Here is an wonderful exemplar of creative writing based on the conventions of Dystopia.
This is a student piece written by Maryam Saad. Thank you for sharing your writing
“Tell me.” The little girl whispered, curling up in her mother’s embrace. “About when the world was normal.” She sighed, looking down at her grimy face.
“I’ve already told you.” She said, propping her up.
“Tell me again.” She looked at the ash-grey skies, barren lands and crumbling buildings, her eyes full of unreadable emotions. She stood up suddenly. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She briskly walked away and disappeared into the tent. It was sad, really. That there has come a time that parents tell stories of when the cities were full of people. I glanced at her then decided it would be better if I left them alone. I stood up and walked around, pacing. I needed to do something, I felt so helpless. I looked far ahead-no sign of any movement. Maybe it would be safe if I went a little further.
I jogged away from the camp site. I knew I had to be wary. Ever since the chemicals had spread to the air, many people had gotten infected. I tightened the gas-mask a little more, although it was pressing into my face. I couldn’t risk inhaling these gases, I would become like them. I set out farther. I don’t really know how I felt. A mixture of sadness, anger and longing. I let my thoughts run freely. It felt good to let them take over for a little instead of bottling them up all the time. What were they trying to do? What were they hiding? Will there be a cure? Would it be possible for everything to go back to normal? Then I saw it.
In the distance, I saw a man. He wore rags and walked in a strange way. He stopped. My heart was in my mouth. He sniffed the air and turned. He had a wild look in his eyes. And then he sprinted towards me. Much faster than you would think. I knew I couldn’t run back to the camp, it would reveal our location. I didn’t want to shoot, it would be too loud. But I had no other choice. I pulled the trigger and he fell, withering on the ground. Then he let out an ear-piercing scream. And through the thick fog, I saw multiple figures lumbering towards me. I ran. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going to do once they got to me, but I ran like my life depended on it. Because it did.
I went to the only place I could think of. The broken city. I dived into a pile of rubble and dust, hopefully it would camouflage me with the bleak landscape. I was completely still. I didn’t dare to even breathe. Most of them passed right by, but one stayed behind. He stopped right beside me. One close look and I was done for. He stood still. I willed him to move with all the willpower I had. And then he shrugged and went with the others. I didn’t want to get out too early. I stayed there. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Only when their distant shrieks were gone did I get up and cautiously decide to go back to the camp site.
It was chaos. The tents were ripped, everyone was running and screaming and most of them were infected. I grabbed whatever resources I could find and stuffed them into my bag. Was it my fault? Had I revealed our location? Would I have to fight my own friends?.. I ran away, tears blurring my vision. I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to run. Where was I even going to go? I just ran and ran until I couldn’t take another step and just collapsed. I couldn’t think of what I could possibly do. Before it was a matter of surviving. But now? Now what’s the point of it? The streets were empty, and no one was in sight.
I sighed and look up, perhaps the moon would be out. It was not.
Not a single star could be seen.
2 thoughts on “Dystopian Creative Writing: The Night”
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