A complicated world were lies and gloom have filled it. They had swallowed the colors of anything beautiful. Flowers. All the roses have turned gray. Except one. One remains, and if this one goes away, the world will fade away as well.
Copyright © 2012. All Rights Reserved.
The Day Of The Red
I slick my bare feet on the cold ground. No shoes. It's not that weird here. Only selfish people wear shoes, at least in public.
I am followed by many others and yet following others. My older sister, Arella was on my left, adjusting her hair-clip. I could never be used to being this quiet.
Today was my first time to be in the "The Day Of The Red". I will never understand the tradition. Saying prayers to a rose. Asking the rose for mercy. The Day Of The Red is a ceremony, taken place twice a year.
I'm quite familiar since I can watch it anytime on politically-controlled channels.
Anyone who is capable of coming, must come to this ceremony, or it'll be a shame for the family, people from age 17 to further should come. I just turned 17. Otherwise I would be sitting at home, doing something more typical.
We say our prayers to a rose and then we go back.
My mom can't come. She couldn't since my dad left, she was too unstable. Nobody blamed her. My father left to find comfort, and I hated him for that.
I shouldn't hate. It makes the world worse, although I don't believe in it.
So why do we worship a rose? Many years ago, darkness and lies filled the world in a way that purity couldn't be found and in fact, it couldn't be tolerated. People who were pure, became victims. The flowers all turned gray. You could never find a colorful one. Only one remained. And it's the rose which has landed here.
Trusting was to be blamed.
On The Day Of The Red, many people from other cities join our revolution. But nobody was forced to it, except our town. As I already said I don't believe in this.
Rules are set. We must not lie. We must not hide. We must not hate. We must not disobey.
But even though' those rules are set, it doesn't mean that they're stopped. No, people haven't changed, in my opinion. They don't obey.
I scan the crowd ahead of me. I can see the brown hair of my best friend, Thyra. She seems as happy as me for the union.
Many people believe. Many don't. Most don't, but only a certain group actually show their dismay.
People stop and I know that we are there. A calm woman, whose voice could be easily heard as the crowd didn't talk, asked us to sit down. I still couldn't see her.
The pavement was clean. I sat. Through the contact of my ankles to the ground I shivered. It's fall, but it's still a little cold here. Some days are cold, some days are not.
People start murmuring their prayers. But me, I just sit here. I don't want to do something that I don't believe in. I check Arella from the corner of my eye. Her curly dark brown hair is filling her face. She wasn't saying prayers either. I stared hollowly forward.
I am not, fortunately, the only one who is not fond of the union. There are other people too, who instead of saying prayers just look around blankly.
They say we shouldn't make ourselves look beautiful. It would be a form of desire for attention. I didn't believe in that one either.
Arella was beautiful. She couldn't help it.
She was quiet too, and I could easily find out by the look in her eyes, that she wasn't saying the prayers in her mind too.
I get uncomfortable after a while. I want to rest my head on my curled up knees, but I should sit with respect. I want to lean my body on my hands. But that would be rude too.
Other teenagers, whom had their first time, were no better. Thyra, however, already managed to sit calmly next to her parents and her younger sister. I admired Thyra, for her calmness, and her abilities. She hardly ever got angry and when she did she wouldn't show it.
Anger was considered crime too, like lying. But people didn't ever protest since you cannot control anger. I embezzled my muscles to take a glance at the flower. It was a beautiful scene. A red one next to a crowd of gray flowers.
I promise myself, that day, in my first celebration of the Day Of The Red, that I will never beg a flower for mercy, it would be idiocy.