they learn in school that it is unacceptable for a older child to cry, no mater how much they want too. I look around, every parent in the crowd has a deeply concerned look upon their face, because they are in fear of the possibility of their child being sent to There.

I see the other children that surround me, they all look like they are blinking back the tears, I even see the young adults, 18,19,20, and 21 year olds, even they look a bit nervous.

Eventually, it was the 15 and 16 year old groups, turn. One by one they scratched us off the list, finally, it was my turn, the nurse called me to her, she told me to give her my hand, I put my hand out in front of her, she pokes the needle in my pointer finger, and draws my blood, she scans the blood, and without even looking at me she says "Next!"

I feel so relieved, but of course, nothing is official until tomorrow, that is when the social worker shows up at your house to drag you to There, if the social worker does not come to your house before 1:00pm than you are cleared. Is they do show up before 1:00pm than you or one of your other tested family members are going to There.

I walk back to join my family at the banquet hall for food and desserts, we gather around friends and family to celebrate another month with no disease. I mingle among school mates and family, most of the adults and elderly discuss normal community discussions, news, home, fond memories, and humerus times.

The young adults speak of their future jobs in the community, and discuss how find they are of the dessert.
The younger children eat like animals, and play childish games.
The little babies are curled up in their mothers arms and are either crying or asleep.
The children of my age group, are chatting among themselves, about school, and homework.

Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, but I sit alone in a chair, thinking about tomorrow, maybe I won't have to worry, I might not have the disease? But I could, can't I? If I do, what will There be like? Would the Zizanians eat me alive? Would I ever see my family again? But what if I do not have the disease, if so, who will have it? Could it be some one I know, or one of my siblings?

The tears start to swell on my face, I have to stop thinking about it, after all, if I, or my siblings, are sent to There, we will be fine, There is a place for the sick, There will find a cure for the incurable, There is a place of safety and stability. Nothing could go wrong
There.

After the gathering, my family and I, walk home, we arrive at are small, grey, house.
The sun is setting, and the crickets are chirping, there is a soft cold breeze in the air, it feels nice on my skin. I walk into my house, everyone is tired, everyone goes to bed.

I walk into my room, my window is wide open, like it always is, that nice, soft, cold breeze, blows in my room, I throw off my worn clothing, and slip into fluffy pajama pants and a ratty old t-shirt, I look out the window, the stars cover the sky, they are so beautiful, I feel at ease, which is rare for me to feel. I am not very concerned about tomorrow anymore.

I close my eyes and pray to God, for a safe day tomorrow, and that everything will be okay. My mother taught me that people use to pray along time ago for peace and safety, but eventually, after the terrible storm, they stopped, I would always ask her why they stopped, and she would tell me they gave up on love, hope and God, that's why the communities are the way they are.

I would also ask her, why should we pray if their prayers never came true? My mother would tell me that God has a plan for the people who will not give up on God. She said that plan includes me, but I still don't get why?