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Grade
7

I opened my eyes expecting to see the colors of the world. I was greeted with only darkness. I realized that I hadn’t lost my sight. Instead, black cloth was draped over my eyes. There was a deep pounding in my head, as if something inside was trying to break out. As I started to regain my senses, I wriggled my hands. A sharp pain shot up my arm as my wrists clashed against each other. My hands had been bounded behind my back. My ankles had been tied to the legs of the chair I was sitting on. In attempt to break free I started to vigorously shake my hands and feet. I resulted in becoming out of breath from my failure.

I was confused. Confused in where I was and why I was here. Alright, let’s take things slow. First, what’s my name? I pondered on it, reaching into the knowledge I had left. Suddenly it all came to me in one big thought. Sebastian Will, 26 years old, lieutenant in the Federal Army, orphan. Hot and heavy beads of sweat poured down my face. I remembered about the cruel reality of the world around me.

In the 21st century, everyone suspected that the future would only bring benefits. Every single person on Earth held onto the hope of the utopian society that was promised to us. Amazing new technology, world peace, the end of world hunger. But things changed as more wars and dark thoughts erupted. Slowly the hope that everyone held onto changed into utter fear. They used to be excited in what tomorrow could bring. They kept thriving because they knew that the world around them would change for the better someday. Hope was their only chance in survival. And then slowly, the reality of the world hit them. And it hit them hard. They started to worry and fear about tomorrow. They stopped trying because they knew nothing would change. They had no more hope left in their own survival. Me? I was no different than the rest of them. My own friend Jordan Wilson had fallen under poverty after his business become bankrupt. He just got up and left, insisting that he had the power to stand on his own. I never saw him after that. I guess he was so determined that he chose not to remember his past.

Suddenly a cold hand grasped my hair, and forced my head up. The room smelled of dust.

“Sebastian Will.” A deep voice spat. He reeked of ashes.

“Well,” I forced a smile, “that’s me.”

“You have no idea what situation you’re in, do you? Wise guy.” 

“It’s quite rude of you to interrupt my sleep. I was just having a tea party with Jimmy Hendrix.”

A large fist was lodged into my stomach. The air caught in my throat as I uttered out a small cry. Immediately my stomach started flaring up, and I groaned in pain. I felt his grip on my skull tighten.

“3005, sound familiar to you?” The man before me growled.

“3005…? It was the year in which the congress was overthrown, along with everyone else in the White House.” I divulged. 

Yes, I certainly remembered, the mob of angry faces, the signs, and the screams. At the time I had always thought that the sights I saw at war would never be seen in such a country like this. But what I thought to be a foreign concept to the people of the United States was actually well kept. It was an actual revolution. The feelings and emotions of the people had been hidden for years. It was skillfully hidden because the sudden eruption of voices was overwhelming for us all. After this catastrophe the people decided to establish their own country, ruled by their own rules. It was complete chaos. Protests and fights broke out and no one was ever satisfied.

That’s what I learned. You can never satisfy everybody. When you try to satisfy one group, you have to sacrifice another.

“I know you remember clearly. That time is what we now call The Turning.”

“Hmm, doesn’t sound very original.”

His grasp tightens as my head is slammed against the surface of his knee.

“I’m going to be real blunt to you, pretty boy. You either keep up with the time or you get left behind. No one likes change, but it’s essential. The world up there has come to an end. Do you know how?”

“Well,” I hack a cough, “Is it because of a nuclear war or a Zombie apocalypse? Mass-killing virus that’s incurable? Or is it like that book I read one time and robots took over the world? Or did a crazy cult erupt a-”

My head once again collides against his knee. My eyes start throbbing as his thick hands start to quickly unravel the knot from my blindfold. The worn cloth falls from. I squint to adjust to the sudden light exposed to my eyes. I look up to see the man was responsible for my captivation. His eyes were bloodshot, but a hint of blue shone. He had long, sandy hair that was tossed and turned all around. He had scars all over his face and up his arms, burns were exposed. He had raggedy clothing. His expression shifted when he saw my face. He looked more scared, even when I was powerless and bounded against the chair. It’s as if he knew what I was capable of.

“Change,” His husky voice interrupted my thoughts, “change is what ended the world we know. After I fell into poverty, you government officials promised me change. You gave me change all right, but change for the worse. And now, everyone is scared of change. Change will only lead to our oblivion.”

The look on his face was the look of a lone man. A man who’s past was forcefully deprived from him. He probably had his whole entire life planned ahead of him, he probably had plans with his wife and children and he probably wanted to grow old and die in peace. But now the world as we know it has come to an end, causing him to forget about his past. That look of defeat, that look of depression. It looked so familiar. Too familiar.

The room was coated in dust, the four walls around us crumbling. A heavy metal door stood to the right, leading to God knows where. How long have I been kept here? How long have I been left behind? How long have the world around me suffer?

“Change,” I began, “Change is inevitable but necessary. Everything is constantly changing. Your thoughts are never constantly the same, your body will never stay the same. The world cannot stop changing. It will collapse. You people have never been able to handle change. Because you’re happy with ways things are now. You’re all scared if things get worse, and you’ll never get used to it if things get better. You’re stuck in your own shell, keeping the world out.”

I paused, watching his face slowly start to darken.

“You captured met thinking that I could bring change,” I continued, “But you don’t depend on others for change. You make it happen yourself.”

He stood there, looking down on the cement floor. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to believe, for his entire aspect in life to be flipped upside down. He suddenly bent down on one knee and began untying the ropes that entangled my ankles. He then rotated around me and untied the ropes that burned against my wrists. I broke free and immediately started to rub my wrists. A straight line was formed around my wrist, physically showing my state in captivity.

“Why did you let me go?” I asked.

“So that you can change as well.” 

“What’s your name?” I inquired.

He turned to me, with a melancholy look. 

“Wilson. Jordan Wilson.”

 

State
NJ
Zip Code
07670