Bedtime Stories

I sat on the train with all of the other dishevelled looking teens. Many of them were so young, too young, maybe 12 or 13, just sprouting from childhood, only to be placed on a train to be shipped to some correction facility. Some were crying, others were sleeping, and I was just observing. I was observing all of the poor souls that were about to be changed forever. If only it was just a correction facility.