Young Writers Society

When Mel picked the critter up, she nabbed it by its outer shell with her long, splotchy grey nails. Its underside waved back and forth as all its brown legs furrowed and flailed. Even its long antenna flopped this way and that, pleading for its life.

The poor, poor little thing. What's the point in fighting? What do you want to live for? You're lower than dirt. If there's no reason for me to live, then why should there be one for you?

Mel pressed her thumb underneath the cockroach's belly, preparing to pop its guts outward. The voice of a young boy distracted Mel from her task, and she cupped the cockroach in the palm of her hand.

"Ma!" the boy shouted. "Ma! Look how big this one is, Ma."

He reached Mel's side and uncupped his hands. Several small roaches submerged, clamoring from the sudden light that burned their outer shells. The small ones fled up the boys arms and sleeves, and Mel saw the larger one he referred to before it escaped up his arm.

"'Gotta bigger one, though." Mel announced proudly, picking the cockroach up by her thumb underneath its belly. The boy's eyes sparkled. "Gee, it really is bigger."

"I think he's worth a full 10 points."

"Ain't mine at least half that, Ma?"

"I think so. Keep those ones, will you?" Mel pointed to the roaches which had yet to flee from the boy. He hurried to snatch them back up. Mel followed the excited boy down the street, pointing at the street signs every so often.

Strangers snickered at them, and often steered away when they came in sight. It was no surprise to Mel. Strangers would only avoid people as ratty as them. Mel held her cupped hands closer to her, maintaining warmth. The large cockroach in her hands fumbled still, for freedom.

Mel knew people would never understand that society crippled them. They liked their lives the way they were. They went to work every day and they've accepted that's all there will ever be. In disgust, Mel hacked spit up onto the sidewalk.

"'S wrong, Ma?"

"Nothin'" Mel said. "Up to the rooftop then, Eric?"

Grinning with a missing tooth exposed, Eric swooped ahead of Mel and up the stairs. They reached the rooftop after Mel picked the lock. The city looked endless from such a height.

"What time is it?"

"The bank clock says 2:58, Ma."

"Just in time, then. Get ready."

They looked over the side of the building and down below. Soon an older, overweight man walked out of the store below with baskets full of fresh bread. As he stepped into the street, Mel nodded. Eric caught her signal and their roaches went flying.

Eric immediately fell backwards, hiding from view as he held in his laughter. Mel watched the man panic and drop all his bread. She swatted Eric's arm and hissed. "Go now!"

Eric jumped up and fled down the stairs. Mel tucked some of her tattered, unwashed brown hair behind her ear, eyeing the old man who was flinging the last of the roaches off his shirt.

She bowed her head. Even those roaches had purpose, but she didn't. The taste of the warm bread did nothing to wake Mel. She picked at it slowly in a daze. Eric was smiling in between each bite. "S'wrong Ma?"

"Nothin'"

Silence returned between them. Eric gazed at the city, and his eyes seemed to penetrate it down to the very last road sign. "Ma..." he said without averting his eyes. "I want a house."

Mel choked on her bread. "You what?"

"I want a job and a house."

"You're too young for a job."

"Someday I'll be old enough. And I'll give you a room and a bed in the house."

He sounded like his father. She brought her bread closer, staring at the boy. They had the same tasseled black hair and the same deep grey eyes. Now they said the same things too. Mel pondered her response carefully.

"Haven't I taught you anything all this time?"

"Of course, Ma."

"If you get a job, you become heartless and empty. You can't do that."

"But Ma..."

"Do you want to become one of them?"

"No, Ma. But they aren't all heartless. What about Dad?"

"They become empty and heartless over time. Are you doubting me?"

"I'd never, Ma." he clenched his teeth down. "It's just that, I wanna go to school. I wanna learn how to read."

"I've told you to stay away from anything government run, haven't I? School is out of the question."

Eric nodded shortly, forcing more bread down. Mel watched as if Eric had reverted in age and needed to be supervised while eating. As he finished, he looked at her and asked "Is Dad heartless?"

"Yes, as far as I know."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You think he's heartless? He's a surgeon, ain't he?"

"He's blended into society very nicely."

"Really?"

"All he cares about is his next paycheck."

"What should he care about instead?"

"He's become another ant in the ant farm. Do you want to become another pointless member of society?"

There was silence again. She had not been expecting an answer, so when Eric said it was what he wanted, she slapped the words clean from his mind. He fumbled backwards, holding his hot cheek as warm tears dribbled down his face.

"Don't you cry." Mel said. "Don't cry in front of me or I'll hit you again."

Eric couldn't swallow his sorrow, causing Mel to land another blow. By this point he had reached his feet, enraged.

"I hate you!" Eric bellowed into his mother's face, holding his sore cheek. "Y'think you've escaped society, but you're still part of it you beggar! Dad was right-you've become the crusted dirt on society's shoes."

Furious, Mel stood to deliver another blow, but Eric turned and fled. He almost tripped avoiding it and stumbled down the stairs.

Mel embraced the bitter cold that surrounded her, alone now. Society was trying to take her only son away, just as it had taken everything else.

She pressed her lips together.