There were no colours. No expression on faces, no different clothes. No different nothing. People were dressed in black overalls covering their faces. It was new technology; it created the mirage of a body type. It was the year 2049. In the previous decade the world suffered from acute shortage of energy resources, the oil reserves were dry, coal was nowhere to be found and alternate resources were not developed enough to take place of the conventional. People pined for water; the concrete jungle they made was biting back. People were isolated, desolate, desperate and despondent. This is where the extremists came in, influencing the citizens. They called for war of the races and bid let only the fittest survive. Suddenly the world in a matter of hours killed masses of people for nothing other than their appearance, the mixed races weren't even given the time to plead, all of them were murdered. It was genocide, the war of races took a toll on people, they had wiped out some minorities but it was a long way to go. Some said it was tough for them to be bloodthirsty, to take a life and rejoice in its blood, they were considered weak. These weaklings were tried and marked, in case of emergency their lives were exchanged for little fodder. Humans were ants, there was no
safe haven. The polar ice caps had already melted causing floods and mass destruction, and people couldn't be gladder, they wished for the extinction of other races. The Chinese, the Indians, the Caucasians and the Negroes, all against one another, intolerant, ready to lash out. The old had to be sacrificed in order to bring the new. There was one warrior, an Iranian, Raoul, who went on to become famous for his ruthlessness. He didn't forgive and never forgot. He remembers that his parents had conceived him illegally, they were both orphans and had no one to be put to death. They fled from one corner of the state to another but eventually people caught up with them. He was 2 at the time. The extremists had made up their mind, both of them were killed. One for punishment and the other as a sacrifice. Raoul was brought up in military camps, earning sympathy of none. He was put to work since the time he has memories of anything. Raoul had made up his mind- to change the system you must conquer it. After years of bloodbath the world finally subsided, no one knows how many cultures were bid goodbye to, and certainly not how many people. People feared Raoul. Subsided human emotions of love surfaced in others after the war, but not in Raoul, he lost his heart the day his parents were killed, the day he picked up a gun, the day he was beaten cruelly, the day nobody cared about him. He resolved to rule, to change what was there. He was scared that someone would end up like him, unloved and unwanted. Raoul is now the king of the little we christened as the world. It was disparities the war, and he put a stop to our differences. Even the voice which comes out of a person is controlled and is the same for everyone. There are no colours, none at all. This world, it doesn't know dance, music or culture. There is no reason for celebration. It doesn't have an almighty to look up to. People have no choice, they don't know how to think, they can't aspire to be anything because they are all the same. All literature was washed in the war but sometimes when the ancestors doesn't even qualify as one. A day brings no hope, no joy. We are just happy it has passed. There is nothing we know about the way of life, religion is lost, and the majority doesn't even know what it was. Sometimes I wish I was born before, sometimes I wish I could do more than sneak stories from my grandfather and write them, sometimes I wish that a little child wasn't orphaned, sometimes I wish we respected and cherished our differences while we still had time