Two more letters. Sorry if anyone finds offense in these...I'm really not a pessimistic person and I seriously don't hate the government at all...it was just more interesting to write about a potentially bad situation than an optomistic viewpoint (which I ironically have).
Letter 2
Trillions of your dollars are buried into the camps. They were once your dollars and borrowed dollars. Now they are hidden camps. I’ll call them camps, because camps make it sound better than it really was and my intention isn’t to scare you.
Well, maybe it is.
I bet you’re picturing something really horrific now. Bet it doesn’t come close to what I’ve seen. Instead of giving you a picture, I’ll give you a sound: A never ending belting of human voices, screeching, terrifying, nauseating sound that make your heart beat fast and glaze your body with sweat. Salt. Once you’ve been underground for a while, this sound becomes normal. I think if there had ever been silence, we all would have died. There were rumors of what made people scream. A withered old woman once told me that it was a pasta machine…but for people. Population control at its finest. Did you ever wonder why everyone was pro-choice? Or the worries of global warming because there were too many people on the earth? Well, we’re taking care of that problem…down here in hell.
Letter 3
This is my final letter because I’m about to take the walk for the last time. It was a long walk, and down a hallway of sorts. The smell was earth blended with human. There was no ceiling, really. Just mud. I began to wonder what exactly was holding this prison together. It felt like some imaginable force had burrowed its way through the underground and carved out a nook for us. God. Science. Technology. I think we should have stuck with the first one.
I’ve done this walk for what seems like a million times since I’ve been here. But I know today’s the day. They told me, isn’t that sad? To tell someone they are about to be killed? I wonder what it will feel like. I know I’ll turn left at the end instead of right, which led to more “prison cells.” I know what I go left, I won’t come back—they never come back.
If you were walking down the hallway with me you wish you were wearing shoes. You would wish that you had light, but we don’t have light anymore. I don’t think Hell has light either, actually. Maybe flames. If you had light, you wouldn’t need someone to lead you like will be leading me this afternoon. I don’t even know who that guy is…a guard? The president? Charlie Sheen? Who the heck knows. Whoever he is, he’ll be my last contact with this world. I’ll pretend that it’s you and that you can save me. Read this, and read it carefully. Pay attention to what’s happening and take a stand. Don’t let this happen again…
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