Descriptive Essay On My Mask

Satisfactory Essays
I put on my mask and I get on my shoes as I walk out into the cameras’ views. The glare from the cameras are unbearable as the summer 's been starting. The hazen white and cream of the Inner Citadel was always blindingly bright in the light that came from the sky lamp. I hated it in the Inner Citadel, always have, always will. I grew up here as a child, cameras watching my every move. Remember to put on the mask they would tell me.
My mask was special; I was a jam maker. My mask was white with a pink strawberry in it, with the number 213-09-07 in each of the seeds. The cameras constantly scanned my face, as jam makers were both rare and important. Jam was used for everything, from food, to happiness, to even water. Everything was made
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They lived out in the Outer Citadel, why would one be here? Then, I heard a chink and felt something sharp in my neck. I pull it out before anything is injected, and the camera tries to inject me again. This time, I run for the truck. Why were they chasing me? I had done nothing wrong? I run about five feet ahead of it when something grabs my leg, pulling me into the ground. It was a security worker of 86 was holding me down to ensure my euthanization. I bite at his hand and he releases me. I run again, not looking behind and running into the trunk of the truck. By then, everyone was inside, waiting for the driver to take it away. I closed the back hatch, and waited for the truck to move before I breathed. The truck started to drive, and I took my mask off and relaxed. I was going to be killed. I touch my neck, a large welt starting to form. I look at the packages to realize that there were tons of illegally stored Happiness brand joy pills here. There were enough pills to make everyone in the Inner Citadel happy for a few years. I was wondering what was going on, until the truck stopped and I jolted forward. I heard footsteps come closer to the back, then I heard the driver and someone else talk. I jump when a man opens the back, letting light flood into the trunk. He starts shouting to his buddies, and they quickly grab their guns and started to aim. “Listen, fellas. I don’t want any trouble,” I say as calmly as
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