There were blue skies

Days were light,

Then no skies

Days were naught.

-CHAPTER 1-

My Mother slapped my wrist.

“What?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You know exactly what I mean!” She frustratedly whisper-shouted.

I went back in the front door, while Mother waited in the small, grass strip in front of our house.

From the short stand right inside, I grabbed a red bandanna. I wrapped it around my left arm, and went to catch up with Mother.

Our house was placed in a gray city. The city itself lacked personality, function, or anything else for that matter. It was but a sea of one story, half timbered, brown and white buildings, none of which particularly interesting compared to the one next to it. But under the surface, the residents of our city are a thriving community. We call it a, “City,” but that's only because everything is packed so tightly. In reality, it only houses about 500 people.

The city contains a small market. It's mostly for selling food, clothing, and jewelry. Although, none of the people harvest any of the crops here. It’s all rationed from the government outside of the city. It’s not that there’s not enough food to go around, it’s just that no one outside trusts people like us with growing food.

The city is called, “Red,” and it’s located in southern Sarah. I’m told Sarah is the micronation, although I couldn’t tell you where it is on a map. No one in Red is allowed to leave Red, so people don’t really talk about the outside very often. In fact, we’re not allowed to.

The fact that we’ve all been here since birth, and none of us have ever left means that we’re all very tightly knit. Most everyone knows each other here, but we see new faces every once and a while. The people of Red can all rely on each other.

My Mother and I had approached the market. It’s less than 200 meters from our home, so we go there almost every day. The streets were bustling with activity.

It was a beautiful day in Red. Clear skies, the subtle wind set over the top of the city. It’s not every day that Red is like that. Despite being named after a color, Red is a monotone city. For the last 60 days, nothing but gray skies and drizzling rain has dared step near us.

Some people were so excited that they began to shout with glee. We felt free, finally, ready to roam the open waters above.

It’s hard to put into perspective the euphoria that was laid over the city. This sense of shared joy was like nothing I had ever felt before.

“Bless the Father who gave us this day!” One man shouted into the blue skies above.

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The surrounding area halted, dead silence ensued. Everyone knew this was out of the ordinary.

I heard my heart beating for a moment. I was waiting for the worst.

A shot was fired near, shattering the silence. A soldier presented himself with a large, mystical tool. Everyone in town knew about the tool. Supposedly, it can kill a man with just the pulling of a trigger, but I’d never seen that happen. Nevertheless, it keeps us under the thumbs of the soldiers.

“Who said that?!” The soldier barked, “Which one of you said that? You know who you are!”

Not a soul dared to step forward.

“Scum.” The soldier said to himself, keeping his teeth glued together. “Fine, if that’s what you wish for. Uniform Check!”

5 other soldiers appeared behind the first one’s back. They all began to search everyone in the area, to make sure they were wearing the “uniform.”

In Red, the people living here are called the, “Laosarch,” We are required to wear, “Uniforms,” whenever we leave the house. For men, this is a red bandanna, it must be worn at all times. For women, they must wear a patch on their chest. The patch says, “Laosarch,” It has an image of a cat, with blood red eyes.

The soldiers checked each and every person extremely carefully. They ran their fingers over each and every man’s shoulders, snapping their head from one person to another. Eventually, a soldier said,

“Aha!” Everyone looked in his direction. He had taken a man by the arm. “Laosarch, where is your bandanna?” He asked the man, opening one eye wide and leaning in towards him.

“I- I must have dropped it.”

“Then why didn’t you pick it up?”

“I didn’t know it-”

“Nobody asked.” The other soldiers laughed at the man with no bandanna. “Well then, if you truly did drop it, then we’ll help you find it!” The soldier maniacally cackled at his own lie.

3 soldiers picked the man up by each of his limbs, and drug him away against his will.

“Wait! Help me! Somebody, anyone!” The man shouted desperately. But no one heard him. Or, it was like no one heard him. Unfortunately, this had become such a commonplace that no one even flinched at the kidnapping of a man against his will.

“Where is your God now?” One of the soldiers asked tauntingly.

“37a, let’s go.” Another soldier responded.

“Toodle-oo, my beautiful Laosarch!” 37a gleefully shouted.

It intrigued me that all of the soldiers have numbers. It was mysterious, none of the soldiers had names for themselves, at least they never said them around us. The soldiers have no origin either. They show up, and then leave. Sometimes consistent, sometimes not.

Mother tugged at my shoulder.

“Do you see now? That would have happened to you if I didn’t make you put your uniform on!”

I stood there, absorbing all her what-ifs.

Mother and I continued shopping at the market. At one stall, the shopkeeper began to chat with Mother,

“Oh, good morning Mrs. Baumann. It’s been a moment since I’ve seen your son, hasn’t it? How old is he now? Remind me his name as well, would you?”

“12,” She answered, “His name is Lavi.”

“I’m sorry he had to see that earlier. Must be hard on him to see soldiers acting like that out in the open.”

“Yes, well, we Laosarch all have to learn at some point.”

“Unfortunately, that is the case. Like birds trapped in a cage, we are forever crippled."