Author's note: this is my first story, so the indenting and stuff is a little shaky, but I will get better. Comment if you want an update!
Chapter One
There is one fountain in the center of my city. It symbolizes two things, hope and the past. To me, it just looks like a mess of steel that for some reason is famous, but what do I know? I am Spark Winters . Yes, that's actually my name: Spark. My guardians thought that Spark was appropriate because my hair is electric blue, which apparently reminded them of a spark. Also, in a world full of mainstream names, it stands out, like me. Like I said with the fountain, it resembles nothing of the hope and past. I mean how could steal formed into random spirals resemble the past and the future? My opinion causes many people not to like me, maybe because I actually will question authority. I personally think my society is wrong! The reasons are very simple:
No color is allowed in the city, only our skin and our naturally colored hair. Buildings are white, floors are white, clothes are white, food is white, the oceans are white, and the animals are white. There is only one thing of color, the art and the music.. We'll get back to this later
2. Your parents are not actually your parents. Once your real birth parents have you, you are traded off to another family and your parents have to take another baby that they didn't give birth to. This explains my electric blue hair, my guardians have jet black hair. So honestly, you never have a real family. Some people know who their real parents are, but some don't. I don't because both my parents are thought to be missing. No ones seen them for ten years, and my guardians won't even tell me their names, only that they are missing.
In my city, nobody tells you what you need to hear, only what you don't want to hear. I hate this city. I hate everything about it. Being lied to about where you are and what other cities are like really does take it's toll on you, and you start to hate everything and everyone.
I want the truth, or I want out. Now.
Chapter two
They're are still some creatives left. They are in hiding, and the government can't do anything about it. You see, when our president came into terms he burned anything that could influence creativity. He took the paintings, the instruments, the markers, the pencils, and anything colorful and threw them into the now-white-ocean to sink down to the sand. The musicians and the artists started a war called the "war of creativity".
Of course, the government won and most of the population of artists died. But fortunately, some are still alive. But, they are in hiding, and I doubt they will ever come out again.
Today, it is Monday and I have to go to my lessons. Monday- Saturday we go to " the learning center" and learn math, astronomy, spelling, reading, history, and Latin. for seven hours Monday- Friday, and three and a half hours on Saturday. My favorite subject is Latin, because at least we get to learn something different. Today I wake up at 6:30am and dress in a white skirt and a white t-shirt and head downstairs.
"Hello, Spark" my mother says as I walked down the stairs. "Hi" I replied "Can you make me a waffle please, with butter?" "Sure" she answered and she started the stove. I went over to my white backpack and I placed my books in my bag "Latin, a guide" by Robert Williams first, then
" Astronomy" by Anne Samara, and finally my notebook for spelling and my homework folder. I look up at the wall, the plain white wall and just for a minute, I imagine what it would be like if it was something pretty and colorful. Perhaps maybe an olive green, or a sky blue would look nice. And maybe there could be a painting! A portrait of a flower, a flower that is blooming and healthy and has nice, colorful petals that make the painting look real. But when my mom says " your breakfast is ready" I snap back to reality and make my way to the white table. I look down at my waffle, it's fluffy and white. Then, I look at the butter, and just for a minute it seems almost yellow. I blink and look at it again, but it's white, like everything else in this world. I eat my breakfast, it tastes wonderful, like everything my mom cooks. I look at the time and it is 7:05, I need to leave for school. " Goodbye mother!" I say, "Goodbye, sweetie, have a nice day!" she answers "You too" I reply as I head out the door to catch the bus. I hear the roaring of the bus and I look up to see that the bus is yellow, not white.
chapter three
I shake my head. Am I going crazy? Things like this don't happen. My grandmother once told me about the city before our president came into term.
He will be in office until death. About forty-five years ago he was elected so not even my guardians know the old world.
"The world was beautiful" she would say
" the sky burst with color and everybody was happy. Our president was 90 at the time, and close to his death so we all knew what was going to happen very soon, an election." She paused, "Then, on the 19th of December, he passed.
"It snowed that day- a plain white, like the world we know today."
I had to register this. I had never known so much about my history before.
The school doesn't like us to know about the old life, because they fear that that would cause another war.
I then looked up, to see my grandmother crying silently, clear tears rolling down her cheeks.
" On my birthday, December 30th, our president: Mar Quentall was elected. He made the laws.
I'm sorry Spark, you never got to to see the colors"
"I'm going to make it happen again Grandmother, you wait and see."
I was nine. She's dead now. She never got to see the colors again. I hate myself for that, but I'm going to make her proud.
-------------------------------------------------------
I get on the bus. The color is gone. My best friend Lysel smiles at me and says "Your hair looks nice today, Spark."
"Yours does too. " I say even though she has a knot at the top of her black wavy hair.
" Are you ready for the spelling test today?" Lysel says.
"Yes, I think so. And you?" I answer
"Well you know how awful I am at spelling" she replies.
I laugh. Lysel hasn't gotten anything above a C in spelling since first grade!
" Have you noticed anything different recently?"
I am shocked. Has she seen the colors too? Maybe I'm not crazy after all!
"Like what?" I reply casually.
" I don't know it just smells different! Like.. fresher."
I laugh painfully. I'm stupid for thinking that someone else has seen the colors.
" Oh, yah" I say sarcastically.
She glares at me, and we both burst out in laughter.
The bus jerks to a stop, and I grab my backpack and look up, but we are not at the Learning Center.
