Changing Morr

“Today’s the day I change. No, really, this time I mean it.”

It was the best lie I’d ever told myself while being ushered out of our gate with 7,000 other males. We bundled up our 1 pair of clothes on our shoulders along with our pride. Our shoes were stripped away as well as our Manma’s fingers, gripping our brown collards… Would it be considered real change if we knew it was coming from day 1? In Boarding we were told the definition was

“the act or instance of making or becoming different.”

I guess that’s what I wanted… I wanted something different.

Flies littered the air as the sun slowly faded behind the cracked buildings. A frigid wind slapped at our dark brown jumpsuits as we relentlessly walked forward, not knowing why, and not able to stop. In the early days we were plucked out because of the inevitable tendons snapping due to no stretching, or frostbitten toes back in the Hinge Valley. Miserable was an understatement when describing the trial we had been trained for since babes.

“Listen, if we all decided to run how could they stop us?” Krane smugly asked, leaning himself against a younger boy behind him.

“Because it’s never worked before.” Nearus softly said, shaking his rusty locks angrily.

“We don’t know that for sure…” Stated my best friend, and leader of our dingy group, Lorel.

“Yeah, s’pose you’re right, Lorel. S’pose that’s why none of our dad’s ever came back, no, NONE of the men ever come back. It’s because we don’t know nothin, and those masked fleas don’t say nothin.” Hefting his tall frame up quickly, Nearus turned angrily making his dramatic exit while wading through and stepping squarely on a mass of now angry awake boys.

“He’s right ya know. We know nothin.” I exclaimed softly, already seeing the looks on my friend’s faces in my mind. Krane would roll his eyes, Lorel would drop his head in thought, hoping that a new plan would be better than the one before. Drinch inevitably had checked out due to our lack of sign language, and Fallow.. Well Fallow was probably sleeping at this point.

“I can’t take that answer forever, Marr.” Lorel’s grey eyes searched my face as I looked up to him. “We have to try something, do anything and… and…”

“And not die before tomorrow.” finished Fallow, who was surprisingly not sleeping.

DAY 225

Dawnbreak today. Eyes meeting eyes as we finally let our bare, completely calloused feet find a stopping point. Splitting us up into groups of 8, The Grimms, or as we fondly called them, Fleas would lead us into the scrap of a tent on the edge of New Camp which was made every 5 days, and fed us. By day 20 Lorel realized that the groups picked to eat first were always at the back of the caravan VS the front…

“It’s a sick game. Those at the back are the weaker… They’re a few hours away from collapsing and being plucked. They’re fed so they can go longer and the Fleas can watch us suffer more.”

It’s hard to forget seeing a forgotten language for the first time… Fingers gracefully carving out words from the air around him, Lorel vented to his doormate, Drinch. My wide eyes gave away my surprise as Drinch looked over Lorel’s slight shoulders and pointed a dark finger at me.

Since that moment I’ve known that I was following closely behind the winner of this… If there was a winner at all. Whatever this was. Questions whispered during the freezing nights were more numerous than the stars at this point. Death was our greatest fear, and on hour 22 of day 4 before Dawnbreaks, it was secretly our deepest hope.

DAY 258

“JUST SAY SOMETHING!!!”

Feeling every vertebrae straighten click by click isn’t something I ever thought would remind me of my humanity. Remind me that I was still a person. Speaking was forbidden until the cloak of night when The Flea’s couldn’t decipher who had spoken, or really just didn’t care anymore, and on Daybreak days. Though our sense of hours had faded away, the count of days was the only thing that left us feeling normal… Today was not a day we could use our vocal chords.

Flashing forward Krane tackled Nearus to the dusty ground, and in an instant a lone hushed whisper commanded “Close in.”

This was new, exhilarating territory. By closing the gap around the deviant yeller, we ourselves were choosing to die, choosing to disobey… Choosing to change.

As if a conductor had lifted his wand, the symphony of us boys flowed together and closer to Krane who was shaking Nearus out of his death wish.

But with the symphony there’s always the clashing cymbals to awaken the audience from their daze… Black helmets moved forward quickly, and expertly though to everyone’s notice not as effortlessly as usual.

“Don’t. Stop.” This time the whisper was directly beside me. Lorel… The winner.

If one could watch prayers and pleads fly into the sky, there would’ve been millions as we directly went against everything taught to us in Boarding.

Rule 12.5

When in Wander Way there is no need to speak nor will it be permitted.

Rule 15.8

When The Grimms move in to give correction, move away immediately.

Move away immediately…. Move… Immediately… Shick. Shick this.

Manma wasn’t tolerant of much, but luckily for her, she had a son who never disobeyed. This was how I would excel, she always said as she fussed over a stew.

Excelling is the last thing coming to mind… move your feet. Move your feet.

“Move your feet, Marr.” The hushed command startled my dark eyes upward again, and the realization hit that I had stopped moving. This was the only rule you didn’t break, and without realizing it, I had disobeyed in the biggest way.

Panic flashed through me and my legs moved before my brain had time to give the command. Holding back a strangled sob, waiting to be Plucked, my eyes scanned around me.

Grimms were being knocked around by incoherent, terrified boys as they were still trying to locate the vocal criminal.

Safe. I was okay.

DAY 305

“Next time you decide to be an absolute shickhead I won’t be there, got it?” Krane fumed, long dark hair plastered against his sweat soaked forehead.

“What were you trying to accomplish, Neaurus?” Drinch’s fingers danced through the air jerkingly, expressing his annoyance.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I was just…”

“Just trying to get half of this group killed, that’s what. Like yelling would’ve done anything.” Krane interrupted, leaning forward on his knees, staring daggers into Nearus.

“At least I finally said something. Anything. Our motto is about doing something, right? RIGHT?”

Krane slapped his hand over Nearus’s mouth, causing a brief struggle that eventually faded into sobs. There was no fault in his speech… Was our group motto just a hopeful quote that would fade into nothing? Like us?

“You’re right. If we’re to have a motto, we’re to live by it. Today was a small glance in the right direction… A brief glimmer of warmth in our winter. There has to be change.” Sorel’s eyes closed in thought, and no one dared even breathe for fear that our only chance would blink out with the shifting of a boot.

But how does one person change an entire way of life? Sorel was smart, really he was the only option of hope at this point, but was there really an escape? Without even knowing why we were marching, or why we had been trained for this… Was there even an end?

DAY 333

Lorel’s plan was basically foolproof, except that we were all too cowardly to go through with it, minus Searus who was always up for anything rebellious these days.

His words were on repeat like the old tune on Manma’s receiver,

“Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…”  Changing the words from “fly” to “die” hadn’t helped my nerves, but it was better than the alternative. Giving stock to Lorel’s plan would secure our death, along with the 41 others who’d died in the last 28 days… yet there it was, replaying again.

Stupid plan. Stupid song. Stupid Frank Sinater, or whatever Manma said his name was. Loathing had begun to stretch across my skinnier, paler demeanor… 333 days. 66 meals. Out of 7,000 males there were now 82, soon to be 81 by the looks of Juno stumbling in the back, face paler than my own.

“There has to be change.” The sure, strong, annoyingly calm voice of Lorel rang through my dehydrated mind.

I went into this believing exactly that… But change wouldn’t come from ME. Staying neutral while others did the change making was my game… so why wasn’t that working?

The world around me swirled and slowed the moment I heard

“It’s now or never.” resound from Lorel’s small mouth.

“No, wait. We can’t - “ My excuse was cut off with another sound from the mass.

A low whistle shot through the air, clear and loud against the silence. Out of the corner of my eye, Krane’s body stiffened to a halt, fear lacing his veins. Neaurus oddly was out of sight, but with our eyes always pointed forward, taking the chance of turning around was deadly.

The tune continued without end it seemed, until a new harmony joined.

A voice from the midst.

…..my voice…

“Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away…”

The world had swallowed time in this moment. Escaping on the cusp of hope was impossible, so becoming change was the only option here. A smarter move on our chessboard of death.

Grimms filtered into the mass of boys, their direction pointed at us and their mission apparent, when to my right I got the answer to where Nearus had been before.

Perched on his shoulders Drinch signed intently, his lip quivering in fear while his golden eyes shined brighter than ever.

“Don’t. Stop. Morr. Keep. Going.” Small hand signals fed into my courage as I looped the song again, smiling up at Drinch as I waited for a Grimm to end me.

From the ashes of silence birthed a new change… Humming that started softly crescendoed quickly into a chant of change.

“FLY. FLY. LETS FLY AWAY.

FLY. FLY. LETS FLY AWAY”

And then it stopped. We all stopped. Stopping was forbidden, but here it was creeping down our legs, the solid release of tension and tendons.

Eyes meeting eyes, blinking away tears, trying to grasp onto an understanding of where we were… why it was so bright when just a moment ago we were at NightFell.

“It wasn’t real… It wasn’t real… Fake. We are fake.” Lorel repeated this line over and over again for weeks as we were all taken to our new placement, he rocked back and forth in the “lab” as the Grimms… er… Scientists had called our new habitat.

“They are a new breed of human, able to withstand all weather, survive off little to no sustenance, and the more and more they breed the less and less emotion passes down. A wonderful unit for any up and coming H. O. M. E. system.” A Gri- Scientist boasted to a dark suited woman, looking down at us with a countenance similar to Krane’s. Irritating.

After weeks I still wasn’t sure what it stood for, but what it was… well it wasn’t good.

We were scum, essentially. To be used, abused and tossed whenever the Fancies deemed us unusable, I guess. Lorel, in his psychosis, hadn't been wrong. It was all fake.

A test to see what new breeding update had proquired for them… what new model we were.

Everyday, 4 or 5 of us were taken upon request of the Fancies upstairs. Krane had been one of the first to go, walking away smugly until he got to Nearus. Shoulders dropping, I caught their hands slip together one last time.

Nearus left 3 days later along with Lorel and Fallow. The trio turned before reaching the darkened exit, catching mine and Finch’s eyes, only nodding.

Alarms raped the air angrily, causing us all to bow our heads in solemn understanding that it was yet another day of choosing and leaving.

Gloved hands firmly gripped my shoulders, marking me one of the chosen today.

Turning my body towards my last friend, I stumbled, seeing the tears race down Drinch’s face.

“Thank You. For. Changing. Me. Morr” was the deafening scream of silent words carved from air.