Author's Note: Hello one and all!!! Sorry, I got bored, and hey! This is that thing I posted part of once...
Merry Christmas?
What’s with society? Okay, let me be more clear-- what’s with my
society? I’m Whitney, just Whitney. Where I’m from we don’t label ourselves
with last names because that means we’re related to someone. No, in my world
we’re separated by gender. We’re not allowed to know who we’re related to and
if we do fall in love then we’re evacuated. Well, that’s what we’ve been told
anyway.
Personally I’m not that interested. Right now I find myself in the
showers. Forty three women stand in the stalls. None of us were uncomfortable
with walking around naked. This is how our life has been and we’re used to it.
Little girls ran across the tiled floor, older women gossiped.
From a distance I saw several familiar faces. But most of the
women I saw were older than me by at least forty years.
“What are you staring at?” Amy snapped in front of my face. “Are you even listening?”
“What? Oh, sorry..” I hadn’t been listening.
Caroline had caught my attention. One of the girls my age who was
in the shower room with us. Quickly I smiled at her and looked at Amy.
“What?” I asked again.
“You totally didn’t hear what I said at all, did you?” She asked.
“Not a word,” I shrugged. “Tough skittles.”
“God, Whitney why are you so weird?” She sighed, shaking her head.
“Maybe it’s all of the fruity smells mixing together,” The shower room smelled like a
million different fruity shampoos.
“I shouldn’t tell you important things when you’re high off fruit,” She nodded,
hanging her towel on a hook.
“Exactly,” I agreed, opening a shower curtain.
“You’re such a nerd,” She laughed as she stepped into her stall.
“Are you just finding this out?” I laughed.
“Whitney!”
Caroline stopped me from closing the door to the stall.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Would it be cool if I talked to you later in the rec room?” She asked, wringing out her
hair.
“Totally, totally cool,” I smiled.
“Awesome,” She smiled. “I gotta catch up with some.. People, but I’ll see you later!” She
waved and sprinted away.
“Smooth, Whitney. Smooth.” Amy laughed.
“Shut up!” I laughed.
“You’re so weird about it!” She tapped the wall in between us.
“She’ll hear you!” I blushed, twisting the knob so water would come out.
“Is that a bad thing?” Amy poked.
“A very bad thing!” I blushed.
“You’re so sensitive,” she giggled.
“You’d be too!” I hit the button that released soap as I fought her words.
“No, you’re just super sensitive,”
she shook her head.
“Chill, okay?” I sighed, running
my hands through my hair.
Most
women had long hair, it wasn’t something we had to do, it was just something we
liked. But for a few years I’ve wanted to cut my hair shorter, I’ve always worn
it so that it appears shorter. Although it doesn’t always work. I had slowly
started to loath my hair though, it was the chains that tied me to this
society.- I sighed and pushed it back, not interested in it anymore.
In
the back of my mind I remembered a fairy tale I was told as a little girl, some
princess with long hair. I think a witch was involved but I’m not sure, what I
really remember was the nursery helper that day was yelled at and sent away.
But I remember little pieces of the tale, something to do with a prince and
love. Which is why she got yelled at, all of the older women whisper about how
things used to be, it was looser and not as bad.
But
this is how it’s been ever since my first memory. It’s never been different
than this, always the same old strict warnings and fierce consequences. Suddenly
the whole shower room got quiet.
“What…?” Amy whispered, pulling
herself up to see over the top of the shower door.
I
followed her in that sense, watching what was happening.
The
police were in here with us, normally a violation since they’re said to be men,
yet none of us would know because they’re cover in a full body suit.
“Oh my god…” I whispered.
The
poor girl was screaming and kicking, apologizing over and over. It was all
happening so fast and none of us even knew what had happened in the first
place. Older women rarely got messed with, but this woman who I’m assuming was
around 50 to 60 years was being dragged out. A few women who were about her age
whispered about what happened.
Quickly
Amy and I rinsed off and wrapped ourselves in our towels. Carefully we stepped
out and walked over to them.
“What happened?” Amy asked once
it was quiet enough to hear them.
“She was singin’ a man’s song,” one
of them replied.
“What?” I looked at Amy,
confused.
“Girls, this society has been here
for years, at the beginning it was just a house with tape down a wall. At that
point it was voluntary, and for hundreds of years it was voluntary. Towards now
it got less and less voluntary, they were going to convert everywhere to
something like this,” she gestured towards everything. “And my friend was one
of the last ones to volunteer here, she hung on to anything she could. That
song she was singing was from a man from many, many, many years ago.—“
“So why would they care?” I
asked.
“You were born in here weren’t
you?” She smirked. “You don’t realize that they can hear everything you say,
they can see everything you do, they know what you’re thinking. Hold onto
anything of sanity.”
“Oh my god…” Amy whispered. “Um..
Thank you,” she grabbed my wrist and slipped out of the shower room.
“Calm down,” I put my hands on
her shoulders.
Amy
started laughing.
“That woman was nuts,” she shook
her head.
“You scared me there, Amy!” I
shoved her. “You made me think you were seriously scared!” I laughed.
“That was so fake, they can’t
hear us,” she smirked, pulling her hair back.
“What if they could though?” I
asked, feeling a little spooked.
“Well then hello to them,” she
joked.
Although
at this point we didn’t know that it wasn’t a joke.
