Passed Down Gold, Forbidden Fates Unfold
Some of Mr. Summer’s crewmen walked up to him backstage before he was about to help everyone get their individual papers. For the past decade, ever since he was a youth at the age of eighteen, he had been hosting the lottery and each and every time he’d had the same strategy to save himself from being selected. Underneath the pleated black suit he was wearing was a little folded stifled note card made out of the same papers that were in the box, and it was completely plain on the inside of it. His father had used the same strategy when he was younger, as he was the town’s mayor. Mr. Summer massaged the little gap between his ear and his neck and had a flashback about his father’s words back in the day.
He pictures himself in a smaller suit, a little less dusty and ripped than the one he’s wearing today, with brown curly hair and little wrinkles between his eyes that stayed because of all of the crying he had done the previous night. His father brushes up Mr. Summer’s hair and glides his hands over his dimples that were scarred from fake-smiling all the time. His face transforms from a bright red to a dreary pale, and all of his sweat seems to just vanish in an instant.
“We do this lottery every year so that we can afford to do this lottery every year. And one day, with the right amount of people,” his father pauses and raises his bushy eyebrows with a smirk, “you’ll be able to live a better life than the one we live today.” he chuckles.
The crowd waiting outside started to applaud and Mr. Summer rubbed his hollow eyes and plastered on a smile, coming back to the present day, robotically waving out his hand and then fixing up his emerald-colored tie.
Several community members called out to him from backstage, and he rushed to the back without saying a word back to the crowd.
Old man Warner raised up his head in a quick motion and clasped his small hands together. “You got the person you’ll be gettin’ this year? It best be a Hutchinson.” he exclaimed, placing one of his hands on his hips and the other on his walking stick. “They don’t suffer no losses in general, they might as well get the greatest loss of all.” he said.
“And they never throw those stones hard enough to the people who ‘won’ the lottery fair and square.” Mrs. Delacroix pitches in, “It’s unfair honestly. They better be good sports when they are selected.”
“So we’ll do something unfair back to ‘em. Something that ain’t even in the rules. And you both better be quiet about these plans.” Warner rolled his eyes and pushed up his glasses, made a quick snap with his fingers and shut his eyes. He walked away into the distance, sitting on some plastic chair next to Mr. Adams who was burying his nose inside of a chapter book.
And when the time came a’ rollin’ around, Tessie Hutchinson stepped up to the plate and nudged herself along to get a piece of paper from her father. She ended up finding that her hands were wavering from side to side, and her bones chilled on the summer’s day like no other body had shivered before. Little teardrops started twisting down her face and her back started growing sore as her stomach churned. She really felt as though she was bound to die at any moment. Some of the people around her started chuckling. Her mother’s eyes were moving fast like little butterflies, and she held her own palms as if they were her children’s.
Mrs. Hutchinson smiled at her, “You go Tessie! You go show ‘em what you’re worth! That’s my girl, Tessie!”
Mr. Summer came around the corner and forced the slip of paper out of her father’s hands, giving it to Tessie. Her eyes widened. The tears stopped rolling down her cheeks, and little white indentions that came from the tears seemed to fade away with the growing paleness on her face. She saw the black chalk on the piece of paper, and buried her face into her hands.
Summer gave her a pat on the back and moved aside her blonde hair, “Well what do you know? You look dead already!” he whispered in her left ear.
Leaving the family behind, Summer ran off up front, fixing the mic stand and brushing over his own hair.
“So,” there was a long pause in the silent crowd, and everyone shared the same sullen eyes on their gray faces, “we have our winners.”
