top of page
Do You Need Writing Knowledge? What to Know Before Writing
Eight Main Narrative Conflicts (with examples) for Your Novel
Writer's pictureAlly MacDonald

Writing Prompt Wednesday #4: Did I Break the Class System?

I realized that the titles of these were somewhat confusing, so from here on out, the titles will be for the prompt answer from the week prior.


New Prompt (for August 31, 2022):

"The moon doesn't exist. It's a hologram put there by beings unknown. One night it says 'Error 404' where the moon should be. You go to tell your roommate but all you find is a red glowing 'Error 404' hovering above where they should be sleeping." {credit to @writing.prompt.s on Instagram}

Old Prompt (from August 17, 2022):

"The world revolves around an inherited Class system. Farmers breed farmers, nobles breed nobles. But inheritance and infidelity work in strange ways, fusing Classes into variations that can be crippling—or liberating. You became an adult today, and the Classes available to you are unexpected." {credit to u/Kancho_Ninja in r/writingprompts}

My Story: Did I Break the Class System?

We had been taught the decree since we first started school. "At the age of eighteen, each child will attend the Class Joining Ceremony. Of the options available to them, each child must choose only one to join for the rest of their lives."

For all kids, it tended to be nerve-wracking, I had watched countless Joinings before and seen it ruin marriages and divide households. See, your class options were determined by the classes your parents were already a part of. If both of your parents are farmers, you become a farmer. If your parents are a dame and a duke, you become one, too. But if your parent cheated, everyone knew.


You see, classes merge in weird ways. If your father is a farmer and your mom is a cook, all kinds of food service and cultivation jobs are available to you. The real problems arise when it's two classes that don't mesh well. Last year, a custodian had an affair with a governor and the child became the CEO of a cleaning equipment business.


Today was the day. I got to find out what my mom's class was. My father raised me from the day I was born. It was too difficult for him to talk about her since she passed during childbirth. Occasionally, I would catch him staring at photos of her. I dug them out one time but couldn't figure out anything except for the fact that I looked just like her.


As my peers and I filed into the room trying to decide if we would leave our parents or choose to stay in the same class they've been in their whole life. For some of them, the decision was easy. Other ones would get up there and their lives would turn upside-down. Me, I didn't know what to expect.


Person after person went. The process was easy. There was a sterile needle that would pop out of the computer system in the middle of the stage. You were prompted to prick your thumb on the needle, and your blood was captured. The needle would disappear as the machine tested your blood for your two DNA matches. Then, you moved to a large computer screen where you could scroll through your options and choose your class.


"Welcome class of AW024 and distinguished guests," Chancellor Sanders greeted everyone. "As you are all aware, this is a huge day for our seven hundred graduates who have turned eighteen in the past year. The decision they make today is the beginning of their forever. We will begin with Sarah Abbott and continue through the alphabet."


Sarah Abbott cried as her options came up. Carley Drake continued to press the screen until her one option came up. Daniel Johnson cursed out his father based on his options. Emmett Lincoln didn't even look at his options and clicked on a random one.


As we crept through the alphabet, my hands grew clammy. People continued to go up on stage and the line in front of me kept shrinking. As James O'Connell climbed the steps, my heart hammered in my chest. The three wooden stairs in front of me felt like a mountain. The lady in the blazer and pencil skirt approached me and asked for my name.


"Amelia Peters," I managed to squeak out.


She checked my name off the list and placed her hand on the middle of my back to usher me forward when it was my turn. I stumbled and almost crashed face-first into the steps with the gentle nudge the lady gave me. I regained my balance before climbing the stairs on shaky legs.


The pristine white machine seemed more intimidating from on stage than it did from the seats. I'd donated blood twice before, so the needle didn't freak me out as much as it should have. I placed my thumb in the holder, and the braces clamped down to hold it in place. There was a quick poke before the needle retracted into the machine. With a deep breath, I proceeded to the computer screen.


Goosebumps covered my skin. Chills ran down my spine. My heart plummeted into my stomach.


12,000 JOBS AVAILABLE


Every single job was available to me. Near the top, I could see my parents' classes.


Joshua Peters: Biological Engineer

Olivia Kaminski: Historical Novelist


I looked up at my father. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he met my gaze. He just nodded his head.


He had always known. That's why he never told me what my mom did. There were rare occasions where classes were opposite enough that it unlocked every job. My father and his love for science and mathematics combined with my mother's love for history and language and opened every door for me.


As my gaze shifted back to the screen, real panic set in. My vision started to blur. I gripped the edges of the compute monitor for support as my head began to spin.


Then, there was nothing. I was surrounded by black. I saw her sitting at a writing desk in the distance. Thin round, reading glasses aided her pale blue eyes read over what she was writing. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a messy updo held precariously by a claw clip with a few short curly pieces spilling out to frame her face.


She looked up and smiled at me. Warmth spread from my face to my fingertips and down to my toes.


"Darling," she whispered as if it were a secret. "You've made a good choice. I know it suits you well."


When I came to, there were several people in business attire around me. One man in a collared shirt and khakis checked my head and my pulse. My dad brushed my hair off of my forehead.


"Amelia? Are you with us?" The lady in the blazer and pencil skirt asked.


"Yes," I said. "I'm better. I'm ready to choose."


My dad smiled down at me. "You already have. It's perfect."


I pushed myself up on my elbows and peered around everyone's heads. The screen blinked two words that were my whole future.


JOURNALIST: WILDLIFE


I thought about all the time I spent staring into the animal enclosures at dad's work. I wanted to be right there with the animals in their environment. I loved them so deeply, especially the ones that needed more love than others. The axolotls were precious to me. Manatees were stunning and powerful creatures. Sharks were misunderstood majesties.


Then there was my love for words. When I wasn't with dad, my nose was in a book. I had written hundreds of creative stories to entertain my young cousins at holiday get-togethers. I loved crafting something out of nothing and carefully mulling over each word until I found the right one.


The perfect marriage of my father's and mother's interests had been accidentally selected when I had passed out.


My eyes met my dad's. "You're right. It's perfect."





3 views0 comments

Related Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page