PROLOUGE
Green grass, golden trees, sunset. All the images of fall haunting me, for I know I may never be able to enjoy them again. As depressing as it sounds, it's simply the ultimate truth. Since the discovery, or rather the losing there of, new laws were set in stone. For one, no one was to leave their home unless mandatory, and even then you had to have a pass.
Each family was given a certain number of leaves per month, and only a precious few at that. We left to get shots and tests run, and we left for food, but never for any other reason. The passes were far to scarce to go out for enjoyment, even if any movie theaters, skating rinks, or bowling alleys were still open. You got what you needed and nothing else. All other things were a waste.
The power was cut off, granting only military facilities the right to electricty. They didn't want any of the families to communicate, and since the loss of the stone was so detremental, even less so now. The only time you talked to neighbors or friends was when you just so happened to leave for food at the same time, but that was so rare, it felt as though no one existed outside of the home that now imprsioned you.
Nothing and no one that is, except the guards patroling the empty streets, the empty asiles in the store, or the doors at medical testing. If the world weren't in this same position as Blackwell Texas, and had someone to stumble upon us, they'd probably think that some horrific disease had wiped out the population. Wiped out everyone that is, except the lone survivers on the street. Much to our regret, thats not what happened.
No, the towns assigned partol is what parents used in place of the boogie man and hoot nanny to scare their children into sleep. Instead, they were the people that haunt childrens dreams and turn every parents moments of conscienceness into dread filled hours of pure panic. If you leave your place of confinement and stumble upon one, you hide your childs face and scurry away as quickly as possible, hoping you went unnoticed.
This is all I remember of the last year. Confinment and fear. Nothing sweet, but rather completely bitter. Praying for less bitter as my mother calls me into the family room, but knowing its not true. Family meeting are always just more bad news. Maybe, someday, this won't be the case. For now however, we just try to survive.