READ THIS BEFORE READING THE STORY:

My set piece is based on Harrison Bergeron, where it is 2035 and the USA has changed. No one can speak or make a sound because nowadays, people can manipulate others in a split second. It is so ludicrous that people can only cough or sneeze 10 times per day, or you will have to pay a $300 fine. There is a union called the Noise Control that kills the people who speak one word or make a sound. Because of this, they can only use sign language to speak. This is because people are now more advanced at manipulating or convincing others. I have used a little bit of humor, colloquialism, imagery, some similes, and tone.

I walked through the long hallway to my bedroom. The floor creaked as I walked in. The acceptance letter to YALE. That opportunity was a leap away from my success, but no, that stupid president had to put a mute on everyone because his people can’t shut up. Like the USA is the quiet kid at a party. Now, there are no tourists here, and the population is decreasing at a rapid rate. I would move out of here, but we are too poor!

I sulkily brushed my hair when I noticed my phone was flashing a red light. It’s probably Stacey. I got up and walked towards my bed. Hey girl, I signal, so whatcha going to wear for prom, she signaled. I signaled lemme show you, then I walked toward my desk.

“Ouch!” I screamed. I have toppled over the rusty stool. My phone was tossed on the floor, and blood was on the carpet. I just made noise. Anxiety drenched my whole body, and the only thing I was thinking about was that I am going to die. Mom rushed towards my room, she took one glance, and ran to the cabinets. She came back with a plethora of bandages, alcohol wipes, and Neosporin. It’s ok, she signaled. She strapped bandages around the wound and gave me antibiotics. You will be alright, she signaled. 

No, I won’t; I signaled back, I am going to be killed by the noise control. She signaled its ok. It's not, it's really not, I signaled. They might take everything you have, but in the end, they can’t take you, she signaled. I heard a knock at the door. It’s them. It’s them I signaled back to Mom. She signaled, remember what I said, then rushed to the door. 

A gunshot rang in my ear. The door's closing ended it. She took the blame—she took the blame—because of my stupid mouth.

A gush of rage, sadness, and loneliness fills up my body, almost choking me.

But those words, those words, kept me living.