scroll bar by @mallo222 modified by me https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/456301918 wonderful city It was a wonderful city. The sun rose every morning with gorgeous colors of pink, yellow, and orange. Cornflowers bloomed on every block, and bees buzzed between them. From any street corner you could hear the sound of laughter and music that played long into the night. There was only beauty. Occasionally the laughter was broken by the sound of weeping, but it, too, was beautiful. I did not live in the city. We were only visitors. But the city told me that I was its favorite. I grew very acquainted with the city. I spent all of my time there and could name every street and shop. Slowly, I began to notice little things about the city that I had not seen before. There were no houses, I realized. There were no families. I had seen children, but they were always about with other children, never their parents. One day I decided to follow a performer home from her stage, to see where the citizens slept. She made her way down the streets, toward the sunset. She stopped when she came to a wall. I had never noticed this wall before, even in all my time in the city. It loomed far above and blocked out the unfailingly beautiful sunset. It was sturdy and resolute, and plastered all over the wall were signs that read NO VISITORS ALLOWED. In my time studying the wall, the singer had slipped out of view, now on the other side. I could tell I was not welcome here, close to something I was not supposed to see. From then on, the wall always loomed. It stood tall and watched, making sure none came up to it. The city was still ever beautiful, but slightly dimmer now, the sun trapped behind the wall. The cornflowers’ blue was harder to make out. The laughter was more forced, the singing more strained. I wondered if the city was changing, or if it had always been this way. The wall was clearly not a new addition. Looking back, I could remember that it had always been there. I just never noticed. It was as if the inhabitants were pretending the wall wasn't there for the sake of the visitors. I had to admit that it had worked on me for a long while. The other visitors didn’t seem to have noticed it yet, or were acting like they hadn't. My love for the city still only grew. I still visited as often as I could, and the city still assured me that I was its absolute favorite, that it would never deceive me, that I belonged. There was nowhere in the city that I could not go. Except behind that wall. The city knew that there was nothing that could change my love. No building it could erect, no secret that it could hold. But I still wasn’t allowed past the wall. Nobody in the city talked of its existence. I never brought it up. It was like it wasn't even there. But it was. A few weeks later, there was a disturbance in the city: dancers were too tired to twirl, painters drew sharp lines instead of their usual curves. There had been events like this before, but this one was particularly upsetting. I asked a baker if she was okay; she had burnt her entire batch. She said she was. I asked what was wrong; with a frown on her face, she said there was nothing wrong at all. I let it go. As I went to leave the bakery, a fellow visitor came in and asked the same questions. She told the visitor to follow her. I didn’t have to spy to know where they were going, but I did anyway. As they walked up, a portion of the wall slid open to reveal a secret entrance into which they disappeared. After a moment I realized that it was still open. I could slip in behind them; this was my chance! But I stayed. I wasn’t welcome inside the wall, and I didn't want to be thrown out of the city for overstepping where I clearly wasn't allowed. So I watched as the wall slid back into place, leaving no sign that it was able to open at all. They weren’t gone for long; maybe five minutes. They exited, and soon everything was normal again: the strained singing resumed and the beauty continued. But again, it was duller. I was beginning to grow pale from the lack of sunlight. The flowers crumbled the second I picked them. The wall was dampening the beauty. If only it weren’t there to block out the sun and impede on the wonderful city.
