The White Flower

Round 4- The fading everything

Alarms blared and lights whipped around, the kids ran as fast as they could. Mostly teenagers, but, the ones who couldn't part with their siblings carried them in their arms. The children shook violently as their siblings pushed themselves further, I was the oldest and the first to defect. I collected people who I knew could see this place for what it was, people who knew the world is so much bigger. "Run! Faster!" I shouted, not to scare them, only to get them out.

"Thanatos! What are you doing? Where are you going?" My father screamed from the church balcony, I fought too hard to get this far, waited too long to get out. I kept running, parents filing out of their homes, yelling loudly for their children. I just kept pushing them harder, sweeping up a little girl who was falling behind. Her older sister was Abby, she was turning 17 next week. She ran with her baby brother in her arms, barely a year old. The spotlights chased us past the whipping post into the square, just as our feet trampled through the garden the shouts quieted. The men of our community running to the tops of the buildings we passed, I've only seen chaos like this once before when I was a boy. "Stop," I knew that voice. It crept into my room every night for eight years, abusing me, haunting my dreams long after he was done. Long after he'd moved onto boys younger, many of the boys that ran with me tonight. All of them were traumatized for different reasons, their faces flooded with fear, and their legs stiff as they fled. I couldn't help but stop, that voice that had controlled me for so long, kept me in order and kept me oppressed. I couldn't help but comply one last time, "what is the meaning of this?" Father Jonah's voice boomed across the field and cut sharply through the garden.

I turned to face the priest, he stood tall in his false god complex. He told us that if we left the world would bring us death, that only he could protect, and provide for us. I've rarely seen anyone say different, but if they do, well I don't know what happens for certain. But, they're taken to be 'saved,' and never seen again. If don't run, I'll never be seen again, I watched the group dart away. Abby stopping frantically, I had her little sister tangled in my arms, and guards were advancing quickly. One last look at my parents on the balcony and I ran, guards raced up from every direction. I was lean enough that I was just faster than them, their big guns dragged them down. Abby's brother was still wrapped tightly in her arms, her face slick with sweat and twisted into a panic. Another kid stood by her, Danny. He was only 11, but, he was stronger than any kid I'd met, stronger than me. While I was crying myself to sleep at night, he would console the other boys, or even sometimes girls the priest would visit at night. Abby wrapped the baby around her back, readying herself to run to me. But, before she could take a single step. Danny had darted towards me, I shoved Mabel into his arms. He looked at me with despair, "GO!" He turned on a dime, dragging little Mabel to safety. I watched them disappear into the trees, some guards futilely running after them. If this is the last thing I get to do, I'm glad it's this, I'm glad I got them out.

When the world goes black I dream of a woman, she had pretty brown hair and perfect brown eyes. They looked so soft, so nice. She spoke calmly and got straight to the point, "you can leave all of this. One day, you'll grow big, and you'll be old enough to know just how big the world is. When you do, remember to go experience it. Those who refuse to learn, stay ignorant." Then she just walked away, the glare of the bright sun blocking me from watching her go. I was in the town, barely 12 years old, handing out flyers for our community. The Ark Cristian Community, led by Father Jonah. She opened my eyes, and when I finally came to, it was her voice that gave me strength.

"Stand Pinocchio," my body convulsed at the sound. "Stand," slowly my trembling feet gained balance. The cold bit at my skin, looking down I was left in my boxers. We were under the cover of the trees, not too far from a familiar cliff. I'm 18, I've grown big now. Yet I never knew what being a man felt like until I was running scared across the garden. Until I wasn't scared for my life, but the ones relying on me. Standing here I knew. No matter how strong I grew, before this man I was merely a boy, a puppet.

Father Jonah lunged faster than I've ever seen him move, and in a blink, I felt weak. A knife he had pulled was dripping with something wet, something, red. Blood, the knife was dripping with blood. A fire was building in my stomach, an intense burning pressure. I looked down to see fast-flowing rivers of blood, it was all over me but there was no wound to see. I threw my slick hands up in defense, surprise blow after blow blew through my weak attempts to save myself. My knee went crashing to the floor, the other one following swiftly. Before I knew it he was on my back and my lungs were gasping for air, clawing at his hands like a wild animal. His hand was woven into my short hair, there was just enough for him to grip and rip back. His knee in my back and my head tilted high, I was sputtering, blood wetting the corners of my mouth. Something pouring out of my neck caused spots to dance around, blocking my view of the night sky. "Goodbye Pinocchio." A firm kick stopped me from slipping away completely, I stopped struggling for air as the wind whipped around me. I felt like there was zero gravity, it was a blissful feeling to distract from the fading pain.

The fading everything.