Censure

Chapter 1: Send Offs

Keira's P.O.V.

cen·sure

ˈsenSHər/

verb

1.

express severe disapproval of (someone or something), typically in a formal statement.

"a judge was censured in 1983 for a variety of types of injudicious conduct"

noun

1.

the expression of formal disapproval.

"angry delegates offered a resolution of censure against the offenders"

synonyms: condemnation, criticism, attack, abuse

Censure.

A derogatory term. A label. Words on paper. A prison. The dictionary definition. 

Our definition?;

cen·sure

ˈsenSHər/

noun

1.

a minor who lives in the Well, who has been cast out to live with their fellow Censures due to the expression of formal disapproval by an elder

I slam the dictionary I hold in my hands down on my desk, angered and disappointed. Often times I find myself wondering why we accept this as what we are, as who we are. The Censures. It's sickening; I don't want to live a life undergoing spiteful side glances, uneasy stares, and hushed whispers. For, that's how the rest of the world treats us. We're viewed as mangy, dirty, dogs. Rabid pack animals. 

Filth.

The adults, as well as my parents, took the dictionary definition of censure a bit too far. Not only did they, "express their disapproval," but they gave the term a whole damn law. Our age group is not exactly, as you would say, obedient. The law enacted states, "Any and all children throughout the ages of eight to sixteen may be sent to the Well until reaching maturity, isolated from the rest of society until that point is reached, allowing them back into the community to live the rest of their lives."

I bet you're wondering, What's the Well? Well, the Well is the location we- adolescents, are sent after an act of misbehavior. Or, when parents/guardians can no longer handle them. Financial problems, lack of room in their homes, etc. Some children don't even know when they're coming here. It's one of two pretty pictures. 

A child peacefully sitting at their kitchen table, eating a healthy bowl of their favorite cereal, Fruit Loops. Suddenly all is dark. They wake and and are no longer sitting at the big round kitchen table, in the big square dining room, in the big blue house. The smell of vanilla whisked away, substituted for a damp, unplaceable odor. The comfortable lavender walls replaced by a dimly lit, and shadowy room. Confusion and panic set in. Life from there does not get better. 

Situation two. Fairy princess, dragon, Barbie, and Astronaut clocks read 5 a.m.; but the still of morning does not remain. Soon, an explosion. Wood splinters fly across the soft carpeting and smooth hardwood flooring. They scatter and flutter to the ground. The alarming sounds of unusually heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs stirs the sleeping children. Running. An abrupt stop. Suddenly another explosion rings, sending the child into a groggy state of terror. Eyes still puffy, widen in fear. Grabbed by the black laden men, they scream for mommy and daddy. No response.