I was flipping through an old notebook from high school and found this little snippet I wrote that applied a story that I tentatively named "Morphine."
“The council lies!”
Silence fell on the room. Finally, a truth was out in the open. Jack and I turned to look at Ophelia. Her expression was unreadable. Retort building in her throat, Ophelia opened her mouth.
“But that’s unheard of. They’re the Council. They are the governors of Lethe. They govern us for a reason.”
“You think that way because you believe the lies! You’re falling right into their traps, Ophelia! Soon they’ll have you totally trapped.”
“How could they even do that?”
I looked to Jack and he nodded.
“Check behind your right ear,” I whispered.
Hesitantly her hand moved and began groping behind her ear. Her mouth opened in a gasp and I knew that she’d found the raised bumps in the hollow behind her earlobe.
“What is this,” she managed, her eyes boring into mine, unsure whether to be afraid or furious.
“Their mark,” Jack said. “We’ve all got one. They’re all slightly different though. It’s how the Council brands us and organizes us. They use a series of needles in some pattern to suck out bits and pieces of us, but also to replace bits and pieces of us. When you accept a position on the Council, you submit yourself to nineteen more needles and they rewire you completely.”
Ophelia looked shocked and her hand was still touching her mark. “Why?” Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“Because they’re looking for answers in all the wrong places. And all they end up with are lies.”
“Then what’s the truth?”
I finished reading and flipped the page, looking for the next sentence. But there isn't one. I think I need to go back to writing this story. It's a good one. ;)