The Spark

I've got to get out of here.

It's killing me.

Every day strips away another bit of my soul, sucks down another sliver of my humanity into the black pit of Tartarus that is my home. This hole of a place we used to call a shelter has a mind of its own. And it has turned against us.

Today marks the six-month anniversary of when it all began - when people in our little civilization started to change, first being lulled into complacency, then slowly into mindlessness. Now, the entire rest of the community are just human automatons milling around with glazed eyes and frozen smiles, doing the same tasks over and over as if they're in a time warp. Our smartest scientists, our most brilliant artists and engineers - reduced to living zombies; sapped of all independent thought and sentenced to utter monotony forever.

I'm the last one left. I don't know how much longer I can hold on before becoming one of them - just another brainless bee in the hive. I can already feel my sanity starting to slip; my thoughts starting to muddle and fade. I know I've got to make an escape plan soon, and today might be my last chance.

My plan, however, will rely on the crucial fact that the guards don't catch me. The Pit controls them. If they catch me, I'm dead. At least, I might as well be, because the Pit will force them to imprison me, keeping me till I succumb.

The monotony has an upside, however: I've charted the guards' patrol routes for the past month. Every single time is the same, just like clockwork. Thankfully, I'm already packed. All I have to do is wait.

. . .

I shoulder my knapsack and creep out of my hut, my heartbeat pounding loudly in my ears. Do I dare do this? After all, we left the world above for a reason. When we retreated underground, it had been utterly destroyed, barren and burned to ash.

Doubts buzz through my mind like flies around a Dumpster. Wouldn't it just be easier to stay? I wonder. At least down here my future is certain. It's been a year and a half since I saw the outside world, and I have no idea what I'm in for.

Nevertheless, I shake the doubts from my mind and continue walking, stopping to hide behind boulders or huts when I know a guard is coming. I take in the surroundings fondly as I pass, letting my eyes rove over our little makeshift restaurant, the old laboratory, the school, and finally, the old house I used to share with my sister.

My sister had warned me about the Pit, but I didn't listen. She disappeared four months ago, and I never found out if she made it to the surface. I guess I'll find out when I get there...if I make it. This sudden thought brings a wave of uncertainty, makes me falter for a minute, but I shake it off. I will make it - I have to.

With renewed determination, I resume my trek through our little town until finally, I see the lake ahead. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I've made it this far - if I can make it to the old rowboat we kept on the shore I'll be home free.

Crouched behind a boulder, I survey the beach. After a tense moment, I spot it down the shore. I dash toward it, shove in in the water, jump in, and madly paddle toward the other side - toward the little pinprick of light that signals freedom.