Black

All the ladies in the town wore black if they knew what was good for them. It made no difference that it was one-hundred-and-twelve degrees in the shade on a daily basis; we wore black relentlessly. Black undies, black bra, black dress, black hose, black shoes, black hat, topped off with black shades to keep out the brightest of the sunshine. No one dared to wear any other color outside of their home. The Fashion Police had decreed that black was the color, and they patrolled the city regularly. It wasn't even possible to purchase any other colors within the city limits; those who traveled had their cars searched, just to make sure that no vibrant blues or electric reds made their way into the system. 

Those who bucked the Color decree, even in a minor, accessorizing way, were arrested for random, hastily invented, violations, and there were horror stories about what happened to women who had been taken into custody. Poor Mandy Jenkins was seen walking to the bank wearing nude hose instead of black last Thursday, for instance, and was arrested.  When she was released this morning, her husband immediately took her to the emergency room to try and repair the damage. They are not sure if she will lose the eye, but she was lucky.  Some violators are never seen again. Geraldine Sampson and her sparkly purple Halloween hose. Janine Espinoza and her disgracefully hideous rainbow hat.  Melba Fisher and her bright red spectator pumps.  We all whispered about those women, when we gossiped over the fence or met for tea.  No bodies had ever been found, and some of us wanted desperately to believe that the abducted women were safe.

Where would it all end?