Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A THICK SMOG hung over the streets paved with concrete and gravel. Factories and brick buildings were eminent within the abyss of production and textiles. Concrete lumps smoothed over nature's hill crests and valleys. The tiny peeks of grass sprouting between the cracks were bound to wilt and wither away wrangled and poisoned by the dense layer of polluted air that grew thicker and thicker as the days went by. Nature trails and forests resided many miles away from the borders of the concrete jungle where the heavy scent of tar and smoke laced the air. The urban area infested with peacekeepers and factories was a place of grey and blacks, a veil hiding a sea of scarlet liquid spilled over war and repentance.
The marketplace was buzzing with people. Gravel crunching beneath, as footsteps, scuffled along. Peacekeepers situated at every corner, every couple of steps at their posts hoisting electrical batons and large metal handguns painted and glossed with black paint. The loud chatter and bustling of people infiltrated the streets. The long workday was over. Clumps of people piled out of the textile factories, all littered with patches of tar and grime. Children filed out of their schools going back home with their parents clutching their hands tightly. Intertwined fingers, symbolized something more than just a simple gesture, the nested feeling of fear lay heavy and a possible goodbye.
The crowded streets of district eight were filled to the brim with different people yielding familiar frowns for the day to come. Some hold an expression of anger, but most hold one of despair. The day that was to come was one that elicited the sheer concept of freedom as a foreign term, and a term that didn't seem like a reality no matter how much everyone had yearned for it. It was a star that resided billions of miles away covered under a curtain of lies, and a thirst for blood and power.
A young girl was amidst a group of workers. Face painted with black soot of the factory. Small cuts were welted into scabs littering the patches of thickened skin on her fingers. Brown hair tangled and knotted with some edges fried to crisp. Battered bits of a once mellow blue fabric but now a tinted pale, close to one of creme hung loosely over her body. A light film of perspiration lined her skin, grime and soot were smeared onto her cheeks and shirt. Tiny droplets of blood were inked to her dark brown cargo pants yielding rips and holes from the years of exposure. Her sore feet were adorned in light black combat boots mandated to be worn by all workers in the textile factories.
As she made her way past the crowded roads piled with people bustling around towards the market. Her hands pocketed, with her pinky prodding out of a tiny tear within the discolored fabric. A small weight of copper and nickel lay deep underneath the thick denim earned through multiple shifts spent hard at work in the factory.
The crumbling gravel had crunched beneath her rubber soles as she took slow steps towards the run-down acreage of the school grounds. Small children in the playground were oblivious to the hopeless curtain of darkness thickening as each minute passes on towards the next day, a dreadful day for all. They were playing with a youthful jolt in their step as they swung on rotting wooden poles. She stood there waiting and looking for one of her own little people. When she spotted him, a light smile took over her face.
