The World's End | ONC 2024

ੈ✩‧₊˚ |𝟬𝟯| 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗠𝘂𝘀𝗸𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗿𝘀

Keira

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The labyrinthine streets of Veridonia became second nature to me. I lived here for far too long to forget the way of the streets and the roads. When there's no one else to take care of you, you choose the only thing you can do to survive.

The Verids killed my parents three years ago because my brother was one of those mad lunatics who proclaimed nonsense on television about changing the world.

My brother's mistake cost my parents their lives.

And mine.

The Dominion Council punished the parents of such children, but they didn't seem to realize that there might be other children who needed their parents alive.

Three years. It's been three years since I'd been left to fend for myself.

It was another such morning. It was actually the Fair Day where every employee got raises, so there would be more people buying stuff at the markets.

More time and more people means more opportunities for me to slip away.

I navigated through the familiar streets, my stomach grumbling. It started last night but there was no chance of getting any food after five p.m. around here. It was a constant reminder of the harsh reality of Veridonia. With each day, we live to survive.

Sometimes, it feels like such a life is unworthy of living.

I slowly took each step, scanning the alleys and corners for any leftovers - a discarded loaf of bread, a piece of fruit left forgotten on a windowsill.

Dang it, there was nothing today.

I had to resort to it after all.

I moved along the alleys, my senses attuned to the slightest rustle or movement. When you've been scavenging for as long as I have, there is some stealth that you develop, whether you want to or not.

In Veridonia, food is precious. Yet, there would be many upper-class survivors that didn't give a shit about it. They would just chuck whatever they wanted if they didn't want it. I'm a resourceful young woman. Making do with whatever I could find is a specialty.

I rounded a corner, my heart leaping with excitement at the sight of a small market stall, its owner busy attending to the many customers. The market was surrounded by people, especially newly approved adults whose parents sent them on weekly errands now that they were allowed to be outside. These new adults didn't complain about it since they were confined to their homes for so long. They were seemingly excited about it.

Seizing the opportunity, I approached cautiously, my eyes darting around for any sort of surveillance. Some of these market owners would install some guards or safety features so that we don't get their stuff.

All clear.

I practiced this for so long, that it was easy. I reached out from behind and snatched a handful of oranges from the basket, tucking them into the folds of my tattered jacket before slipping away into the crowd. It was a small victory, and I had to make a visit to other shops, but in a city where every bit of food was a luxury, it was enough to stave off some hunger for another day.

There was also a secret to this. You never visit one market stall more than once for a few weeks. If the store owner had figured out that you were making regular visits to their stall, they'd approach the Verids and that's something we'd want to avoid.