Every year we have the same thing. The ticket. Why? I don't know. The overpopulation problem, maybe. Whatever happens, they don't come back. Every year, we all have to go to the same place, and watch in fear that we might be next. Once everyone from your district is seated, the ticketing process starts. Hah... the worst process. You sit and watch each individual person get their individual ticket, as everyone slowly starts to fidget due to the fear of what would happen if they got ticket number 4671. Which would be all fine and all if there wasn't about 100 tickets with that number... and only 10,000 people in each district. People of all ages have to come, even the children... we don't have a choice. If we did we wouldn't be here. My ticket soon, the men in black with scars approach. Please, God, don't let it be the number... please, please, please...
Oh, God, no...
I looked at the ticket and it has the number. Soon they will roll call for the unlucky ones who have the ticket... They say the same thing every year, 'Any of you poor souls who have Ticket 4671, please, come up.' It is always the same thing every year. It never changes...
I look around as the one hundred people climb the stairs to our demise of the unknown. We don't know what will happen to us once we enter the room behind the auditorium. We can't run. they would shoot us if we tried. if only there was a way to not go into the room...
We all walk through slowly, the guards staring at us. Not even they know what is in the room, as they have to get tickets too. No one is free of this torture. But the shining light in the distance unnerves me. What is held in the end of this godforsaken hall?
Oh no... They are grabbing people from the line and taking them to different rooms...
What is this?
No... NO!
Not this! I read about this! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!
YOU ARE READING
Stories
HorrorA collection of my short stories, updated throughout the years to come Enjoy Also remember to vote and comment, thanks :)
