Outlaw

Jamie sat down at his desk and opened his journal. Sitting quietly for a few minutes, the only sound being the synchronized tapping of his slowly dulling pencil, he stared at the blank pages and pondered on his most recent idea and what the best words would be to convey it.

Silver. Heart shaped. Red ruby in the middle. Aside from the impending doom that the new world surrounds us in, this piece of jewelry is what caused Amelia Moore’s own personal demise. Who knew that a locket that her dad got for her would be so controversial? Many things are controversial now. At least, Amelia thinks so.

War was one of those things. Amelia has never understood war. She understands standing up for what you believe in. 'Fighting for what is right’ per say, but not actual physical fighting. She cannot fathom the concept of beating and slaughtering people into submission. Isn't there a better way to make changes? Amelia always wondered why adults can not just seem to have a civilized, intelligent, unbiased conversation. She can't fight. But she does know that what is about to happen is not right. Nevertheless, what is a fourteen year old girl expected to do about it?

Jamie sat back and thought of his story line. “I guess I should start off by explaining what all has happened.” he said aloud as he flipped to a new blank page. His handwriting was slanted and messy as he scrawled his ideas onto the canvas as fast as they came to him.

Remember the U.S. dollar? It has become so invaluable that the government has declared war. Not a war that is far away, where the consequences have little effect on your own personal daily life. No, this was a war on its citizens. To make up for the inadequate currency, the higher ups have decided that it's best course of action was to go around and confiscate all of the gold and silver that we may have hidden in the safety of our homes. After overstepping boundaries (as the government frequently does), the people were angered to the point of a rebellion. Amelia’s father fought and died in that protest. This locket, newly deemed "illegal to possess" is the only thing that she has left of him. And she’s not going to just let them have it.

“Good. Very good” said Jamie smugly, as he was quite proud of his work. He didn’t come up with many ideas often, but when he did, they were always guaranteed to be wonderful. He really did enjoy daydreaming and writing, as it was a great escape from his repetitious existence. As he tried stifling a yawn, he figured that he might as well try going back to bed. He took his journal and bent down to place it underneath his mattress, where he knows that it is safe and sound. He laid there for a while thinking of his new story, and what else he could add. He looked up at the pale moon and wished that it would bless him with more ideas in his dreams. Falling deeper and deeper into his slumber, his prayer got answered.

Jamie awoke the next morning as the sun started casting a beautiful red hue to the dim blue sky, and eagerly hopped out of bed trying to recall all the events that occured in his overactive subconscious the previous night. He greedily reached under his mattress and felt for his journal, anxious to jot down as much as he can while it’s fresh in his still-awakening brain.

After finishing her homework, Amelia laid in bed and looked up at the ceiling, recounting the events that occurred that day. Thinking about something stupid she said was usually involved in this ritual, and tonight was no different. "Why must I be this way?" she mutters out loud while turning over to try and get comfortable, thinking about a particular incident at school. "You'd think that I'd know better by now." she thought to herself, "14 years later and I still manage to say the wrong thing at what seems like the wrong time." While getting lost in thought and diving deep into the back of her psyche to examine herself and how she can stop saying dumb things, a nearby explosion snaps her back into reality.

An uneasy Amelia holds her breath and tries to drown out the heartbeat that is currently smashing around her head, attempting to hear any other strange noises of the night. She quietly slithers out of bed onto the carpeted floor, inching her way towards the window. Her whole body seems to shake uncontrollably with each minuscule movement. Amelia's trembling hand slowly makes its way to the curtain, trying to move it ever so discreetly as her unfocused eyes peer out of the corner of the window. It was difficult to see anything in the murkiness of the night, seeing as how there was no streetlight outside the bedroom.

After a few moments go by with no other explosions, she repositions herself with her back against the wall and allows herself to breathe again. Trying to use all of her brainpower to release her body from convulsion's grip, she cannot help but laugh at how crazy she thinks she is. Amelia climbs back into bed, trying to knock the paranoia out of her head and focus on getting a good night's sleep. She cannot believe that on top of saying ridiculous things, she now hears ridiculous things. While wondering how she is supposed to live a life as hard as hers, a loud crack erupts in what seems like her very own home.

Jamie put down his pencil and put his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and relished in the magnificent chapter he just wrote. It came to him so naturally, almost as if the same situation had happened to him as well. He was already thinking about his next chapter, contemplating on what could make it just as good as the last.

Little rays of blinding white light suddenly brightened the small, dark apartment as Amelia heard her mother shrieking from the couch. Running to her mothers aid through the darkness, she saw flashlights held by multiple men in bulletproof armor. They immediately start ransacking the place, obviously searching for something and not caring what they destroy in the process. Through the shock and commotion Amelia tries reaching her mom, as she is the only current safety in their once secure shelter. It seems as if saying dumb things is now the least of Amelia's problems.

The police left the house completely and utterly dismantled in their freshly announced first of many surprise shakedowns. They were hoping to stumble upon anything illegal, which to Amelia’s good fortune, they did not find.

That was a particularly hard night to get through, and knowing that she had school in the morning only made it that much worse. School. If you even want to call it that. Amelia chuckles to herself, thinking about how drastically school has changed. The students still start off by saying the Pledge of Allegiance, but this pledge is something much more sinister. They’re all basically taking an oath to be what the higher ups call a “perfect citizen”. To be a perfect citizen requires the following: pledging not to ask questions and pledging to give up their individualism. Ultimately, they are vowing to comply completely, no matter the circumstances. Nobody really knows what happens to those that don’t. They just know that they don’t want it to happen to them.

The curriculum has changed as well. Instead of learning about past mistakes (that are still ignorantly repeated to this day), numbers, and scientific theories; they are taught what the higher ups deem as worthy. It's just a bunch of manipulative mumbo jumbo, as Amelia calls it. They must wear the same identical uniform everyday, which is a horrific shade of wilted brown. Accompanied by the black loafers they're required to wear, and the rule of absolutely no accessorizing, Amelia cannot help but feel like a cog in the machine. She believes that the dress code is such a dumb rule. How are the higher ups going to try and control everything, including the clothes that she puts on her back? That's why she carries her heart shaped locket with her everywhere. It makes her feel rebellious. She says it's her little symbol of fighting for what she believes is right, and currently, that is 'sticking it to the man'. Tucked gently and safely in her sock, no one has ever suspected her to have something both valuable and illegal. That was until later that day, unbeknownst to Amelia Moore.

Jamie knew what it felt like to want to stick it to the man. Let’s just say that he felt as if his life had changed just as drastically as Miss. Amelia’s. That’s why he liked his main character so much, he related to her in more ways than one.

He decided to take a break after ending on the mysterious cliffhanger, so that he could enjoy the next hour before he had to go to work. Ugh, how he deeply despised his job. The worst part about it is how everybody there acts like they are having the most joyous time of their lives. He knows better than that, but he decides he must play along with everybody else, to ensure that he doesn’t get fired. He looked in his closet to pick his outfit for the day, realizing that he now hates the shade navy blue, which made him sad seeing as how once upon a time, blue used to be his favorite color.

He sat back at his table, the wheels turning inside his mind. He tried thinking of what could happen next, as to hopefully get started on the next chapter before he had to leave. He quickly scribbled down a few different ideas. “My goodness. Who knew that writing could be so difficult?” said the author, as he frantically ripped out and crumpled the last few pages. Frustration from the writer's block was really getting to him, as nothing was sounding perfect, and he couldn’t help but beat himself up about it. He put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes so tight that all he could see was little yellow stars sparkling in the blacks of his eyelids.

Before he knew it, Jamie let out a small yelp as he heard many loud simultaneous bangs and screams, his heart racing at the racket. Ignoring how his breathing was getting faster by the second, he hastily scrambled to pick up the crumpled papers and journal to shove back into his mattress.

Just as he was almost done stuffing all of his materials away, he froze up as a loud boom developed from his door getting kicked in. Multiple men in body armor and face shields rushed in and started tearing the place apart. One man stomped over to Jamie, who’s heart was pounding with each slap of the soldier’s boots. The man pushed him out of the way and flipped over his mattress- revealing all sorts of contraband: two journals, multiple squashed balls of crumpled paper, and many pencils that were the size of nubs. “Over here!” yelled the soldier to his comrades.

Suddenly, a wide-eyed Jamie was whisked out of his crouching position by two soldiers behind him, and dragged against his will down the hallway of his small apartment. He knew that the higher ups had banned writing, but he couldn’t help himself. It was his favorite hobby. In between his sobs, his voice kept cracking as he begged for somebody, anybody to help him.

Nobody really knows what happens to those that do not comply. They just know that they don’t want it to happen to them.