He wakes, as if startled, and bolts to the window. The young man, who is almost eighteen, feels exhausted, but holds his thin frame up. His face is quite average, with a long shape, defined cheekbones and jawbone, a slender nose, but his shocking light amber brown eyes make him an exception. His eyes are the lightest, the closest to a color in the city. The Draculoids, the regulators of Battery City, actually had him tested to make sure that there was not a malfunction in his genes. His eyes were not the usual black, like his mother’s, father’s, and everyone else’s. The only real color that he had ever seen was in his eyes. And even that, he had only seen once in a mirror when the Draculoids had given him the pills for the first time. Mirrors are so fascinating. How do they reflect things perfectly? What if …? Never mind, it’s too early. He shrugs, deciding that he shouldn’t be too curious. The teenager pushes his thick, black, sweeping hair out of his eyes, and walks out to his balcony. I should be called in for a haircut soon, my hair is way longer than regulation allows. He looks down at the pristine white city that lay beneath his terrace. The black posters celebrating the start of 2021 were in stark contrast from the white that was Battery City. Everything that he had ever known was white or for the special occasions, black. His bedroom, for instance, was only adorned only with the black pill container, which stood on his white table, which stood next to his white bed. I wonder what colors look like, he thought to himself. They must be beautiful. He imagined a place with more amber in it, like his eyes. However, he knew that only high level Draculoids and BL/ind. associates had access to the colors, citizens such as himself would never be allowed to see them. Colors had once brought pain to people before Better Living industries (BL/ind.), the operators of Battery City, had taken them away in December of 2012. BL/ind. had said that colors had the power to make people remember their darkest memories, tastes, sounds, and true feelings. Pain, Sorrow, Rage, Despair, Revenge, Envy, Regret and something called “Depression” were the feelings that BL/ind. had warned against. They told the citizens that these were the real reasons that war had taken over the world. Until the saviors, Better Living Industries, had come and made sure that everyone was BL/ind. about feelings. The boy’s mind wandered in thoughts of how it would be like to have actual feelings, until he thought back to his dream which had made him get up. Another dream? I should probably take another pill or two before bedtime. His dreams had been starting to come more frequently. When he had last gone for his monthly evaluation, the Draculoids had told him to take an additional pill if he needed to. They said he too many thoughts, ideas, something called “Imagination”, which they said could turn into a problem. However, before he took his pills, he decided to give himself a minute to recall his reverie. He was sitting before an audience of unfamiliar people, on a bench, with this grandeur object in front of him. It was black, with a weird shape, and this interesting portion jutting out at him. The part that was sticking out had these little divisions in it. His conscience told him that they were called keys. They were black and white, but there was something special about them, almost as though he was accustomed to sitting before them. When his dream self had tapped them, they made a sound. It was so peculiar, but at the same time, it was somewhat comforting. The crisp, clean, yet deep note brought him some kind of, what was it exactly? He thinks it was a feeling. He felt something stirring inside him, that had made him want to curl up and sleep. But, as his fingers performed their intricate dance down the keys, the sound that the keys produced became more evil, sinister even. As he felt his dream self bang on the last keys of this strange entity, a great noise emitted from the object. It was an unfathomable, dark, chord that rose all around him, and encased him in a coffin of confusion. It aroused a chill, a kind of fright even, that overcame him. One that had him sweating, siting straight up in his bed at five in the morning. But how could that happen? Fear had been eradicated by BL/ind. Maybe he was just imagining it. How would he know what Fear felt like? He had been eight before BL/ind. had taken over, but he didn’t remember any of it. And, anyways, citizens were not allowed to wake before seven. Should he report this? He decided that it would be best to just take another few pills. The pills were designed by BL/ind., and every citizen had to take two a day, one in the morning, and one at night. The young adult, of course, was an exception. His brain was “over-reactive”, according to a Draculoid. The boy assumed that meant he thought too much. He shook out two pills from his container. He thought about what exactly their function was. Maybe they…” He paused his thoughts to recall what the Draculoids had told him about his “imagination”. Thinking too much again? He chuckled to himself, and a rare grin lit up his face. He puts the pills in his mouth, and tries to hold onto the slight feeling that the sound in his dream had brought him, but even as he swallows, it’s gone. He shivers for a second, and then looks around his room. Why am I up so early? What is going on? The young man returns to his bed and attempts to let sleep take over his brain, while his eyes try to clear the cloudiness covering them.

Notes

Please tell me if you like it! (this is my first work ever, btw.) thanks to Ms.Fleming and My Chemical Romance! Comment, Rate, and Subscribe!