03, that is what is tattooed onto my arm. There forever, no possible way to get it off. I'm a slave to the city that I'm in, everything there and everyone is almost like a robot. Going around our daily lives, with no excitement apart from the yearly Wishing Festival, where we make a wish. I have always been different, a delinquent, my hair is not raven black like the others. It is a dark ash blonde, sort of brownish, yeah that's it. Light brown. Long and flowing, past my hips. The only reason it is long is because I ran away. 03 is what I'm known as, I ignore it though. It is a sign of my branding of the city. They brand everyone. I was the third child to ever have the branding done. I ran. I couldn't help it, I didn't want to be part of this society, but of course they found me. I was 8 at the time. They locked me in a cell and called me dangerous. I wouldn't eat or drink anything they offered, eventually I was force fed. Mouth held open, forced to swallow. When I was 8 they sat me down and tried to cut my precious locks as a sign that no one can run. No one can hide. That they are supreme, higher, mightier than a young girl could ever be. I grabbed the scissors and threw them. Hitting the assistant in her arm. She forced the bloody scissors out and threw them on the ground. The scissors clattering on the blue and green speckled floor, now stained with her blood. She wiped the blood off of her cheek and pushed her glasses further up her nose. Breathing heavily. She forced me down to the ground. Her horrible breath smelling of disinfectant, invaded my assistant eventually growing tired at my rebellious nature and tied me to a chair. I struggled as she forced me into the chair. She tied the rope so tight it was starting to chaff my wrists. Then she got her walker-talkie out and called security. She also ripped the bottom of my dress to make a bandage for herself. Not caring about my decency. Making it shorter than it already was. I was again declared dangerous and locked in a mental asylum. I was small and lean, but I could put up a fight to be reckoned with. The mental asylum was white with padding everywhere. I couldn't even kill myself, I guess that was the point. Tortured almost. They wanted to programme me like the other robots that went around their lives without knowing that their own government were traitors. Though I guess that's the thing. Society feeds off of us being normal and looking up to those in higher power. We are supposed to not have a problem with that? I want to make everything equal. I was in there for 2 years, growing thinner as they went by. The scars healing and closing over. They let me out eventually putting me in a correctional facility. When it was recess I climbed the fence. I took no one with me. No one. They couldn't come. Where I was going, no one should follow. Then. I ran again. This time no one catching me. My ripped, small gown, a trinket from the mental asylum barely reaching my knees flew behind me as my bare feet touched the soil. The sound of the birds tweeting was mellifluous. Eventually I heard the pitter, patter of a few gentle, rain drops. Eventually evolving into a storm. But I didn't mind, I loved it, resting in a tree as the rain fell around me. The bark dug into my skin, leaving fresh scars, but I didn't mind. When the rain came to a halt, I went on the soft soil again and looked everywhere trying to find a shelter. Somewhere to rest my foot and lay down.
Somewhere deep In the forest, a gentle woman in her late 60s was stirring her pot of pumpkin soup, the pumpkins freshly grown in her beautiful garden. The garden included courgette, eggplant, tomatoes. Also beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers such as sweet peas, dahlia and the rose. In the middle of the garden, there was one single rose, growing higher the the others, surrounded by different species of roses and tulips. The woman wore a deep purple apron and chopsticks through her onyx hair, highlighted with streaks of grey, as a sign of ageing. When her pot was bubbling steadily she sat down and began sewing a skirt for one of her customers. The skirt had flowery embroidery stitched across the hem and a rose in the bottom right corner. She believed in the olden way of doing things. Even though it was 2143. But people appreciated her hand stitched work. Her grandmother had taught her sew and hers had taught her, it was like a family tradition and she believed in carrying on the legacy.
03 stumbled through the forest and gradually grew more tired and dirtier. Soon she saw an a block of houses. The light shone off of them and the street lights lit the path to the houses in the dark of night. 03 decided to turn away as there were cameras everywhere. The technology of today allowed the cameras to directly identify any criminals or runaways. 03 continued deeper into the wood. Eventually hearing the sound of a water fall, dragonflies danced over the waters that reflected the stars. Then I looked down and realised how dirty I was. So I stripped out of my gown and dipped my toes into the water, then I got fully in. I washed my hair, revelling in the feeling of being clean for once. Then I put my gown on. I turned around to see a woman with midnight black hair, with streaks of grey wearing a deep purple apron. Wisps falling on a slim face. She was panting slightly, wearing the apron over a jumper and a pinafore. My first instinct was to run, then she yelled, " WAIT! Do you want to come in and have a proper bath and maybe some food?" I turned around and looked at her, then I nodded with gratitude. Hoping she wasn't being mean. Or lying. She brought me into her house. It was extremely old fashioned, looking like the house from Pride and Prejudice. An extremely old classic movie, over one hundred years old! I sat down at a mahogany table with a beige cloth going down the middle of the table with salt and pepper sitting with pride on the beige cloth. Taunting the other spices like Paprika and Basil to a showdown. A bowl of fruit sat, probably freshly grown from her garden. My ash hair fell in my face as I looked down. Eventually a mug of steaming hot chocolate was placed in front of me, I reluctantly reached my hand out and latched my hand on the handle. I gently blew the hot liquid and sipped. I looked up at the kindly old woman who had offered me passage into her home. Then she said, " I have a bed in the back that you can have, the bathroom is on the third door on the right. What brings you here?" I stayed silent, not wanting to share my story with an acquaintance. She smiled at me and said, " it's fine, if you want to keep silent about it. I don't mind, but you do look pretty roughed up, is there anything more I can do for you?" Silence. But I responded with a respectable shake of the head and headed down the hall way. I found the bath and turned it to warm. Whilst the bath water was running the room grew warm and filled with steam. I felt relaxed for once in my life and settled myself into the bath.
Afterwards I dried my ash, long hair and tied it up into a plait. Feeling relaxed, I settled into the spare bed that I had been promised. It was warm and safe, the wind beat against the windows. But I was calm, I was in a state of serene calmness. Nothing could hurt me. I was in a t shirt she had given me and her pyjama bottoms. Calm, happy and silent. Eventually giving in to the pull of sleep, exhausted.
The next day came quickly, I woke up and looked at the note on the bedside table. It said
Out for a bit, to get new materials and garden seeds. I hope you can manage by yourself - Eden
I went for an exploration around her house. I found a little ,cobble path way and at the end was a green house. Full of exotic and rare flowers. Including the: Persian Cornflower, the famous Disneyland Rose, Puya Alpestris and the Black Dragon Rose. So many interesting and beautiful things to find in a garden. The ground was pink field moss and cherry blossom trees and ceanothus trees decorated the landscape. I heard a rushing nose, like water. I turned and came face to face with a small waterfall, lily pads swarmed the lake which the water fell into. No wildlife. It was silent, almost scary, apart from the waterfall.
I sat down in the garden, I heard gentle footsteps come up behind me. They were too heavy to be Eden's. I stayed still scared of moving, the man or woman was coming at an alarming pace. So, I rolled under a patch of bushes and stayed there. The man was dragging a steel machete across the ground, I steadied my breathing, scared of doing anything else. His feet stopped by the bushes and stayed there, I looked at his army boots, terrified. They were bloodied, covered in dirt. I stayed and didn't move. Then I saw his black army trousers bend over. His knees were bending slowly, I was holding in a scream. Not wanting him to know I was there. But he knew. I guess the best way to get rid of a problem is to kill it.