Mack and I walked through fields of golden grains- a pleasant shortcut back to our regular lives in our region. My hand brushed over the grains, feeling its bristly, thin texture. I remember a time when these fields were filled with farmers and cattle. But when the population grew less, a need for crops and meat declined, as well.
As we approached our region, the knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter. I saw the crumpled city rising over a near by hill. The tallest of all the buildings, known as the "Needle" stabbed through the grey sky. The Needle is not only the Capitol, but it is the place in which the Exchange is held. Thousands of victims say goodbye to their families and line up, awaiting their decapitation. I knew I was going to be one of those victims. Again, the knot and more internal pain.
YOU ARE READING
Exchanged
Teen Fiction"The young people's curiosity poses as a threat. Yet the elderly know too much...."
