The attic was quiet. The only sound was the velvety inhaling and exhaling of dust that was illuminated by the soft, morning sunlight. The muffled carroty-yellow light entered through a polluted triangular window and fell elegantly onto the dusty desk and a boy who had gotten no sleep the night before. The light then faded into the never-ending darkness that engulfed the rest of the small loft. The boy's face was turned a pale caramel by the luminosity as his fatigued blue eyes stared into the warm pigments that adorned the sky. His wire frame glasses contained a small reflection of the spectacle. The dust that surrounded him danced in the stifling air and bounced off his body that was ever so still. The attic windowpane overlooked the rest of the metropolis and shadowed the soaring buildings in the horizon. The city was relatively desolate this early in the daytime, but it would become very eventful as the day progresses. This was especially because today was Choosing Day in Quitsoux. Choosing Day was when Riders were chosen out of hundreds of children and have their animal picked for them. The choices of animals were either a gargantuan serpent or hornet. Your blood type and birth date decides what animal you are given. Then with your animal you would fight to the death with the other contestants on live television in the nearby forest. The competition occurred on the fiftieth day every fifty years. Today was the forty-ninth day and Alfred was beginning to regret being put in the running to be chosen as a Rider. He had come to the attic at four in the morning because his thoughts kept him conscious and because this was the most peaceful area of the house. It was probably the most tranquil place in the whole city.
Alfred's covetousness was now strong for the past; but how could someone have nostalgia for a time that they have never lived in? Alfred did not know. However, he did not act like this was the case. He had his parents buy every new gadget that came out like everyone else did, praised the government like everyone else did, and even exclaimed 'I'm the hero!' when trouble brewed. But calling out that phrase did not help this situation. He let his head droop and slowly decent to the desk; his arms lie limp on his knees. As he gaped at the wooden floorboards, he examined the grain of the wood. Swirling and colliding into each other, the shadowy currents flowed ever so sophisticatedly in the brown waters. Alfred then raised his head to look back out the window. The pigments of yellow, tangerine, and pastel crimson had begun to fade into the colour of tears. He just wanted to soar like an eagle into the dimming tincture and be touched by the tender warmth that emanated from the beautiful star that the Earth revolved around. People just take the sun for granted nowadays, Alfred contemplated, No one notices the beauty of a sunrise or sunset; to them it just goes up and down. All they fucking give a shit about are their smart phones being too slow and if their clothes are fashionable! He slammed his right hand the desk and soaked up the agony that it caused like a sponge. Boiling streams emitted from his pristine cerulean eyes and had fallen hopelessly onto the desk and the floor. He then stood up, pushed in his chair, and exited the loft by going down the ladder.
Once in the upstairs corridor, Alfred let the folding ladder fold back up and let the door to the attic close. The hallway was overcome by shadows and cracks of morning light. The sound of sleep escaping from the nearby bedroom was the only sign of life in the whole house. Alfred's bare feet had taken in the cool flooring underneath him and made the flooring creak ominously as he made his way to the stairs. As he went down the stairs, the television wall had turned on by itself. The television could sense a person's presence due to the hidden camera it had. The television wall was required by law to be in every household. Many speculated that the TV watched you as you watched it. This was due to when you were not doing something you were supposed to, the newscaster or cartoon would point you out and tell you to do what you should be doing. The channel the TV turned to was the morning news; the subject the newscaster was conversing about was the Game of Death. The Game of Death was the name of the competition that came the day after Choosing Day. The lady on the big television screen commented on how excited everyone was for Choosing Day and that many people anticipate to be chosen as a Rider. She also said that the time for the Choosing Day ceremony was at ten o'clock. Alfred attempted to be rapturous about the whole thing but for some reason he just could not be. He grabbed the remote off the arm of the sofa and turned the television off. Alfred then sauntered into the kitchen, snatched two pieces of bread, and put the slices into the toaster. While standing over the toaster, he thought about the Choosing Day ceremony. The Choosing Day ceremony was simple; fifty adolescents are picked at random to become Riders at the town square and are then taken to the recreational center to have their animal chosen. Every person would cheer if you were picked, but the children that were selected were usually scared out of their minds. Alfred did not know about the cheering or the recreational center, but boy was he terrified. As he grabbed a paper plate the toast popped out of the toaster. Alfred then ate the toast quietly in the dark kitchen while leaning on the counter. He glanced at the analog clock on the wall farthest from him above the dining table; the time was eight o'clock. My dads will be up soon to get me ready, Alfred thought. Once he finished his toast he went back upstairs to his room to get dressed.
In his room, Alfred undressed and had taken a shower in the bathroom in the connected bathroom. Once out of the steamy shower, he had dressed himself in green corduroy trousers and a pale periwinkle button-down shirt. He then went back into the lavatory to brush his teeth and comb his hair. Alfred had to wipe away the condensation that had built up on the large mirror before brushing his teeth. A blurry reflection of an exhausted boy with wet, dishevelled hair looked back at him portentously. Alfred stared into his baggy, bloodshot eyes like one would gawk at a labyrinth. His cowlick bounced around as his teeth were brushed. He then turned to his left when he overheard his two fathers waking up in the other room.
"Alfred?" one said hoarsely, "Are you up?"
Alfred's voice was muffled due to the toothbrush and toothpaste currently occupying his mouth, "Yeah," he spit the toothpaste in the sink, "I'm up."
"Today's a big day you know; I hope you're dressed nicely. You are going to be on TV."
Alfred finished brushing his teeth and wiped his mouth on the nearby towel, "Yeah, I know. I'm already dressed."
His other father intervened, "Really?"
"I might as well be."
"That's our boy, proud to be a part of a patriotic event!"
I just wanna get this over with, dumbass, Alfred thought as he combed his hair. "Where's Matthew?"
His father entered his room, "He's just getting up. Nice outfit, son"
"Thanks, dad." Shut the hell up, you brainwashed piece of shit.
His other father stood in Alfred's doorway, "I'm gonna check on Matthew, ok?" He then exited the room. "Oh my God, Alfred, John get in here quick!" Alfred and John quickly walked to the area where Alfred's other father was; it happened to be in the doorway of Matthew's room. Their jaws dropped at the scene. Lying dead on the floor was Matthew, who slit his throat; a large pool of blood was expanding over the hardwood flooring. Alfred's other father began to cry and so did John. Alfred was just surprised he had the gumption to do the unfortunate deed. "Why w-would he do this?" Alfred's other father sobbed.
"I-I don't know, Paul. I don't know," John replied sullenly.
Alfred began to tear up, Dammit Matthew, why didn't you tell me you were gonna do this!
Paul turned to face Alfred, "Alfred, I'm so sorry."
Alfred wiped the tears that accumulated in his eyes and replied, "You two stay home and call 9-1-1. I'll walk to the square by myself." He then rotated on his heels and began to head down the stairs.
"Alfred, wait!" Alfred stopped in his tracks, "Why are you doing this when your brother is dead?!"
Alfred sighed melodramatically, "Life goes on, dad. Plus, I'm required to be in the town square like everyone else. I'm might as well be there early."
Paul took in a quivering breath, "A-Alright son, good luck today."
Alfred began to walk down the stairs, "Yeah, thanks." He was then out of sight and the sound of footsteps dissipated.
John was befuddled, "Alfred's acting weird today."
Paul agreed, "Yeah, he is."
Once downstairs, Alfred put on his navy blue trench coat and headed outside. The cold, late fall air brushed his face with some intensity as he shut the door behind him. His coat flapped in the wind as he made the ten block journey to the town square. The reason he had to make the long hike was because the family car was in the shop being fixed. Alfred stuck his hands into his pockets and began to walk in long strides in the middle of the road; he hated using sidewalks.
After a half an hour of walking, he finally made it to the square where a crowd of people were already forming. He stood in the back of the crowd so the television cameras did not see him. The town square was a wide, cobble stone area with various stores surrounding it. Even though it was called a town 'square', it was more circular. The cobble stones below Alfred's feet formed a symbol of a bald eagle. In front of the crowd was a stage where the fifty chosen Riders would stand when picked out of a computer generated system. Gradually the whole square filled up with more and more people. Alfred was surprised by how many people had to show up to this; it looked like half the city was there. Then suddenly, the Choosing Day ceremony began with the playing of the national anthem.
The President of the country then came on the stage after the playing of the anthem. Everyone cheered but Alfred; he just wanted this to end so he could go home. The President then made this long speech about how patriotic this event was and how it symbolizes how freedom is not free. The crowd applauded the well written speech while Alfred just folded his arms. Then the choosing of Rider began; a boy's name was first called. Everyone cheered, whistled, and celebrated. The boy looked proud on the monitors that surrounded the square that showed him walking up on the stage. Alfred clapped sardonically with everyone else. Forty-eight names called later, Alfred was in high spirits that this ceremony was coming to a close. The computer searched through a list of names on its database just like it did for the other forty-nine adolescents. This time, however, it had taken longer than usual. Many people started to whisper and fidget due to impatience. Then the name popped up on the large computer screen on the stage; Alfred was petrified. The President said the name aloud, "Alfred F. Jones." Alfred froze as all the cameras pointed at him, as all the people cheered, and all the monitors showed his face. "Well come on, boy," the President said kindly, "I don't bite." A person nudged Alfred's shoulder while clapping and nodded his head towards the stage. Alfred nodded in reply and began to stiffly walk to the stage. The whole crowd opened up to let him through in dead silence. He then sauntered up the small stairs to the stage and clumsily shook the hand of the President. The President then let go of his hand and Alfred went to stand with the other Riders; the mass of people then celebrated by throwing confetti and clapping. All of the chosen Riders were then escorted behind the stage through a small door and onto buses to be sent to the recreational center.
Once at the recreational center, the Riders exited the buses and went inside. They were then lead to the huge gymnasium which contained two people sitting at small desks on either side. The people had white uniforms and wore grey helmets; the Riders were then told to form lines at either desk. Alfred went to the line on the right and was dead last. While waiting impatiently, Alfred noticed to his right were windows. Outside the windows were cages that contained serpents the size of skyscrapers and hornets the size of horses. Whoa, Alfred thought, I have to ride one of those things? After waiting in line for forty-five minutes, it was finally Alfred's turn.
"Hand please," the lady said while holding an uncanny, pen-like device.
"Um, okay." Replied Alfred as he extended his right arm.
"Birth date?" the woman asked crossly as she took a sample of blood from Alfred's wrist.
"July fourth, two thousand eight."
"Ooh," she replied more kindly, "you're only sixteen, wow. It must be an honour to be a Rider at such a young age."
He retracted his arm when she completed the blood drawing, "Yeah."
"Your animal is a hornet. Good luck, sweetie."
Fuck, I wanted a serpent! "Thanks"
"No problem."
The Riders were then taken outside to the back of the building to see their animal. Each animal had a serial number that was on a paper given to him by an assistant. Alfred's serial number was 00007562; each cage had the number printed on one of the bars. He then found the cage with his serial number. The hornet was staring at him with its metallic cobalt eyes. The giant insect was a light goldenrod colour and had black stripes on its rear; the stinger was hooked and had a small blue orb attached to it. Alfred knew that was where the lethal venom was located. The toxin melted skin and bone and only left the skull remaining; the serpent had the same toxin in its fangs. The hornet's beige wings flapped momentarily which made a short buzzing sound. The insect fidgeted with its six black legs and pinched its black pinchers together and the door to the cage opened. Alfred had taken a step back as the hornet exited its cage. "Um, hello." Alfred greeted.
"It's so nice to finally meet you," the hornet replied in his head. Alfred jumped at the insects words.
"Y-You can talk?!"
"Only to you my dear."
"Do you have a name?"
The hornet nodded, "Yes, my name is Cattail."
Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Cattail? Like the extinct plant?"
"Yes. May I ask for your name?"
"Um, Alfred."
"Handsome name for a handsome boy."
"Thanks." There was a long pause, "So what do we do now?"
"Now we get you ready for the fight of your life."