The bell rang.
Each student stepped to designations.
“Begin. Page 17. Future Career Possibilities. ”
Never a “Good Morning” or a “Nice to see you.”
“All life was castrated.” Dad whispered that once… as we lay in bed awaiting the proper sleep.
At night, alone… Oh, the stories. Of giants and beanstalks. Of trolls and elves. Once Dad drew on our sheets. “Daisy,” he said.
No more. Not since little Sarah passed. That night, dad hummed. Music.
It made me cry.
“Alfred. Are you with us?”
“Yes, Sir.” I stood at my desk. Alert.
“Erasers. A noble, necessary occupation.”
Written for Carrot Ranch Communications: Flash Fiction Challenge. Requirements: March 16, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) go down the rabbit hole to a place where art is not allowed. It could be a small story or a dystopian vision. Is there a power struggle over art? Would the general public miss it? Is the end of art a natural evolution? Go where the prompt leads.