The First Time

• Lucille Gallagher, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

Black shiny shoes, polished every morning. Long woolen checkered skirts with thin stockings for the woman. And a blouse that is strictly the colour of navy blue. Hair slicked with lots of jell to lead into a highly sophisticated bun. Walking around backs straight with always papers in their hands. Men pretty much the same, loose end pants the colour of pitch, and tucked in a long sleeve tight checkered shirt. Short slicked back hair. And always preparing for meetings.

That is what I was born into. Everyone was born the same. Not one human different. When I was only two years old I knew what I liked and I didn’t want to look like everyone else. By the age of eighteen I was kicked out and this is my story.

The second night being alone I could smell the sweet smell on dinner food and leftover strawberry frosting sitting by the kitchen window sill it’s smell slowly disintegrating into thin air. The sounds of music dancing footsteps behind me but in front of me only the left over rats scraping through the rubbish. This was the dead part of this city I could just tell. The smell of trash rotting and dead animals all among the growing some of legs still twitching leftovers searching for survival. Nothing to but these animals and further darkness rolling over the forest of heart and soul.

Grabbed by the throat heart throbbing. I was being pulled, pulled into the pool of darkness. I felt the shine of a weak torchlight shine across my face causing my eyes to flicker open. I sit up straight getting ready to defend myself as I had learned when I was only ten. But no these people were like me frightened but ready young but already old. I could see it in their eyes.
“Who are you?” I unsteadily whisper.
“We were thrown out just like you, we have watched you through the whole thing.” Said the girl to my left with tears filling up her eyes. She was probably like me new to this place.
“Your one of us now. Follow us and you will be alright.” Said the average looking boy trying to sound confident but failing miserably. I said nothing, they helped me up and we walked until we were a couple meters away from the gate.
A quite looking boy whispered in my ear warning me by saying, “Get ready to fight.”

3, 2, 1 Fight a beastly looking girl roared and all lights around us flickered on, we were in battle. Not knowing what I was doing I fought. I approached the fist guys and I ducked his fierce punch and swung my leg at his head, he fell over and I gave him a couple on last punches and moved onto the next. The tense was real.

4 days later: I will never that battle me and my team train harshly every day and I know that battle won’t be our last...