Creative Writing: Ethan Harwood's Journey Home

The dense, thick smog enveloped every living thing, turning them into thoughtless creatures. The grey, rectangular structures extended into the atmosphere, blocking out the sun to create eternal darkness. Invisible eyes stalked them from the shadows, the Health Agents, listening to every word just like living security cameras. The threat of contamination haunted every mind scaring them into devastation, the virus controlled every thought except those of the unique.

Ethan Harwood stood in his grey business suit with brown hair, greying at the temples and his blue eyes, dulled with despair. The circle of metallic and shiny scanners marked the centre of the city, where Ethan travelled every morning. The red and green lights perched atop the scanners

Ethan never listened to the propaganda, which was to influence the opinions of the mindless creatures in favour of the Health Organisation. His work colleagues were constantly changing as they were always being taken away. Ethan had never thought too much into it, but now the picture was suddenly becoming clearer.

As Ethan started his journey home through the polluted and rotting streets, he heard the weekly announcement, “Remember your compulsory psychiatric appointments tomorrow.” Ethan’s face fell; the unqualified, unintelligent psychiatrists always had the same two minute conversation with him. Now that he had suspicions about the Health Organisation, he knew that tomorrow’s appointment was not going to go well.

After an exhausting day at work, the blue sheets on Ethan’s bed, which took up most of the room in his tiny apartment, looked inviting. “Psychiatric appointment,” repeatedly echoed in his head, preventing him from the blissful sleep he yearned for. As morning broke,he lay motionless on his bed, thinking about the conversation, that would happen later on that