Dystopian Story By Melissa R. Mendelson
The walls were white. The carpeting was as uncomfortable as the sheets. The covers were soft but stained, the pillow flat. The slippers barely held together, and I kicked them aside. The pajamas hung loosely, and I held the waist to keep my pants from falling down.
The bathroom light flashed on and off. I struck the bulb, and for the moment, the flashing stopped. The water was lukewarm, but I gave up wanting a hot shower. If I said anything, the water would be ice cold, so lukewarm would do.
Groceries were to be delivered at nine a.m. If I kept the person waiting for too long, the groceries would be delivered to someone else. I was already down to the bare essentials, which included crackers, water and some hard cookies. I made sure to be up and ready before nine, but before heading to the apartment door, I lingered near another doorway, my brother’s bedroom.
My brother’s room was left as it was the day that he was taken away. Tissues crumpled up on the bed and the floor. The wastebasket smelling of past remains. The bed no longer damp but still unmade. His pillow was not flat, but I still could not bring myself to take it. I closed the door and heard a shrill ding. The groceries were here.
“Morning,” I said as I opened the door.
The girl in the hallway had brown eyes and long brown hair. She stared at me as if I were a rabid dog. If she had a broom, she would have hit me with it. Instead, she pointed at three bags near the door. She hurried off, passing the guard nearby.
“Three bags? I usually get one or two,” I said.
“You won the grocery lotto for this month.” The guard’s voice was full of venom. “Now, get inside.” His finger twitched across the trigger.
The guard didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed the three bags and quickly pulled them inside, closing the door a moment later.
I definitely won the lotto. Six rolls of toilet paper. It was a challenge to make three rolls last a week. There were also eggs, milk, and more cookies. Soft cookies not the hard kind that could break your teeth, but I would still hold those for later. Twelve bottles of water. That was better than six, and ice cream. When was the last time that I had vanilla ice cream?
I put the groceries away in the small, dimly lit kitchen. Instead of making breakfast, I treated myself to the ice cream, carrying it into the living space. At first, I was afraid that they had drugged it, but what would be the point of that? There was also a seal, which I snapped in half. Its sound echoed across the room. Before I dug into the ice cream, I checked the expiration date. It was safe, at least I hoped, and I dug in, sitting on the couch and staring at another white wall.
After a few spoonful’s of ice cream, I got up and stretched my legs. Sometimes, I hated looking outside. I rather the white walls, but I loved to watch the rain fall, the storms roll in, and today, it was snowing. Giant, white flakes. They drifted down, all the way down to the pavement below. If I could open the window, I might have joined them.
My eyes drifted over to the billboard nearby. His skin shined orange from the lights above him, the lights even tried to make his smile bright, but they failed. His arms were outstretched into a wide shrug. “This isn’t my fault,” he seemed to say. “It’s what they want not what I want.”
A green light flashed from the building across from me. I lifted up my hand and waved. A red light flashed next. I smiled and returned to the couch, picking up the ice cream and spoon, and carried it over to the window, gesturing at my small victory. God knew that I needed a victory because I had lost everything. I had lost everyone.
No more flashes, but it was like that. They would return soon enough, and I sat on the floor, eating my ice cream. I glanced down, all the way down to the pavement below. What was happening down there, out there? Did they wake up yet? Probably not, especially if that girl with the brown eyes and long brown hair looked at me the way that she did. Inhuman, but he was doing a kindness. Or so he said by keeping us in here, in our little boxes far away from them. If you could call this, living.
An orange flash. I glanced over at the billboard. His face. That smile. His arms always in that damn shrug. I stretched my arms out wide and shrugged like him. Another orange flash. Were they amused? I was not.
The day crawled by. I took random bathroom breaks. The ice cream was gone, chased down by a bottle of water. I would love to watch some television or something streaming. I would love to hear the radio, listen to people talk. What were they talking about right now? Christmas, and the Christmas music was coming. For that whole week, the tunes would be blasting throughout the building, even after midnight and into the next day. I hated Christmas songs, but it was still better than the quiet.
Red flash. Sometimes, I wondered if they were flashing at me. Maybe, they were lonely too, and this was their only way of communicating. Orange flash. I despised that color. Green flash. That looked nice with the falling snow, and it was falling harder now. Winter was here, and Christmas lights could be seen in the distance. It was December. I missed Thanksgiving. I don’t remember the last time I celebrated Thanksgiving. I think it was before he won, and I surprised myself by crying. I thought I ran out of tears.
The flashing stopped, but it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t my fault. I glanced over at the billboard. Yes, he was watching us.
It was getting late. Tomorrow was another day. I realized that I didn’t have dinner, but when was the last time that I actually had dinner? It was before my brother got sick, and when he didn’t get better, they took him away. He never returned home, if I could call this place that, home. I don’t think I can.
Suddenly, a bright, orange flash, followed by a loud boom. A building similar to mine crashed down to the ground. A giant cloud of dust rose up and covered the window. Through the dust, I could see another bright, orange flash. He was no longer being kind.
I closed my eyes and waited. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t count. Nothing happened. When the dust settled and the screams fell silent, I looked at the building across from me. One flash now. Red. Red. Red.
“Is this how I die?” I asked the room, the living space that I was trapped in. “Is this it? The end?”
Whatever happened to the buildings nearby seemed to be over. At least, for now, so nothing left to do but go to bed. Maybe, this building should fall and with me in it. Maybe, in the next life, I would be free and not condemned for being born as I am.
As I stepped away from the window, the building across from me flashed a bright, orange flash. As the building fell in on itself, I saw the little flashes that kept me company. Green. Red. Orange.
Another brilliant orange flash. It was a child standing by the window, holding a traffic light in one hand, the other pressed against the glass. Then, they were gone.
Would I be next?
Bio: Melissa R. Mendelson is a Horror, Science-Fiction and Dystopian Author. She is also a Poet. She recently re-released her Sci-Fi Novel, Waken on Amazon and Amazon Kindle. She is also the author of a poetry collection called, This Will Remain With Us published by Wild Ink Publishing. She has a short story collection “Better Off Here” and another book “Names Keeper” both of which can be purchased below.
She can be found at her website HERE.
Melissa has several stories posted to The Yard. They can be found HERE.
Her books can be found below, or in our Bookstore.
“Name’s Keeper”. Amazon Affiliate Link
“Better Off Here”. Amazon Affiliate Link
“Waken”. Amazon Affiliate Link
Her other books can be found through this Amazon Affiliate Link
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