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    The Nature of Morality

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    Chasing dreams: Turning passion to success

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We are indeed part of the same constellation.”

 When I look at the stars above my head, my entire body ruminates about the fact that we are, from every aspect, the same but somehow somewhere someone perceiving an impertinent image of us disgraces us and blows our entire existence away. We are veritably related to each other, whether you consider yourself to be normal or diseased. But if they come to know of my condition, they will shun me from their lives. I suffer from the most formidable disease of all: Homosexuality. I haven’t evinced this to my parents, and even if I trust them a lot, there is some part of me which is daunted by the ruination of me.

A knock on my door brings me back to reality and even if my desire to be who I am is hazed by the fulmination, my aim is not altered. “Myra, there are people here to see you.” My mom looks worried, she is holding a thick black cloth in her left hand, her glistening black hair longing to her knees has been tied vigorously in various twists and turns into a bun, her olive skin is dancing adroitly along her facial feature; the small eyes with a notation of wonder. I mount on the stairs, following her lead into the drawing room. Black uniformed people have besieged the room, the tiny blocks of furniture escape their attention but they don’t fail to attend to me.

“Hello! We are the HIghex and we are here to collect you,” my mind wander offs to millions of days back, trying recollect any dissolutions with the Highex but it fails to administer any details into my brain. My legs are shimmering robustly along with my entire body. The hope that the stardust will keep me alive dissipate into thin air, the fear in my eyes showers down me.

“But, I didn’t do anything. I never hurt you!” I scream as I try to escape my mother’s dreadful eyes and my father’s frightening glances. They are scared of me and most of all, their eyes depict that their stars are against mine, that we were never meant to be together, that I am diseased and they know it.

“You have been diagnosed with HOMOSEXUALITY.” They speak in an orderly manner, their voices continuously ring in my ears, breaching my physical body and entering into the inner one. My soul is hurt at the possibility of my demise. I have heard bad things about people who are like me, they get trapped inside a cell and are converted but if they still don’t give up the unusual tendency to be attracted to the same sex, they are abducted and executed. I never wanted to end up like this, but I surely didn’t want to be someone I am not.

“How did you find it out?” I blurt out the in my finest voice and with the perfect pitch. My parents look at me shockingly as if they had expected me to hide inside the closet for my entire life.

“So you admit?”

I nod my head.

“We don’t have to discuss it with you, filth. Now let us go.” They handcuff me and in spite of knowing that my parents won’t defend me from the predators, I look at them willingly but they turn their heads around and look down on me. My mother takes a step towards me and ties the black band on my eyes. Although I can’t see her next move, I figuratively expect her to take a bottle of sanitizer and wash my dust off of her.


They take me to the station, where I find myself shackled to a steel chair I am sitting on, in front of me is a wooden desk with a glass of juice and a straw. The barricaded room has a mirror, behind which I presume are people judging me; the other chair is now filled by a female officer, who looks about my age. She lays her cap on the desk and fixates her slim but tender hands on the desk. She then looks me in the eye and speaks, “Why did you admit to a having such a dreadful disease?”

“First of all, I don’t think of it as a disease but a blessing and second of all, you stink.”

“So you like girls?” she doesn’t even budge from the insult, it just pasts through her like a bullet-less gun. She puts down her hands and stands up, she is now holding my chin tight enough to break it.

“Uh-huh! Why don’t you just say it? You are holding the chin of a lesbian.” She stares down at her hands and takes them off me, she pulls her hair down, showing off her exuberant beauty, her long legs are covered in leather shorts with the rest of the part covered in boots, her dark complexion is highlighted with her perfectly coloured black hair and fixated dreamy brown eyes. And when I do get a chance to look nicely at her, I realize that she has never been more shamed of anything than now.

“Shut up!” she screams and asks the guards to ensnare me down to the conversion room, she ties her hair again and hawks at me with her wistful eyes.

“Will see you soon Scary lady!”

“My name is Eline, now take her away. What are you waiting for!” she squeals, the other officers are already pulling me down through the stairs and into the horror that awaits me. How can they deem me invalid when I am made of the same stardust as them? How can they call me diseased when they throw their loved ones away to die? How can I reach heaven when the barriers are up so high?

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Ben birch
5 years ago

Not a bad concept could be used as the start to a script about a couple who make it out of the situation or maybe manage to change that type of thinking

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