In a world where perfect was the standard, there wasn't much room for error. You either fit the bill, or you didn't fit at all.
So, what really happens when there's a glitch in this 'perfect' society?
In this adrenaline-packed story, individuals...
Thank you for checking out my story! Throughout the chapters, I will have photos as reference points for certain things. I'm a visual person, so I'm hoping this helps give you an idea of what the scenery looks like in my head! Above is an example of what I believe all the homes in Utopia look like.
Enjoy! xx
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7:00 am
Right on cue, my eyes shoot open and I'm soon met with bright lights streaming from my open window tucked in the corner of my room. I waste no time in moping over to the window, peering outside at the sunny atmosphere and feeling the 70 degree breeze fan over me.
I glance over to my right, seeing Hayden, one of my best friends, doing the same, and to my left, Charlotte. As per usual, we all exchange some greetings and remind each other to meet in front of the block's lamppost before we head off.
Since it was mid-week, I'd have 20 minutes to get myself together and another 10 minutes to make it to The Atrium, where I'd have to sit in a crowded lecture hall for hours on end.
- The Atrium -
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The Atrium was where all children, aged four to eighteen, would attend specialized learning studies to prepare ourselves for our independence. The girls would attend home education, cooking, and family-care courses while the boys focused more on agility, finances, and career-focused studies. At the end of our 9-hour day, everyone would come together to study the basis of Utopia - it's founders, laws, practices, etc. We'd then go home, sleep, and repeat.
I prance out of my secluded bedroom and into the spotless bathroom, indicating that my mother must have just finished her cleaning rounds for the morning. My ivory-colored uniform smelled of linen and was neatly folded and ready to be thrown on for the day. It consisted of a blouse, knee-length skirt, white socks, and shoes. My hair was then brushed free of knots and neatly tucked behind my shoulders so my pale skin was exposed.
"You look lovely, Arcadia," my mother greeted, giving me a gentle kiss on my head as I entered the kitchen. "Your breakfast is on the table."
I sit down in my usual place, wasting no time indulging in the sweet, fresh strawberries on my plate. My mother was always strict with meals, and upheld the standard that, 'the less food you eat, the more you blend in.' She wasn't wrong either.
There was one size of clothing for women and one size for men. Same went for the children too. We were all created the same way, so we are all expected to maintain the same physique - skinny and short. Once I started maturing, I soon realized that that wasn't my reality. While girls my age were as flat-chested as the boys, I was not. While most girls were straight up-and-down, my hips curved, giving me an "hourglass" figure as my mother called it. I was not short either and was four inches above many girls' 5'3 stature. So, I guess you could say I had to be very selective with my eating habits.
