DYSTOPIAN CONTEST! - Less Chaos

Prologue

Outside the window, multiple gunshots are fired. People cry, scream, beg in the streets as the world goes up in flames around them. Cars go flying above heads like planes. Planes ricochet out of the sky and crash to the ground like cars. Everything is chaos to the max and no one can escape from it. I, like everyone else in this world can’t hide from it. In today’s world, death is inevitable.

I live in a house consisting my momma, and three little siblings. I am the oldest son and the only son in this family.

Before havoc struck, around four months ago, our family consisted a father. A father who died in the beginning of all this. He was the only one who somehow predicted this of happening and yet died by the name of John D. Kinin, ruler of the madness of today’s everyday lives. Or to be more accurate, today’s every death.

I think of the last thing, my father said to me, minutes before being part of an out-of-the-mill car accident on route 130.

“Son?” he said. “Being a leader means being responsible for all of it’s followers. Obviously that isn’t today’s definition of leadership, so do me a favor, promise me you’ll never become a leader. Don’t follow either. The middle is always best.”

I didn’t even know where he was going that day either. He just wished me a good day at school and drove off, leaving us alone in the world. That day, followed by countless others were the worst of days. Now it’s even worse.

News travels fast after the police and investigators reveal the terrible death of my father to us that fateful night. Neighbors suddenly come flocking to us like cockroaches to food in decades while we numbly accept their offerings in mourning silence. They even brought toys and stuff for my little sisters, not to mention advice on all of us to go see a family therapist. Honestly it annoyed the hell out of me, but I couldn’t rudely tell them to get out. They would have still come, thinking my outburst had something to do with my fathers death. I won’t lie. They would have been exactly right.

All that hospitality didn’t last long though because a month later, some of our neighbors and many others, all experienced what we went through. They stopped coming, having to mourn over people they have lost recently. Soon, everyone in our city had lost someone. This happened constantly. People were found in back alleyways, dead, sometimes out in the streets in broad daylight.

It wasn’t long until momma started keeping us in the house. She didn’t like the odds of us getting killed. But at the time, people took these killings for granted. They still went to work, day and night, dropped their kids off at school, campaigned, ran festivals, went on dates, to the movies, etc. Those who died, died. As long as it wasn’t them or someone they knew, they went on with everyday life.

Momma knew better though. It’s why we were are alive now. She kept us inside, away from the possibilities of death. For food, she hired those who would to get them for us. Those who didn’t were also people who hid from death like us. We were lucky, us five.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world wasn’t.

The whole blowout had at first started out small, such as random killings every so often, policemen running around in confused circles, businesses shutting down, etc. But then it slowly got bigger, meaning gunshots frequently shooting through the air, flames licking various buildings, even more bodies on the streets then to begin with. Everything was quickly getting out of control. Explosions exploded out of nowhere. Screams emitted through the air in sheer terror. There were more gunshots, not from the police or any idealist with a gun. These ghost attacks were creating a genocide never seen in the history of America.

And that's not even the worst part.

In a matter of weeks alone, the chaos has managed to spread world wide, meaning every city, state, country, continent, etc. had become tainted like ours.

The police, the government, the president, the whole democratic or republican system in every country soon became defeated. Then never stood a chance. Hell, in some countries, all of them were dead, president and all. Even their bodyguards couldn’t stop the phantom bullets from piercing their leaders hearts and heads. Death was inevitable at this rate.

I used to think that as long as we weren’t out on the streets and inside the safeness of our homes we were safe, right? Right?! Well I was completely and utterly wrong. There were grey men. Men who went place to place, forcing people out of their houses for no other reason except for the obvious. Getting them killed.

This is what I’m seeing now, people of all genders and ages running wildly through the streets. They beg, they scream, they cry, and then boom!

One by one, they all get shot down by invisible hands with guns.

At times, the streets are deadly silent most nights because, ironically everyone is dead. But then the grey men come again and unleash many others into the street, forcing the cycle to continue over and over and over again.

“I hope to God we won’t be next.” I pray silently in my head.

Then next I realize.

I might as well have just jinxed myself.

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