The Art of Expression

Chapter One

NOT EDITED                                                                                    

I rounded the corner of one of the many abandoned buildings and slide my back down the rough brick wall. I place my sketch paper in front of me and pull out a pencil that is the size of my thumb. Starting, I draw circles and patterns getting more detailed with cross hatching, adding form to my design. This was my favorite part of the day, getting way from my controlling, manipulative government. I could express myself in my favorite form, art. Even though was basically outlawed. In an instant my papers were ripped from my hands. Crap, maybe it was one of my government loving friends. I hesitantly shifted my gaze to the hands that took my sketches, they were covered in black, protective gloves. Definitely not a friend.

"What are you doing!" The man shouted at me. I didn't answer the man, but glanced my russet brown eyes over him. He was also covered in dark, sturdy clothing, weapons slung around his waist, and a lighter in his other hand. He flipped the lighter open and caught my papers on fire. All my work and detail, quickly burst into flames.

"Wait, stop! What are you doing?" I asked, my voice sounding stronger than I felt.

"I should be throwing you in jail," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. The officer dropped my destroyed artwork to the ground and twisted his metal-toed boot on top of them, then stormed off.

I wiped my hand on my ill-fitting beige skirt and quickly walked to my house. Along the way I passed a blur of buildings, most of them empty, shut down because their business had creativity and color. They had clothes in every color and pattern, a pretty radical thought in today's society. Every building and shop was the same, a grey brick building, seven floors tall, one front door and window. The offices and businesses still open had a name sign above the door completely in black. Everything here is a copy of another, the buildings, houses, even people are complete clones.

I don't know how I find my home so easily each day, they are all exactly the same. Just like the rest of this town and the rest of this country. I opened the door in stepped into my white and gray kitchen. I turned my attention to the people sitting at the table, Dakota and Brandon. Oh, they were coming over, that was today? They were both wearing the same outfit as me, Dakota had on a plain beige skirt, Brandon weareing faded tan pants, a baggy oatmeal colored long sleeve top, and black flat shoes. No accessories, nothing added, because once again self expression was extremely frowned upon.

"What took so long?" Dakota questioned. She was completely supportive of the way our country was controlled, she thought it was helpful and necessary.

"Woah, no need to grill me I'm not a piece of meat," I joked. They both gave me blank stares. "Ok, ok I got into a little bit of trouble with the authorities."

"Again? What happened this time?" Brandon asked me the question this time.

"Well I went behind a deserted building on street nine to draw and an idiotic officer showed up, took my papers and lit them on fire,"

"Don't you remember what happened to Brianna?" Dakota screeched.

"Yes, of course that's why I hate the leaders of our country. I just don't know how you still like this stupid system when that happened." Brandon stumbled out of his chair and left my house slamming the door behind him.

"Great look what you did, Jackie!"

"How is this my fault you brought her up!" I shouted, my voice cracking. Dakota left the same way as Brandon, slamming the door behind her.

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Sorry it's a little short.

Comment any mistakes you find.

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