Carved from Darkness

Days of the Underground

SYNOPSIS: In a dystopian age where only pure children thrive, a thirteen-year-old teenager learns to accept her death.

There's really not much of a moral to this story, actually. Children wouldn't be good at ruling the world? *shrug*

~#~

The King was young, very young, though he did not spare a soul on the Days of the Underground. People did not want to attend, but they attended anyway, not against their will but for the news, the gossip. Today, I was thirteen, and I would be murdered in front of any who dared watch.

Out of cowardice, I had woken up at the break of dawn and hid, most of the time under the bed, though I did try behind the lamp as well. The unfortunate being who I shared the room with, a small nine-year-old boy, resorted to locking himself in the restroom until I stopped weeping within myself.

The system of the world consisted of several levels, or Tiers. These Tiers had not been formally established, in fact, established by the citizens themselves, but no one spoke of the system unless it was being overused for boasting.

There were rules, however, grounding rules that everyone must live by. Stay to the right on the streets. Don't drive cars unless authorized to do so.

No one lives to be older than thirteen.

Underneath the bed, I discovered a few things: that death was inevitable, and the pocketknife I had lost a few weeks ago. Being cowardly would not help my situation, for guards would end up raiding the room for my presence. Though, I wasn't very certain that I would be found, for the guards were only twelve.

"Sasha," my roommate, Micah, said, bending down to meet my eyes. He was already dressed, whereas I had stayed in my sleepwear. "We have to leave. Come on."

"We don't have to." I retreated from the dust anyhow. Micah stepped back, staring at me with what seemed like sorrow in his brown eyes and fallen expression.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly, with his head bent down. I frowned, bit my lip, and stuttered a response. "W-Well, death is inevitable, r-right?"

"What does that mean?" He raised his head.

I shook mine, biting my lip even harder. "Let's just go, Micah."

-----

As soon as we stepped outside of our apartment, everything before us occurred in orderly chaos. Battery-powered androids wheeled down the large hallway, delivering newspapers, advertising new technology, asking if anyone had time to complete surveys. These androids were the last trace of adults. Children ruled the earth.

One android rolled up to me. It had the gold mark of the Youth Congress stamped on its forehead, and its surface gleamed, as if it had been polished just seconds before. It stuck out an arm towards me and pressed a sticker onto the chest of my shirt.

"King Samuel would like to see you at his castle in an hour, miss," it said in its warped, robotic voice. I saluted as all others did, sending the android off to annoy someone else.

"At least you'll get to see the King," Micah said, walking beside me as we exited the building.

My foot met the moving metal-plated streets and I set myself to march with the rest of them: Right, left, right, left. I stared ahead, not seeing anything, only experiencing the relentless fear pounding through my veins.

"Everyone sees the King, Micah," I said out of the corner of my mouth to the boy marching beside me. Talking on the streets was also prohibited.

Finally, we reached the castle. It towered above us on a small grassy hill in all its green and black glory, and we stepped off the moving platform, stopping for a moment to take it all in. The castle was essentially a large colored cube with the best security systems of all. King Samuel lived there, along with his many servants and guards.

"This is it," Micah said. "I'll never see you again."

"Right." I wanted to say more, to express my apologies and regrets and fears, but my throat closed up and disabled me to speak any further.

Micah threw his arms around me, and although he only reached my elbow height-wise, it was the most emotion I had ever felt in my mundane life. I returned the hug, swallowing, attempting in every way to hold back the tears.

"No loitering on my lawn, young ones," said a voice from behind me. I turned and met the eyes of King Samuel, but I was too offended to kneel, a royal gesture to the ruler of the world. He wore a gleaming black crown on his head that contrasted against his bright blond hair.

"Who are you calling young?" I asked. "I'm the same age as you!"

"No talking back to the King, either." He crossed his arms and looked at me, smirking.

"That's not a label you can just toss around, idio—" I stopped myself, lowering my head when I realized what I had done. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

A beep sounded from behind me. Micah cursed, and I cursed myself for saying those favorable words out loud.

"I'm late for archery," he said. "Madam Winter will kill me."

"Leave, insignificant four-year-old," King Samuel said with a wave of his hand. Micah scowled, trudging off and joining others on the street platform.

"You forgot to kneel before me," the King said smugly. I felt the sudden urge to punch him in the face, though I held it back.

"It's not a rule." I shoved my fists into the pockets of my jeans. "You can't make me do it."

Again, I was stalling. Stalling for time. My time.

"Ah, whatever." He squinted at the sticker on my shirt. "Follow me, Number 394."

"I have a name, you know!" I followed him up the hill, however, because I knew there would be severe consequences if I didn't. No one said there would be. But I still knew.

"Don't care."

King Samuel stepped up to his front doors, an arch of black crystal adorning the edges. With a flourish, he grabbed my wrist while simultaneously knocking a single knock on the door. It rang hollow, and suddenly, swirls curled from the arch and black smoke rose from the tips.

"Welcome, King Samuel." An android's voice rang through the clearing. "Please send unauthorized stranger elsewhere."

The smoke lashed out towards me, sending a burning, searing pain course through my arm.

"No!" The King yelled, tightening his grip on my wrist. "Do not harm this mortal!"

"Mortal?" I narrowed my eyes, mainly against the pain but also out of spite.

"Third-class citizen, whatever."

At once, the doors swung inwards, steam rolling from inside. At once, a couple of servants rushed forward with plates of cheese and fruit. And at once, I was swept away into the rough yet small hands of a guard.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Mortal," the guard behind me snapped, his thin, bony fingers gripping my arms. "Mortals do not speak."

He shielded my eyes and dragged me inside the castle as I struggled, kicking my feet, waving my arms, screaming. In a small beam of light, between the guard's fingers, I spotted King Samuel, stuffing his face with food and smiling evilly in my direction.

"You're in the lowest class," the King said, his voice muffled. "Therefore, you deserve to die."

"That's not a rule, is it?" My voice was hoarse and slowly disappearing.

"No, it's not. Rules are for adults."

I stayed silent the rest of the way to the dungeons, to the death chamber, and finally, with a rope tied loosely around my neck.

No one stood by me, no voice, no cry rang out throughout the circular enclosure as I breathed my last breaths, a single tear tracing my cheek.

"If there aren't any rules, then what's the point of all this?"