This is an ending to "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas", a short story by Ursula K. Le Guin. 

Omelas is a utopian city where the people lead lives that are happy, in the best sense of the word. On the day on which the narrator is focusing, the city’s people are celebrating the summer festival. The children ride willing horses in races and race about the fields in their bare feet. The day is bright and clear, music of all kinds fills the air, bells ring, and the air itself is sweet.

The narrator is conscious of the fact that the idea of happiness, and in particular the happiness of an entire city, may be a suspect concept to others. Happiness implies a kind of innocence and foolishness and lacks the complexities that are most often attributed to pain and evil impulses. However, the narrator insists that the people of Omelas lead complex lives.

The people may lack certain things that others have, but they do not feel that lack as a deprivation. These people have come to an understanding of what is necessary, what is destructive, and what is both or neither. Those things that are necessary, they have. Those luxuries that are neither necessary nor destructive, they also have. Omelas is a joyful city inhabited by mature, intelligent, passionate adults. Their lives are not wretched, nor are they puritanical.

This picture of Omelas is not the whole story. There is something that makes the city special in another way. The city has a guarantee of happiness; it has struck a bargain, although how and with whom it is not clear. The bargain is this: In a room under the city is a stunted, frightened, half-starved child, and everyone over adolescence in Omelas knows that the child is there. The child is locked in a closet and shown off to those who wish to see it. It is fed half a bowl of cornmeal mush a day and is left to sit, naked, in dirt and its own excrement. The child barely talks, except for a bit of whining gibberish and a plea, heard less and less often, to be let out. No one is allowed to speak even a kind word to the child, and no one stays with it long.

If the child were rescued from its cell-like closet, the whole of the city of Omelas would falter. The city’s great happiness, its splendors and health, its architecture, music, and science, all are dependent on the misery of this one child. The Omelas people know that if the child were released, then the possible happiness of the degraded child—and it is only possible, not probable—would be set against the sure failure of the happiness of the many. Thus, the people have been taught compassion and the terrible reality of justice, and on this they base their lives.

Inexplicably, there are some young people, and sometimes even an adult, who, shortly after viewing the child, leave Omelas through its gates and head into the mountains. They do not return.- enotes.com

Thanks to Ursula to inspiring me to create this and to Terri Grimes, my AP Literature Composition teacher, who taught me what it meant to be a writer. 

I am not like the others.

These observations disturb me.

They are not right.

They are not constructive.

They are sick and twisted.

On June 12, all citizens of Omelas are required to partake in the Annual Observation Day. This day is a reminder of why our humble town is so happy and how we are able to provide for our home, Omelas. Everyone gathers in the town square at the blowing of the whistle. They are sorted into lines by gender and age and must check in with the Record Takers who check attendance for all events and keep record of strikes of individuals. After two strikes you are sent out of the gates. Once you leave the gates, you never come back. The Record Takers scan the people’s wrists where their family symbol is tattooed on their wrists in white ink. This tattoo is given at age two so that any infant who were to die of any sudden death or illness would not be required to be sunk on the Lake of Insurgence, where all people are sent after death. This final farewell is required for all who have the white tattoo. These infants who die are often sent away outside the gates with the Gate Keepers who protect Omelas from outside the gates. 

    The Gate Keepers, who are dressed in their protective suits and carry large tranquilizer weapons, ensure that all stays calm, and that anyone who walks out of the gate is not to return. The Chief can usually be spotted in his emerald protective suit on this day ensuring all Gate Keepers are carrying out their duties properly.

    After being scanned into the square, everyone is shuffled into the middle of the town square where a large stage is set up with a tall projection screen assembled behind. Leader Morte sits in the Chair of Destino, which is woven out of golden arrows used by the leaders of the Insurgent Army during the War of Reformation. As more people gather, everyone remains silent as a sign of respect for the fallen heroes of the Insurgent Army during the War of Reformation. Once everyone is standing in the square, Morte stands up and begins to explain the Chair of Destino and how Leader Insorto stormed the town with the Insurgent Army and destroyed all evil and harm during the War of Reformation. At this point all the children are excused and take part in the fair activities that follow Observation Day. Leader Morte then explains how one individual must sacrifice their innocence and swallow the pain and sorrow for the sake of Omelas. 

    To ensure that the innocence of this person is not soiled, a child is always chosen. This child is referred to as the Crestfallen Gallant. Crestfallen Gallants can be chosen a number of ways. Families who produce more children than the three child limit may give up their child before age two when the white tattoo is given or take a strike. Any family who wants to reduce a strike can also promise to produce a Crestfallen Gallant but if they don't, the family is given a second strike, resulting in expulsion from Omelas. Widows with infants must give the child up before being remarried. The Chief Gates Keeper is given the future Crestfallen Gallant to watch until he or she is able to understand the importance of their title.

    After Leader Morte explains all this, the screen behind the stage plays a slideshow with pictures of all the past Crestfallen Gallants. An instrumental piece plays over the town’s speaker system. Then a line is formed as Gate Keepers usher small groups down to the Ferrous Corral, where the Crestfallen Gallant is kept. Small groups are allowed in at a time.

    My group is ushered in and I can’t believe my very eyes. The room has zero light so it takes some time for my eyes to adjust. In my group is Marcutio Divertido, Ophelia Gratis, Timothy Faulkner, and Octavia Lewis. I go to school with all these people and we all quietly socialize how excited we are for our first observation. They seem to be so anxious, as if it is their birthday, but I am apprehensive. I never could wrap my mind around the fact that a whole child is purposely wasted into oblivion.

    Once we reach the bottom of the staircase I reach my hands out in front of me, feeling for obstacles. I touch the wall and it is cold. How could anyone survive in this? After I get use to the poor lighting, I examine the room. It has no color or light. There is no sound. There is a long hallway with a door at the end that can be faintly seen.

“Wait here.”, a Gate Keeper says in a low, ridged, intimidating voice as our group approaches the door. I feel a wave of chills roll through my body and I begin to shake. This is not right. This is not okay. Why should a whole society rely on the misery of one human in order to carry out their daily lives? 

    A group of people come out of the door. One has white, wispy hair and a wrinkled face. She is slumped over and is clutching a wooden cane with some sort of detail on it that can’t be seen due to the poor lighting of the hallway. A younger female has her hand on the back of the woman. She has long, dark hair that seems to be a bit of a mess. Two boys close to my age follow who have smirks on their faces look at each other as they walk out the door. I suddenly recognize that they are Peter and Zachary Lowe, the two twins who live a few houses down. Finally a man in his mid-forties walks out with his head drooped down and his arms cross. He does not look at anything but his feet as they swiftly shuffle towards the staircase. A Gate Keeper follows them out of the door. He looks at us and says, “It is time for your observation.” We follow him into the next room and the Gate Keeper outside the room shuts the door.

    “I hope this kid looks screwed up.”, Marcutio says with a devilish grin vacating his already microscopic face. He looks like a psychopath with mastichistic intentions.

I slowly step one foot at a time in the room hoping I don't step on anything or anyone. I am not in any hurry to get into this wretched room. I stay as close to the door as I can, as I am afraid of being attacked. On the contrary, Marcutio gets no less than three feet away from the child’s face and takes a big whiff as he observes the area. However, I am close enough to see that the child’s face is very dirty with splotches distributed on the checks and forehead of the child. I take a look down at the concrete floor just to see how dirty it truly is. I look back at the child to see the matted hair that is on top of the head. The child is of course exposed but is curled up in a corner in a fashion where the gender is unidentifiable. Ophelia is petrified of how dirty the room is, Timothy couldn't care less about the whole situation, and Octavia just keeps studying her hands and comparing them to the child’s. I do the same. The child’s hands are slender and bony. I can clearly see all knuckles in the child’s hands. I glance at the child’s core which seems to be very slender as well. Ribs are showing and pelvic bones can accurately be seen. The child is very weak and slow. The room smells of stale litter box and horse stalls.

    “The observation is now complete.”, the Gate Keeper says in the same godly, thundering tone as before as we all uncomfortably look at each other wondering how much longer we have to stay here. All of us are ready except for Marcutio who is still continuing to marvel over this poor creature.

    “My father said I can revisit anytime. Is this true?”, Marcutio says. I can't stand to talk to him, let alone be in the same room as him. Every time I am near this idiot I can feel my brain cells begin to rot one-by-one.

    “Yes, visiting hours at the Corral are 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.," the Gate Keeper responds as he opens the door for us to walk out of the room. I try to escape as quickly as possible.

    It is said that some of the people who view this wretched scene become befuddled and often fall silent for a period and then walk out of the gates. I could always understand why. There is something incorrect with how Omelas is ran. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach and it nauseates me.