Dystopian future Notes: There is no religion!. The law states you have to believe there is no god. If you are caught praying you will be sent to jail to where they brainwash you into not believing in any religion anymore. This process is called “unbaptised.” it is the year 2063, Others that don’t believe in religion are called “The Realists”
Chapter One
On the 3rd In the month of March 2063, it was a cold foggy day in South London, Left hand hitting midnight. Adam Nostradamus, his hands buried deep in his jacket pocket all the way to the old strawberry gum that he left there last week as a way of escaping the endless winter breeze, brushed quickly as he could across the intersection of Blackmore street through to Ralph Tell road, which was empty as a church and smelt of decayed food. He rushed through his old rusty doors of his house, swiftly as he could, however not swiftly enough to stop the flakes of snow coming along with him into his hallway which reeked of dirty laundry and old shoes. First thing Adam noticed when he entered, through the door at the end of the hallway that lead directly to the living room was that old Samsung TV from 2024 that he left on foolishly. The TV was repeating the end of the advert that resembled the praying emoji with a cross going over it. The society of “The Realists”, the symbol of “unbaptism.” Adam saw it in boredom impersonating the old man that speaks over it ruggedly. “God isn’t real! The belief of him is a lie! Praying and any sort of support towards religion will lead to justified punishment from the law! We Are The Realists!”
Adam chucked his bag onto the living room coffee table, which erupted too clouds of dust, too tired to drag it into his room. Wanting to lie down and bury himself under the covers, but beneath his skin was still the subtle frosty breezes running through his bones.
As Adam collapses down onto his unmade bed, he immediately was alarmed by something outside his window. “Get off me!, I didn’t do it I swear, I didn’t pray!, Please, Please sir, Please!!!” A man outside, who sounded in his mid 40s, screaming and yelling in desperation. Dragging himself out of bed to investigate. Slowly opening up the curtain enough to get at least one eye squinting through, parting the curtain just slightly. Under a dimmed light post the man who Adam assumed was screaming, now seemed to be unconscious. Bleeding from his head while being dragged cruelly down the concrete kerb by a big dark figure, towards a police car that was stationed in front of them.
Adam cautiously closed the curtain. He shuffled his way back to his bed trying to make as little noise as possible, in the hope he can fall back to sleep. Beneath him, his bed creaks uncomfortably, making his spine freeze. Trying to close his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, the image of that man being dragged across the pavement kept reoccurring in his mind. Slowly, but surely he drifted into a phase of darkness.
Eyes aching to open, he finally woke up, checking his phone only to feel panic. Sleeping through all of his alarms, his phone which had 61 messages and 34 missed phone calls from Noah, Adam’s brother. Noah was stress texting him on all social medias, I-Message, Messenger, Snapchat, all of it. You could feel the sweat from the other side of the screen with the way he was typing. The brightness making his eyes burn, squinting his eyes in able for him to read through the foggy blur. “Dad is going to be unbabtised!” “Get up now!” “He has been taken to the camp!” Adam, his mouth wide open, mind in awe, burst off energy, got up immediately, didn’t waste any time to brush his teeth or even have a shower. Throwing his clothes on his body, and starting to panic more, sweating through the clothes he just put on. Trying to call everyone who knew his dad. But no one picked up.
Lying in the corner of his living room, with the constant ringing in his ear, on the floor which hasn’t been vacuumed in weeks, lying in the puff of dead skin, freaking out with his phone surrounded by his hand, trying to think of solutions for what he can do, but there was nothing. There was nothing he can do. No one was picking up, not even his mum who always had her phone on her. Adam, getting so upset and concered, to the point where he was furious, talking and mumbling to himself under his breath. “How can no one have their phones on them, its f***en 2063!” As he continues with his heavy breathing he begins to have dark thoughts and speaks them out loud “Do they know about me?” “Why can’t I and my family have freedom of thought and belief?”
Out of nowhere. Adam woke from his thoughts, he was alarmed by hearing slamming and yelling on the door, his phone revived, Noah messaging him several times, telling him in panic . “they know! The Realists know!” Adam read the message in disbelief. Tears fall from his eyes and drips down his cheek slowly, beneath his skin, his bones shiverer, his heart skipping a beat. Adam didn’t know what to do. There was no way out of this situation. It was too late at this point for him
In a split second after dropping a tear the door broke down, slamming into the wood floor, charging through were 5 men, yelling in demand as loud as they can in a psychotic yet rugged way “We know who you are!”
Chapter Two
This is working correctly as a ‘limited third person’ piece. There are some clear distinctive elements that reflect the “Dystopian” genre – and there’s a sense of the immediate moment being established – however, you’ve moved into ‘narrative’ very quickly, while over-looking or rushing the establishment of setting.
Your first paragraph is a little too close to George Orwell’s first paragraph to be considered original writing. The language effects and sentence structures definitely may be re-created, but you’re also adapting the subject matter. You’ll need to re-write this with greater variation from the original.
After the first paragraph, you then deviate into action – describing at quite fast pace a narrative that has very little sensory description or further creation of setting.
Rather than writing on, write back into what you have, adding these layers of description.
Work on:
Diction. Your word choice is sometimes quite straight-forward, and at times even borders on cliche, “got up as quickly as humanly possible”. Remember the opportunity you have to develop rich nominal phrases to create atmosphere.
Syntax. Develop a greater array of sentence structures, and use these for more deliberate effect. Remember our work in relation to fronted prepositions, and consider using more of these for the development of a sense of ‘place’.
Sensory Appeal. Ensure you take time to engage your reader’s senses. You are doing this in relation to the characters to some extent, describing their thoughts – however there’s very little, after the first paragraph, about the physical people or place: anything visual, aural, tactile. The purpose of this kind of establishment of setting is to infer more. Remember Winston’s varicose ulcer, the ‘swirl of gritty dust’, and the smell of boiled cabbage?