(blank, for now)

This is just the prologue or start to a story that I'm writing about a futuristic setting where a boy is different among his utopian soceity. It's just a couple of paragraphs right now, but more coming soon!

    It flickered for a moment; that light blue that was being spoken. Suddenly, everything else had colour too.

“Don’t you see it?” Nicolas was perched on top of the wooden fence hugging his knees and rubbing his eyes.

“See what?” The girl in front of him stared at him slowly with a questioning voice.

“The colours…red, orange, blue…”

“Come on, Nicolas. You know colours are only a myth, a story. I think we should head back, then…maybe call your mother.” Her eyes were now emerald green, he realized.  He had questioned himself, before he asked her, too. He had just wanted her to, expected her to believe him too.

“Yeah, I guess I’m slightly tired from last night…that lesson on etiquette was a bore.” He popped off and shrugged the idea off; it was probably nothing, and he needed to take his pills anyways. The two stepped onto the gravel sidewalk, dust emerging into the air behind them as the tiny stones crunched under their feet.

“I had forgotten, mother. Please, don’t get angry with me.” His eyes pleaded and he searched her face for colour, or expression, but it was gone. His mother, an older woman chuckled back at him.


     “Why are you laughing? Mother, I mean it! You never take anything seriously!” The fear and anger raged inside of him. Nicolas kicked at the chair for effect, but he missed and landed on the blue and white tile floor, making his mother burst into tears of laughter, which was the opposite effect he was going for. As he sulked, he turned away from his mother. She leant into him, stroking his arms slowly, delicately, as a mother always does to her young.

“I never wanted you anyways.” 

Her ears perked, and she stared intently at him.

“I even know your name, Rosaline.” He smirked at her slowly, pushing his shoulder into her arm. “You can’t take care of me now, mother. You’re a disgrace to father and I; you can only provide us with one child?! Is that how you expect our family legacy to continue?! With me?!” He slapped her then, and she jolted backwards onto the floor, slowly recovering, her voice quivered.

“I can’t hurt you, you know I can’t. Not my son…” She couldn’t feel the cold tiles underneath her legs anymore; everything was numb, and she was drifting in an out of consciousness, the light flickering in her head. He was crazy, he had gone absolutely mental without those pills that he had needed.

“No one to protect you now, Rosie,” Nicolas had his hands clenched, but his mind was elsewhere. Stop it, Nick. You know she’s your mother…get to the table, and just get those pills…yes, just a little bit farther.


     He let out a shuddering gasp and fell onto the floor, his body shaking while his mother turned shakily towards him.

“I don’t want to be so different, mom, but my Mind tells me I have to be. Why is everyone so similar?” His greyish hair was almost black, rather than the brunette shade everyone else had; his eyes were deep blue, and he had been the latest to experience the Emotions.

“Shh, dear. We’ll just report you to the Chief, and everything will be alright.” Rosaline spoke with a calmer voice now, attempting to calm herself and him, but she was morose, knowing that her son was Altered, and that she might have to harm him in order to let the Community heal.

The End

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