By Leela Bear
The marching band is playing today. I like them. They remind me of my father, but I cannot remember ever seeing one with him.
The streets are crowded with people craning to see the parade coming by, lifting their young children so that they don’t miss out.
This festival commemorates the end of the war: the war that nearly wiped out the world’s human population. We have to attend it, no matter what.
My brother refused to come last year; he refused to follow this government, no matter the cost.
I miss him.
I know he is dead. That’s the price.
Great piece.
The world needs more dystopian 101 stories. Really enjoyed it.
Excellent ending, loved it!