Low Price ::YoonMin::

Chapter 1

I pull my jacket tighter against my skin, wanting to block out as much of the chilled air as I can. It seems that every year winter comes in faster and colder. Each breath I push out leaves a trail of white air blowing behind me. I can only imagine I look like the trains— that once sped along the tracks connecting the villages— my father used to tell me about. I stay on the road, or rather, what used to be a road, out of pure fear that if I stray from it I will die out here beyond the safety of my village walls. The pavement has split apart from years of nature taking back claim to the land. My father used to tell me stories of cars, and how they could travel four miles in five minutes. At one time, everyone had a car and everyone could travel as they pleased. Now, they were only available in the capital, and I would likely never see one. I could never wrap my head around a contraption that could move so fast. My dad used to tell me it was better to not wonder too much. I've always considered that he was lying to me. That cars were made up. But now, as I walk on the marked and destroyed road I have the evidence that perhaps he had been right.

Dead leaves crunch beneath my feet; the sound is the only thing reminding me that I am actually moving. The feeling in my toes vanished in the first mile of my walk. I can only hope that I find my destination before my toes fall off all together. The trees that line the roads all creak the same way, all lean with the wind that wraps around them. Each footfall seems exactly like the last in this cold wasteland. Everything is dead or has gone to sleep; everyone has done the same.

My destination for the day is the market— not because I necessarily want to go, but because I have to. It's not exactly ideal to trek nine miles just to get hustled by some awful smelling moron, but it's better than getting nothing at all. Especially when getting nothing from the market before the first snow of the year means almost certain death. I would rather be hustled than buried.

Finally, just on the horizon I can see the first signs of a poorly built wall. A wall that used to stand as the outer signs of a mall. Nature has started to reclaim this as well and the walls are crumbling around bases of new growth trees. Dying vines hang limply, wrapping around columns like they are clinging to their last breath. Aren't we all?

I stop walking— for only a moment— to listen. I can hear the sounds of livestock, the shouts of angry men and women, the cries of infants. A strong stench of poverty is already clogging my nose. From my safe distance I can already tell why my mother insisted that only adult men go to the market. It's dangerous, of that I am certain. I can feel the chaos and terror radiating from the market in intense waves. I suck a deep breath through my teeth. Yes, I'm an adult— though only just recently, but I can't help the child like fear that creeps through me. Forcing as much courage as I can, I continue my walk to the market. My fingers curl around my coin purse protectively. I need to get an animal. Small like a sheep or even a young pig. Something I can raise and slaughter come December.

As I enter the broken walls, the smell intensifies. I hold back the urge to gag and instead look around. Flies buzz around my head; they dart around the vendor tables selling fruits and vegetables only to settle on the ass end of a cow down the lane. Rotten, pre-butchered meat hangs from hooks.

"Ten coins for a full rib cage! Best deal there is!"

I instinctively pull my bag closer to myself, fearful of someone trying to steal from me. My steps are uneasy as I walk through the market. How can people living beyond the walls of a village eat like this? I stop in front of a small stand where an elder woman is selling vegetables. Rotten tomatoes sit on the table, seeping their juices across the wooden surface and onto the dirt below. The woman stares at me. Her eyes seem dead and dark; yellowed teeth peek from behind chapped lips. I gasp knowing that she holds the image of my future if Park Village were to be attacked and destroyed.