A To Be Determined Ending

Six years is a long time to go without running. She could feel every second of those six years in her screaming lungs. The girl cursed at herself for spending her Work Hours sitting down. Luckily her adrenaline drowned out all other thoughts except for one: keep running.

She couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black night. She had considered taking the main roads, which were well-lit by street lamps, but she didn’t want to risk it. Only a fool would run in complete darkness, but she was so desperate she resorted to foolishness.

She would do anything to get back to them in one piece.

The rundown train station appeared in the distance. Her train was already waiting on the tracks. “Crud,” she swore as she willed her legs to go faster. Her backpack slammed against her with only a change of clothes, a water bottle, and $20,000 in cash inside. She had asked the Committee for a direct deposit, but they claimed it wouldn't help. They couldn’t provide her a security escort either. They stopped providing that service to Lottery winners since thieves could still find her “no matter what.” So here she was.

She slowed down to a walk as she neared the waiting train. She fixed her clothes and ran her hands through her hair. She wished she had brought a mirror. A wild-eyed girl in a coat taking a night train by herself must look suspicious. At least her home was only a few hours away. Three hours and 20 minutes to be exact.

She sighed and approached the train door. In a total of six years she had never visited home. It wouldn’t have been a difficult undertaking. She only needed to take this single train, but she never got time off. None of the Workers ever got time off. This wasn’t her fault, but she still felt guilty telling her mother she couldn't come home. Her mother eventually stopped asking. The girl wished she hadn’t.

She entered the train and her eyes swept through the rows of seats. It was empty like she had hoped. She inserted her money into the ticket machine and dropped into the nearest seat. For at least the next few hours, she would be safe. She closed her eyes, but as the train car rumbled awake she knew she couldn’t sleep.

From the moment she won the Annual Lottery she knew she had to leave as soon as possible. Everybody knew leaving was a part of winning. It put an instant target on your back.

Still, she couldn’t believe she had actually won the Lottery. So many workers spent their lives waiting to win, imagining the day they got to leave and go home for good. Most workers never got that happy ending, and she was sure she would be no different. One simply didn’t win the Lottery.

Some people claimed only friends of the Committee had a chance of winning. But she didn’t have any connections to the Committee. She had never even seen them. She worked in the lower levels, and the Committee only inspected the upper levels. Either the rumors were false, or once in a while they’d throw the dogs a bone. This year she happened to be the lucky dog, and she was more than willing to fight for her bone. Besides, she wasn’t going to be the main beneficiary of this money. She was going to give it all to her mother and baby brother.

Of course, it had been six years since she last saw them. He wasn’t a baby anymore. She could tell from the pictures her mother sent that he was growing up to look like their father. The girl would send pictures of herself back and implored her mother to make sure he remembered her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him forgetting her. If he forgot her, then she knew for a fact she was never coming home. If he forgot her, she wasn’t a part of his story anymore.

Except she was coming home. She was going to see them again, and she was going to hug them for as long as she wanted. She was also going to read to him every single night. She wanted to make up for lost time, and she had loved story time when she was a little girl. Her mother would make up stories to get her to sleep, and made sure they always had a happy ending. She said it was because real life had enough sad endings to go around. The girl used to tease her mother for being corny, but she always loved hearing them.

Her mother would include her latest story in the letters she sent her. On particularly hard nights she would read them until she fell asleep. For a few minutes she would feel safe again, and happy, and hopeful. Those feelings were foreign to her nowadays.

At that thought she pulled her most prized possession from inside her coat. It was a small black notebook. She managed to find it in the dregs of the Store’s stationery aisle. It was like a diary, her private place to unwind and maintain her sanity. It only had a few pages left, and its elastic band could barely close it anymore. She had stuffed it with the letters she received from her mother. They were her only clues to their well-being.

She didn't know how they were holding up as of late. The last thing her mother wrote was that they had gone to the store to stock up for the winter. But with the rising prices she couldn’t afford to send another letter for months. The girl received that letter three months ago.

Three months can do a number on anyone. What if they weren’t as okay as her mother had insisted? What if they didn’t have the house anymore? What if they were starving? What if…?

She shook her head. She didn't make it this far to worry about things she didn't know. They were probably fine. If anything was amiss, she would let her future self deal with it.

She looked out the window and thought about how she was going to use the money. She used to dream of going on the most extravagant vacations, eating the most delicious of feasts, and wearing the most expensive clothes. But now that she had the money she didn’t think about any of that. Instead she planned to hand it over to her mother. Her mother always knew how to stretch a penny. Now with $20,000 the three of them could finally live, and not just survive.

But should she buy something for herself? She had won the money by herself after all.

It seemed like such a ridiculous question. She was going home. It was what she had worked all these years for. What else could she want?

She flipped to the end of her notebook and ran her hand along the smooth pages. She wished she had brought a pen to write a final entry. Every notebook deserves a dignified ending. She smiled to herself. She knew what her first buy would be: a new notebook. Once you finish one, you start the next one. After all, once you finish a story, you start writing the next. As her mother would say, they were on the cusp of a new story. They just had to write it down to make it last. Her mother could be so corny sometimes. The girl missed her so much she could cry.

The sun peeked through the horizon as the train came to a halt. Hazy orange light covered the barren farmland around the train stop. Most of the land had wasted away years ago. The people left behind figured out how to use up every last bit of soil, leaving behind nothing but useless dirt.

The cab ride home was quiet. The town had replaced the cab service with driverless cars. She was instinctively wary of the software controlling the car. They used a similar technology at Work. Despite the Committee’s claims, it never seemed to make their jobs any easier. She looked out the window as empty farm after empty farm passed by. What was once abundant farmland could barely produce weeds and dandelions nowadays.

When she got out of the cab and stepped onto her front porch she felt as if she traveled through time. It was as if the last six years had never happened. The house looked like it always had. It was as rundown then as it was now. She couldn’t believe how nervous she felt. Her stomach was waging war against itself, and her counted breaths—in and out—couldn’t calm her racing heart.

She hadn’t planned out what she’d say to them. She thought the words would come to her, but in the moment she couldn’t find any. She knocked on the door before she could stop herself.

After a few moments the door opened. Her now gray-haired mother froze in shock. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. They stood there in silence for what felt like ages. The girl still couldn’t speak. She was too overwhelmed. Instead she flipped over her backpack, unzipped it, and revealed the $20,000. Her mother’s eyes widened with surprise. She understood.

A sudden pitter patter of footsteps came racing down the stairs. A small boy walked up to her mother’s side. Her brother had grown so much in six years, but his big brown eyes remained the same.

The girl crouched down to meet his gaze. She searched his eyes to see if he recognized her. Even in the silence she could tell he did. “Hey sweetie,” her voice croaked. It had been days since she used her voice at full volume. She cleared her throat. “I really missed you.” She reached her hand out to take his, but let it hang in the space between them. She wanted to see if he would close the gap. She smiled at him. He took a step forward. And then

The Writer drummed their fingers over their keyboard. They reread their words, but couldn’t come up with anything to add. They began to exit out of their document when an Editor ran up to them.

“Hey now! I’m sure you’re not finished quite yet?”

“I’m not, but I can’t figure out how to end it. I’m not sure which direction to take it now.”

“Well, let me take a crack at it.”

The Editor looked over the document. After a few minutes they nodded.

“Well, you could let her hug the little boy, surely?”

“Sure I can, but then what?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Let them be happy. At least for a little while.”

“That doesn’t sound very exciting to me."

“Well come now, they have to have happy endings sometimes. You know, throw a dog a bone.”

“Sure, sure, but something doesn’t feel right to me. Maybe I should just scrap it—”

“No! You’ve already made it this far. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Unfair to who?”

“Well, to them.”

“Well, life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m familiar with the phrase. But why not allow a happy ending for now? It won’t hurt you too much.”

“It’s not that. It’s that you can’t give happy endings to anyone and everyone. It would make it cheaper.”

“I wouldn’t say happiness is cheap just because we don’t allow it to happen around here every now and again!”

The Writer turned up to look at the Editor and smiled.

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

The Editor straightened up and huffed. “That wouldn’t make me any less right.”

The Writer chuckled. “No, it wouldn’t.”