Creative Writing: The Allegiance Anthem By Charles Stone

“Why, Charles Stone, you’re starting to sound awfully similar to dissenters,” I said back with my mischievous grin. “Maybe even like Detonate, himself.”

“No. Detonate is just some loser high on the attention, I suspect. I’ve never meet him, myself.” His side smile upped his appearance and he was even sexier and more perfect than I thought before. The sharp lines of his cheeks sent me straight to his color-changing hazel eyes bursting currently with a bluish-green hue and giving me a long, very hungry, gaze.

Interesting.

Although my prejudice about him being my forced husband never prevented me from noticing his physical attributes, I continuously lied to myself about his perfections. His perfect eyes and hair and body were just another reminder of the Mother Country and my own imprisonment in this over perfected shithole. Now, sitting close, observing his stare, I was starting to discover why all the girls chatted about the mysterious and darkly handsome Charles Stone. “And I didn’t write the Allegiance Anthem. It was written years before I was even born.” He mentioned as he inched closer. It was like he could see my emotions. Distinguish them without even asking. I felt naked, exposed, and yet, another feeling spiraled up

One of the most perfected people on the entire fleet, Zwingler was an easy selection as a leader. I didn’t know a single girl who didn’t have at least one fantasy dream about him. He was too pretty for me. Too feminine. Like he spent a lot of his day on his hair and he wore eyeliner. His head shook up and down with his fist, as he yelled names I didn’t recognize. I realized moments later, the names were from another satellite ship. The Iron Hand. Not mine. At least not yet. I could feel my breath, my pulse, everything pumping throughout my body while he went on. Is this it? Is this the time my name is called? Questions which go through my head at every dissenter