Change of Heart

Yes, I am about to get political. The muse still seems to be sleeping. If you want more writing posts, go buy my books so I can make that my way of supporting myself. Until then, you get mad rantings on things that annoy me. Well, occasionally things that make me happy. I'm a writer though, so how often is that going to happen?

So, I have been thinking about this a great deal recently. For me it is about freedom, and free speech. For many other people it is about so much more. I think it is sad that so many people have co-opted the narrative for their personal reasons and gains. So, let's ignore my personal pet cause for the moment shall we? Let's look past free speech and look to freedom and justice instead. I think those are really important things as well.

Last year, Colin Kaepernick was taking a knee during the National Anthem for a cause he believed in. I supported him, if for no other reason than because I love a good protest. Damn the man. Many fans hated him, and the NFL gave him the kiss of death. They ignored him, and then, when he was cut, they silently let his career die. For what crime? For protesting police violence and racial injustice in the United States.

Now, whether you agree with what he was saying or not, the fact is he has the right to protest. It's right there in the first amendment of the damn Constitution. Yeah, rule one has taken a beating over the last couple of years, and maybe I'll rant about that later, but let's just say it's there. There are people who say, but it's at work, so that doesn't apply. Okay, I might agree with you if it weren't for one thing. The NFL has a monopoly, so they don't get to pull the same shit that other companies do. Other companies can do that. But since they are breaking a big rule, and the government is ignoring it, like they shouldn't, they don't get to suppress the rights of their employees. But, not the point. Big point? He wasn't protesting for free speech. He was saying, hey cops! Stop killing people. Stop killing my people. Got it? That's what it was.

So, fast forward a year. Dear old Colin can't find a team, and the President is hurling insults at football, and everyone is surprised. Now all of a sudden everyone is taking a knee, or a lot of them. The NFL is suddenly okay with it, and it's all about free speech. As one commentator mentioned, only one team seems to remember what this protest was actually about. A couple of the players do, but only one team does. There is still an argument, but the league is suddenly okay with the protests. Nobody is being fired or fined. Now it's okay.

Why the reversal?

Good question.

Because they are following an old rule.

If you don't like what they are saying, change the conversation.

That's what they did. See, the NFL is okay with division, but they want to pretend that they are unified with the people and the players, against Trump. They aren't. They want you, they want us, divided.

The NFL is okay with this controversy over free speech. They don't mind being on the wrong side of that. They are okay with an argument of black versus white. They don't even mind being on the wrong side of that. They have conned you. Even though they don't care about a race argument, they turned this into the safest argument for them. They made this about the National Anthem. Which it never was! So now they are okay with the protests.

So, why weren't they okay with Kaepernick's original protests? Because it was a half step from an argument that was dangerous for them. He was talking about the police brutalizing and killing people. He was talking about a certain group of people. So that argument was divisive, yes, but a lot of white folks were getting on board. Okay, they might have been able to tolerate that. But if that gained steam, how long before the conversation became this.

You know, it's funny. There seem to be a lot of militarized police running around that are hurting average citizens, a lot of whom aren't white, all of them seem to be of moderate to low income. While there are a large number of good cops out there, the ones that are doing the bad stuff all seem to have really heavy grade hardware and are serving the interests of the corporate elite rather than the common people. It's almost like there is a connection between the tanks at Standing Rock, the dead man in New York who was selling product that big tobacco has a monopoly on, and all of this other stuff going on.

The current protests are about something that has nothing to do with them. Kaepernick's protest was one step or less from drawing attention to an issue they are a huge part of. They are rich, so the militarization of the police does nothing but benefit them. They love that they are allowed a monopoly that goes against the laws of this country. They love that as a corporation they are allowed to dump money into politics unchecked. Kaepernick, as one man, threatened them. His protest was real. This current slew of protests distracts you from them. They are bullshit. I love free speech. I love the First Amendment. They are things I stand for, above all else. Because of that, it offends me that they are being used to distract you from a different cause.

Whether you believe in that cause or not, start paying attention to it. Argue about it. Decide what needs to be done about that. We can argue free speech another time. You are being herded and it is time to break out of the pen, my friends. We have to stop falling for this. Because this division is killing us. We are not each other's enemy.

Get united.

#politics #commentary #taketheknee

Writing Sample - Long Time No Anything

So, I have been posting this around and realized that I haven't posted here in forever. Work has eaten my writing! I think this belongs in my current work in progress, or one of them.

I know you want me to shut up. I know how much you want me to stop talking about how we have lost our freedom, how our government has been stolen, about our murdered liberty, and our violated and beaten rights. I know you want me to stop telling you about the corporations and men in power raped Lady Liberty then left her discarded, like a Muslim immigrant, on the Boston shore amongst the refuse, contaminated syringes, discarded condoms, and used packets of lightly sweetened, freedom flavored tea her only company. You're not alone.

Everyone wants to silence me, begs me to put the gag in. You scream in a voice that echoes with their's. The two groups scramble over each other to burn the first amendment. I don't know who's worse, the ones telling me to shut up and check my privilege. Screaming at me to be silent, to let the victims speak. To stay out of the conversation and just let it play out, to nod along encouragingly while others write the world, to watch without condemning or condoning. On the other side stand those that shout in my ear that it is in my best interest to be still. They want me to just watch as others are oppressed and enslaved. Just keep calm and let us put them back in check. It's not your concern, after all, they tell me. You're nothing like them. Just hush, go back to sleep and let us do our work. Stay where you are and you'll be safe.

What nobody wants, is for me to speak. No. None of you want me to talk about the truth I see. You don't want the uncomfortable visions of a freed mind. No matter what side they're on, hell, no matter what side you're on, there is one thing you want. You want me to sit on the couch, staring into the television. You want me to watch the stars and wait for the end of the world, with a Xanax smile, just like everyone else.

I just can't do it. I'm too busy weeping for all of you that can.

#writingsample #amwriting #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #author #writer #writing #shamelessselfpromotion

Rich Man's Shoes

When I lived a life of hate, they loved me.

Always ready with their sharp toothed smiles. I laughed, with just a hint of shame, every time those green scaled monsters bit those better off than I.  Until one day I decided to remove the negative from my life. Swimming, peacefully, with alligators made me decide I should try to do the same with my fellow humans.

There were moments, in my time as the alligator whisperer, when the beasts responded to my desires and attacked the objects of my hate. Other than the press conferences and the shows, people left me alone. They knew something was off. Maybe not how I hated them, but they knew I wanted their distance.

After the guru time, everything is different. Time on the talk show circuit and getting to know my fans. I smile now, instead of spreading my lips and showing my teeth. Now they cheer when I enter the arena.

It is my first time back with my big green friends and they seem happy to see me. The roar of the audience startles  them like it always has. Today though, they swish and sway, agitating, just like a washing machine.

I wave to my adoring public one last time before stepping through the gate. Something is wrong here. I know more about these creatures than any other scientist alive. I also have the balls to step in with them when the others stick to the lab. That's an old me thought. I let it go. The gators aren't happy to see me. No matter how well they pretend otherwise.

They know the act, they swim away from me. Their eyes hunt the audience for prey. They seek those I would gladly have fed to them a month ago. I do not point though, I let them find their own path. Part of knowing your course is leaving everyone to discover theirs. Even our animal friends.

With no enemy to destroy on my command they turn and look back at me.

For a moment it seems like the old act, but I read more in their eyes. I am weak. They know it. I left the path. Hate was never something I wanted in my heart, but when it was there it created a bond. Now, they need a new leader. In the savage way of the swamp, there is only one way to pick a new alpha.

While the old one is alive.

Especially when he has betrayed the cause.

I hear the screams, the horror, the terror. I am at peace though. This is the wild, the way it should be. One sacrifice for mankind. One noble act for all to see, witness the nature of these creatures I know so well.

I learn another lesson. One wise men have known for centuries. When one is free they feel no fear. Not even at the end of a weapon.

When I turn to a life of love, they hate me.

#shortstory #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #author #writer #writing

Character Letter

So, this week's prompt was to write a letter to me from the MC of my novel. Oh my.

So, this is written by the main character in Eater of the Damned, the novel I'm currently editing. It's a story in first person, so this was mostly easy.However, normally I try not to swear much on here, but Brother Book is very foul mouthed, so I'm sorry but this is actually toned down. Children and those with souls sensitive to vulgarity should give this one a pass.

Hey Asshole,

I have always been a religious man. My faith in God has gotten me through times darker than a normal man could survive. Now I find out that I'm just your mouthpiece in a rage fit against writers with an obsessive love of monsters and apologism for evil. You are the God of my world, the thing I have knelt and prayed to. You? Do you know how disappointing it is to find out that my creator is someone like you?

To know the hell I live in was written by a self published writer with less than a five hundred sales between six books? The moment I found that out is the very definition of a long dark teatime of... hold on. Someone's at the door. I'll come back and continue to tell you how you fail as a god.

Okay, seriously? What's with that shit? It was a bit of a workout but... you made me the best hunter to ever live in any world and you think a vampire is going to shut me up? This just proves what I was saying about you. I mean, you have moments, some decent prose, but is it any wonder you're still destitute and having to resort to a day job to make ends meet? I mean, if I had to do that... I don't know what I'd do. But I sure as shit couldn't look at myself in the mirror in the morning. What an asshole.

Oh, God! What the hell are you doing to me? Riley just walked in and started vomiting blood on the carpet. Why would you do this you sadistic bastard? Do you think it will make me take back the shit I've said? No, no, NO!!! I won't. You love that girl as much as I do, it's why you wrote her so sexy in the first place isn't it? You fucking pervert. You won't kill her and you've already made her suffer enough. So, no, not going to get me to apologize.

Ha ha, the shooting pain in my left arm isn't going to get what you want either. You can stop with the constrictions in my chest though. They're really annoying. You're getting nothing out of me. Why would cause me this much pain though? You're supposed to be a decent person. Okay, pain gone but I have a sudden urge to watch television for a moment.

Okay, you sick, sadistic fuck! How could you even think of such a thing? Are you serious? I am at home with pain, death, terror and horror but there are some things even I can't take. Kill my girl, hurt me and steal my life. Fine, I can get past that... but this is too damn much. Fine! You win. Edit my world so Trump was not elected president I'll admit you're not so bad. It's not much but it's the best I can do.

Dick.

Rot in hell you bastard,
Frank Book

#shortstory #author #Awethors #politicalcommentary #writer #writing #writingprompt

It's Not the Guns

So, one of the things I have always said about writers is that we either write the world we want to see, to help people get there, or the one we are terrified we are headed towards, to help people avoid it. I'm one that does the latter. I believe avoiding that dark place we are blindly walking towards involves understanding what is wrong, and more importantly the causes behind it. The ignorance I see right now is amazing. I should warn some of my friends, you aren't going to like what I have to say here, and I'm okay with that.

So, one of the things I keep seeing everyone up in arms over is the mass shootings that the States are known for. I'm fairly certain that everyone agrees, the wholesale slaughter of innocent people is a problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure there are some people out there willing to say it helps with population control and makes the country great again. And yet I'm going to pretend those people don't exist and ask you to allow me this delusion, as me having it does nothing to harm you. Unlike the big one that some of you have.

The point being, we can all agree there is a problem. Many of you want to take the easy route instead of fixing this problem though. That shit is starting to get to me. How intelligent, compassionate, and loving people can miss the point. How people I know and respect, people I have seen show a willingness to fight for what is right now matter how hard it is, can look past the long road to making things better and want to skip to the end. An end that will, inevitably, bring us right back to this place, or one very much like it.

The easy route is is blaming the guns. We've all done something like this in our lives, but in a case like this we need to take a good hard look at reality. I'm going to ignore the insanity behind why people want to ban guns. I'm even going to skip the part about real solutions the gun control issues, and the simplest solutions to them. I'm even going to pretend that the arguments about how the government has us outgunned makes the second amendment useless might make sense. I might talk about some of that stuff later on, but it's not really the point here. Though, bring up the outgunned thing is kind ironic.

Now, I do have to briefly point out that the problem is not that people have guns. It's not that they have tons of ammunition. The problem isn't the weapons. It's the willingness to use them. It's the fact that we ignore people who are mentally ill and/or in pain. We are so obsessed with keeping our heads down and getting the work done, fitting in and not making waves that we don't notice when people are ready to snap. We can't notice those things, because it just looks like someone going through the same things we are. It makes my heart ache that we have given up our will to greatness, the driving passion that pushed us to be something special. Mediocrity is our call word, apathy our shield. In this world we create, this place where excellence is feared instead of chased, is it any wonder that people snap? In a country where we ignore each other, can we blame ourselves for missing the signs of a damaged mind ready to rampage?

Well, yes. There are important things there that need to be discussed too. Things like, how do we fix that problem? How do we help the people in need it so they stop killing our children? How can we become a people that both want more and willingly love again? However, they are also not the point of this diatribe. They are the middle of this long path, and we (or I, with you as my hostage) are interested in the beginning. We need the first steps to get moving on this journey.

The first step is, as always, understanding. So what is it we need to know? What is there to be seen that we are blind to?

The thing that I am best at, if one discounts writing, is management. By that I mean the managing of people, not the made up field of managing projects. There are certain philosophies, ideas, and truths that one learns in doing this. Only one of them is important here, but it is a big one. The best and easiest way to get your employees to do what you want is to model that behavior. That works because people will emulate the actions and personalities of their leaders. So, you treat your employees like you want them to treat the customers, because they will. Some will resist it, and all will modify it to fit their personality and style, but it means your company treats people the way that you treat people.

Now think about that in relation to a country. To our country. To this particular issue.

I just heard a bunch of you go, 'Aha!'

For the rest of you, let me explain...

We have these two huge problems in this country. where violence is concerned, right now. One, as mentioned, is people picking up weapons and brutally killing large groups of other people. Everyone knows this is a bad thing and that it needs to be stopped. A large number of people have no answer, for the same reason that another large group of people say, let's ban guns (which is just plain stupid). The answer is hard. Not looking for an answer is easy, but does nothing. Banning guns is easy, but does nothing to fix the problem. Machiavelli said it a long time ago, the only reason for a government to take weapons from the people is if that government has more reason to fear its people than its enemies. Only if the rulers are oppressing their citizens do they ever want them disarmed. Think about that, but realize it's another tangent. I've already mentioned some of the simpler things, like getting people the help they need and making people feel connected. Those things will help, and they are important but they are not the cure to this problem. They are things we need to do if we want to be good human beings. First we need to stop killing each other long enough to get there.

The second dilemma is the willingness of some cops to start shooting for no reason, or ones that are not good enough. So, this happens and we once again focus on the wrong things. We look at white cops shooting minorities. We talk about cameras so we can be sure to know what the cops are doing. Sometimes we make excuses, or we ignore legitimate reasons. So, what is the one thing we don't focus on? How someone in a position of authority and trust betrayed that position and killed someone they were supposed to be protecting. We don't look at how there is almost always another, better way to deal with the problem. We focus on that one issue. Again, these are things we can talk about another time though. What we need to see now is, why is it happening?

Are the two related?

You bet your ass they are. Not in the way most will think though. One is not the cause of the other. People are not committing larger and larger mass murders because some cops are out of control. Some of the police ordered to protect us are not betraying that trust because maniacs are running around and killing people in wholesale slaughters normally seen only in horror movies. They are related because they are the same type of actions, caused by the same stimuli.

If you want to see where it all starts you simply have to look at our managers, our handlers, and our culture of war.

It can be argued that once upon a time our country entered wars with good intentions, to save the world. It can even be argued that we continued to have good intentions after we started to become bullies. I honestly believe we entered Vietnam with the best intentions. We didn't think it through, and those ideals weren't pure anymore, but the intentions were good. I don't know, maybe they still are today, but we have to look at what we actually do, no matter what we mean to.

Our leaders take us into wars with much weaker nations. We take tanks, bombs, planes and computers and we beat the hell out of places that are trying to fight against us with sticks. I'm not saying some of these place don't hate us and want us dead, I'm saying they don't have the firepower to make it happen. I am saying that if we tried to talk to them they would have no choice but to meet us at the table. Because they don't stand a damn chance against us in battle. That doesn't stop us though, and we so rarely take the peaceful route. Instead we attack, mercilessly and brutally and don't stop until the enemy is dead.

So we choose targets that are weak. We also choose targets that are opposed to us in some moral way that not everybody can understand. We get it, or at least our leaders do. We cloak this in "protecting our way of life." I don't know what the hell we're protecting it from. Those guys armed with rocks and insanity aren't all that scary, but I digress.

Lastly, we attack in a very public fashion. We do it to make our point. When we get called out on it we don't offer any apologies. We just expect to be understood, because, damn it, we're right and we have God on our side. Those idiots that don't get it can go to hell.

Our leaders, our managers, our caretakers approach war in this way.

Sound like anything else we've been discussing?

Cops shooting unarmed people in the street. Saying they felt their life was in danger. Making a public display of what happens to those who oppose their authority. Never once apologizing for the terror this causes in the populace. Saying it's okay, because these people were a threat to decent people everywhere.

Citizens targeting building full of folks that have different agendas than them, often different religions. Taking weapons and slaughtering those who have none, often those who just wish to be peaceful. Choosing targets that will make national news, even if their mass slaughter would not have on its own. Never offering an apology, expecting the true believers to understand. Often times making themselves into martyrs for a cause they think others will just get but only they really understand. Leaving devastation and horror in their wake.

What does this sound like? Both situations, what do we see in common with what we do as a country? This isn't new. This is life in America. This is us following the example set for us by those who govern us. Which leads me back to the point...

It's not the guns.

Maybe it's time we stopped blaming them and thinking we can solve the problem by getting rid of the one thing we have that we can use to defend ourselves. Maybe it's time we look at the leaders giving us our examples and realize we should replace them, instead of giving up our rights.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time we stood up and started making good, and well informed, decisions.

Reflexion

I swallow the bitter liquid and close my eyes. I wonder if my love has downed her own remedy. Sheets of lightning course through the space between my eyes and their lids. I have finally captured it inside of my body.  I inhale one of the last few breaths I will take. The stale smell of stagnant air offends my nose, but there are worse scents. At least it is not the odor of the showers.

The light fades in a pulsing blue flash and I am terrified to open my eyes. I know there is no other world, no paradise of the sheep or punishment of the wicked. Still, for a moment my heart trembles. Now I smell air that moves, it is not trapped but filled with the stink of too many people. Before I look I take stock of my body and the space around me.

I am taller, that is wonderful. I am thicker but not fatter, this is good. My scalp feels colder though, my hair must be thinner. That is less good. It is almost time to open my eyes. First I grip the podium in front of me. I am making a speech then, this is normal. Expectant sheep murmur, not violent approval and agreement. Have I arrived in England? These are not my people. The crowd stinks like mongrels and culture destroyers.

No more time to waste. I feel eyes upon me, they are waiting for my answer, so they must have asked me a question. I open my eyes and things look so different I know I am in either the future or the past. A quick look to the camera reflecting my image and I know it is the future. That is acceptable, I have always adapted quickly. I see in this image that while my hair is thinning it is the right color, and so are my eyes. This trip has turned me into one of the master race I love so much.

The people though. They are sickening; overfed, weak, imperfect. For all of that there is anger there, a willingness to shed blood, the ability to go to war for no reason beyond being disillusioned. They are my people. My first people were no better when I swayed them. The leaders of the sheep, those at the table, look at me expectantly. I cannot ask them to repeat the question. That would be weakness.

I look to my right and see the dark skin of one who should not be allowed in public, much less a debate. I can look no further that way. My head jerks left. Three ugly men and a woman who does not know her place. I look back to the crowd and know what I must say.

"We must keep the Jew from gaining power and destroying our great nation..."

I have more to say but the crowd erupts in applause and shouts. Just like before.

#shortstory #author #tipsylit #writingprompt #author #politicalcommentary #shortstory #socialcommentary #tribute #writer #writing

Authoring Utopia

I don't often quote the prompt I am pulling from but this one requires a little explanation because it is so far off the letter of the prompt and done speech style so kind of surrealistic if you don't understand this is intended as a state of the union address, kind of. So the prompt this week is that after a tough year where writing goals were not met and other challenges arose the office supplies are not happy, you decide to rally them by delivering a state of the union address, and deliver it. This is so far off but my twisted mind went here. I will be writing something a bit more light hearted that fits into that prompt better and posting it soon, but please enjoy this from the dark side of my mind for now.

*pause for applause

*wait for national feed to go dark

*turn left to single functioning camera

“My fellow elite, the first year of my reign has not gone as expected. We had high hopes when we pooled our funds to buy this office. Even the magnificent glory of our shared intellect has not brought the change we hoped at the speed we desired. Let me begin by addressing the challenges we have seen.

“Readership is at an all time low. Respect for intellectuals and forward thinkers has risen but not by as much as we hoped. Our attempts to rewrite the constitution to encourage a peaceful state in the hands of those who pay attention have been thwarted at every turn by both Democrats and Republicans. I won’t even get started on the resistance we have encountered from the tobacco lobby who believe paper should be used for more than the creation of books, art, and scientific documents. Much less the pharmaceutical companies who dull the minds we are trying to enhance with their endless supply of non-curative prescription medications.

“We have faced challenges. We will continue to fight an uphill battle. It is a well known, to us anyway, fact that any egalitarian society will be born of struggle. A struggle with both those we wish to enhance as well as those left in the cold whose backs the empowered echelon rides upon. I assure you however, we will overcome all adversity. Another lesson we have learned from the greatest regimes in history is well intuited but little understood. When any group of oppressed people seize power they must oppress the people most directly opposed to them if they wish to maintain the new status quo.

*pause for beginning of message to sink in

*continue in slightly raised voice

*make tone and hand gestures more emphatic

“This is how we will proceed. Our contacts in the film and game rating industries will rapidly ramp up their guidelines. Disheartened by their inability to release any media that is fit for families or children the entertainment industry will turn to backing books. Our readership will increase. I ask that each of us put fifty percent of our earnings aside.

“With that money we will fund our own candidates within whichever party has the highest victory rate in any district. Within two years we will control the senate, and by the middle of my second term the house as well. Those are long term goals, but we must remember we are fighting a war of attrition, for the sake of our children. There is no quick fix easy answer. We must be dedicated to our cause.

“Our other objectives may have to wait but I believe by the end of this term we will see groundbreaking on the ‘special schools’ for those with lower IQs. That will be the stepping stone that eventually allows us to realize all of our goals.

“Thank you for your continued support, Athena bless you all, goodnight.

#shortstory #freedom #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary

Something Different - Kind Of

So this week's writing prompt is a goal/resolution list. I don't intend to re-post that here. A few months back I determined it was time to start being more open. Honestly most of my thoughts recently have been angry. I see people just not getting it. People who don't realize that when they try to fix a problem they focus on the wrong things. People not realizing that you have to think through what you say. People want change, I get that, we all do. However, we forget to look at the point, the basic truth, of what we are screaming about and it robs our message of its power and prestige. Some of these recent thoughts I have actually still held back on.

I am not holding back because they will make me look like an asshole. To some people they would, but those people wouldn't get it anyway. I know I'm not for everyone and I'm done trying to be. I like to think that most people out there will get that ideas need to be free. So I think I'm for most people but if some can't respect that I'm okay with that. I respect them and their right to disagree. The only people that really piss me off are the ones that yell without listening.

So, where is this coming from? I shouldn't read the news, that's where. No tinfoil hats here, I don't go in for conspiracy theories. However, I think it goes without saying that those who have power will do what they need to to keep it. Which is sad, because those with power should serve not expect to be served. I've been thinking a lot about how the two major parties in the US accuse each other of fear mongering and distorting the truth. The sad thing is, it is just what they want us to be afraid of. The Republicans want us to be afraid of external threats and killer diseases. The Democrats want us to be afraid of how society will break down if we aren't all kind to each other. Ignore honesty, we have to be politically correct and not hurt each other's feelings. Of course real concerns like how many people are still out of work never seem to enter into it.

What really started all this was a report about Putin's biggest rival in Russia and how his brother with jailed. It's a pretty damn sad story. I'm not going to say Russia doesn't have problems, and it's a pretty scary place to stand up for your rights from what I've seen. I have no first hand experience though. What struck me as odd was a comment in this report about how the US had strong concerns about what this meant for the future of Russia. The implication being the government was cracking down on the citizens and it was so bad.

My question is this. Why do we get to have an opinion these days? In the "pursuit of safety" we have done the same thing. Maybe it's not on the same level but it's there. I keep seeing these reports about kids getting arrested for things they say on social media, about threats to their schools and friends. I remember a time in my life when to go to jail you had to have two things. First was a crime, second was criminal intent. The idea of arresting someone for thinking about something is a big part of Orwell's 1984 and we are all terrified of this concept and where it leads. We all hated that Russia did these things years ago. Yet these days we are so concerned with being safe that we turn a blind eye to this. We know it leads down a dangerous path but we don't look at the bottom of the slope to where we might end up.

Yes, so far we are not too far down. We still try to do the right thing but the road to hell is, as they say, paved with good intentions. I don't think anyone is looking to the future saying 'Thirty more steps to an oppressive society' but we need to be aware of what we are doing. More importantly we need to remember that we have no right to judge another country until we fix the problems in our own. We need to wake up, be aware, and just realize that we are on the edge of a cliff. Are choices are simple, accept we prefer the illusion of safety to freedom and step off, figure out how to walk that fine balance and stop judging others doing the same, or as a whole decide to step back and realize that freedom is worth the risk. Mostly though we need to spend less time on judging and more time on getting right with ourselves. Life is hard enough. How about we stop making it harder for people who are none of our concern and start making it easier for our neighbors? Because most people are hurting right now and could use a helping hand.

Okay, I probably seem crazy to some people, but I'm okay with that. Just remember at the end of the day there are only two places freedom actually counts. The freedom to think what you want, and the freedom to say what you want. We each have a responsibility to each other. To defend those rights for others even, and especially, when we disagree with what they think or say. It is easy to defend someone when you are on their side. However, when you say the opposition shouldn't have the same rights as your friends you become a closed minded oppressor. Nobody wants to be a part of the problem but it is easy to become that without trying or even realizing that you are.

Just think it through and realize one thing. It is easy to point a finger and say, that's wrong. It is harder to look inside and see the same problem that needs cleaning up. In everything you do think first, how do I fix the personal problem? Do this in your personal life, your family life, and your community. You will find when you do that others try to follow. That's how you fix the world and those around you, by being an example. Of course Russia doesn't want to be like the US. We can't agree on anything. We arrest people for reasons the rest of the world can't understand. We censor people for having independent thoughts. Then we tell them not to do the same. If we fixed our shit others would follow, but nobody likes being yelled at by a hypocrite.

Okay, this is a long, rambling rant. In the end it comes to this. Protect your freedoms and express yourself. Stand for the freedoms of others even if you disagree with their message. Remember that all freedom beyond thought and speech are just words, and that is what makes them real because they are based in the true great ones. Live a life worthy of being an example and see how it changes the world. Last, but certainly not least, live a life of art and beauty. Create something and support the creations of others. Because art changes the world and makes life worth living. That expression keeps us free.







#commentary #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #thoughts #writer #writing #rights #freedom #art

The Redcoat Is Coming

This is dangly leg elf sixteen reporting in. These call names are really stupid. We should go for something with a little dignity. I understand you’re all about bringing people low, but allowing your operatives a sense of pride would do wonders for your organization.

Yes, I’m done bitching but I really don’t like your tone.

Well, the first thing I have noticed after a week here is that the man is very British. I mean he doesn’t eat at home much but when he does there is way too much water in his food. Who cooks the flavor out of everything like that? It is making it very difficult to steal meals out of his trash can. Oh, and how the hell did you know he would buy a limp legged elf like everyone’s grandma has? I mean we are not the kind of thing anyone goes for in this day and age.

Fine… fine! On to the report, there is nothing interesting going on.

Earl, Earl! Watch your mouth buddy. I may just be a novice reporter for your shitty, little tabloid but I know people. My uncle is a garden gnome who kills people who piss him off. I’m just saying, it might be a good idea not to upset me.

Yes. Everything we already knew is true. He really hates us after that article we ran about him. So it’s a good thing he has no idea I’m associated with you. He’s a funny guy but also an intelligent one. It would be best for us and those pulling our strings if he would stick with the funny. Beyond that he really believes in his causes. He wants people to know the truth, as he sees it. He really cares about people and has this strange eastern bent to his philosophy that makes him caring and compassionate. You add in his western style of speaking where he is loud and unapologetic and he becomes a very dangerous man.

Yes, he has been advocating revolution.

No. There is no way that works for us. You see I read his book. He isn’t home very much so I had plenty of time to do that. There is nothing violent involved in what he is calling for. If there were we might be able to send info up to the chain to the alphabet soup guys that are paying us for this info and any resulting story. What he’s calling for is everyone to be good to each other, including the government. Who thinks like that these days?

True, it is an act of sedition but he is too famous for us to do anything about it. I wish I had more real dirt for you. As much as I want to hate him I like him more every time he talks. Take no action until we have more. Right now he would just destroy us by taking to social media. I will report again next week.

#shortstory #politcialcommentary #socialcommentary #UK #writer #author

Screaming Love and Freedom

So this one is a from a prompt that took my mind to a very strange nightmare place. While not graphic I would call this nice and dark.

Esteemed Fifth Estate:

My first day in the oval office I was most concerned with my son’s trials at school. He was being bullied and I was sure the Secret Service detail now surrounding him would not completely stop it. Brent was a sensitive, intelligent boy. Even the change in location was unlikely to help. Like his father he was a child who would be tormented throughout his education, only finding sweet revenge in monumental success later in life.

More worrisome still were the reports from his psychiatrist. My teenage son was harboring quiet hero worship for those deviant children in the news over the past two decades. The ones with parents who loved the second amendment while hating personal responsibility and gun safety classes.

I had to focus. On the desk was an envelope. On the front, in the hand of my predecessor, it said simply, ‘Good Luck!’ My heart thrummed until I was able to dismiss those in the room with me. The words vanished in a shredding of confining paper to disgorge the contents. The missive inside was cryptic enough to capture my attention. ‘The bottom drawer of your desk contains a secret compartment. Inside you will find further wisdom. May it serve you well.’

After a moment of fumbling with the bottom of the drawer I found the latch. Inside was inspirational advice dating back to the founding of the Union. I will not disclose which president said what, though some are more obvious than others. Combined they inspired me to action. Following are the contents in their entirety.

‘When in the course of executive events we find ourselves hesitating to set foot upon the correct path wisdom is necessary. May these musings of those brave men of servitude who held this office before you be your guide. Add your own thought or do not. Choice is the child of freedom.

‘Heed those closest to you. The foundation of our land is in freedom, not solitude.

‘Division is the most treacherous of enemies. Be wary of it in all things.

‘Strike fear from your heart, hesitation will be the downfall of your legacy.

‘Fight for peace no matter the damage to your image.

‘I have drowned guilt over dead sons in questionable ethics. Find a better way.

‘Those who say violence never solved anything have not studied the origins of this country.’

My son’s words echoed in my mind, “But dad, they’re bullies.” I reflected on the two houses working “with” me; how divided they were. Echoes of the news reports that so fascinated my son became waking nightmares. I could not think of a better way, had my predecessors gone through this?

I added one line to the document before replacing it. ‘This is my manifesto.’ This letter will likely feature prominently in the first, and last report about my presidency. Will my son be proud?

I imagine still images of Capitol Hill and a cultured voice informing the citizens, “President elect kills X before turning the gun on himself.”

Sincerely,

Your Commander In Chief

#shortstory #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #dark #author #writer

Inevitable Realworld Scammers

The worst part is hearing your own self-deprecating thoughts echoed by people that are supposed to care for and about you.

Saturday, midnight, so technically it was Sunday. I sat at the computer with the usual windows open. Hunger gnawed at me. The Vienna Sausages from the dollar store were running low and the ramen was all but nonexistent. Perhaps when I finished I would fill up on water saltines. Tomorrow would be time enough to break open one of those precious packs of sodium flavored sustenance.

I paused to check my wallet. Green faced, bobble headed Abe Lincoln peered at me. I had just enough. After “breakfast” I would walk to the discount grocery store and pick up a wilted head of lettuce, a bruised tomato, one unintentionally dried mushroom, and a can of tuna. Once home I could add the last slice of processed American cheese and scrape questionable mayo out of the jar. Dinner for three days.

I would have a dollar left. Not enough for the bus but I prayed I had enough gas to get to the interview on Tuesday. I would probably run out on the way home but I would worry about that later, like when I was walking fifteen miles with my thumb out.

Finishing the inane questions I clicked submit. Instead of the ‘Your claim has been accepted’ message I got something else. At the same time the lights went out. I had been expecting it. Don’t pay the bill long enough and that happens. Thankfully the internet was still up at the moment.

I saw a counter that had started at thirty seconds. I had wasted ten. The message was cold.

Dear Long Term Unemployed;

 Your unemployment payments ended when the extension program terminated. Since that time efforts to renew have been made. All have failed as we feel it far more important to show separatists in other nations that they must bow to the will of their government. We feel the money is also better spent arming rebels that will inevitably turn against us in third world nations. We would much rather spend money you paid into the system on people who cannot vote for us.

Further, we do not want this issue raised during the election. We would like the unemployment numbers to go down. As one of the ways this is calculated is people filing claims, even when they are useless as no payments are forthcoming, we offer you this deal. Click below and we will pay you a lump sum of three million dollars. In return you will cease filing claims for the remainder of your life. You have thirty seconds to comply.

Sincerely,

Your Congress

I knew better than to click. The power was out, the internet would go soon. Once the laptop ran out of charge I wouldn’t even be able to job hunt. Next month the foreclosure would start. What the hell did I have to lose? I clicked the link and prayed.

The message was replaced by a new one, even colder.

We knew you were lazy. We knew you were looking for a handout. If you really wanted to work you would be. Your unemployment claim is denied. The process to demand a return of all funds due to fraud will be initiated on the next business day. Congratulations hippie.

I hate to waste water, but I began to weep.

#shortstory #anger #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #writer #reneweuc

Once Voice

The ship is sinking and has been for some time. I see no evidence of captain or crew. The crew is taking an extended meal break. The captain’s whereabouts are a mystery. I do the only thing I can.

I look over the railing again, begging God to let what I saw be my imagination. I receive the same result all men in my predicament do. When has anyone found a need to beseech the divine when it was nothing but their imagination? I was not the first.

The tentacles crawling up the side are not the most disturbing aspect of the scene. Each is ten times the size of a human and I see only a portion of them. They are the vibrant, dirty green of late spring leaves in New York. At the tip of each is a mouth of razor teeth the brown of dentures stained by years of bitter tea. Each has one eye faced backward to see only itself. They softly whisper in different languages, seductively creating madness and chaos; inspiring images of Babble.

More disturbing are the cracks in the hull, fissures that have existed for years. The monster or monsters embracing the boat are greedily holding it together. That cannot last, for when they slither close enough to touch they strike each other like snakes. Biting and spitting venom they battle until one falls away and the ship takes on water at an increased pace.

Tearing my eyes away I survey my fellow passengers again. I am not alone in my realization. The others have seen and broken into groups. Alone I wander amongst them. I listen for wisdom.

“The crew has sold us to the beast for their own safety.” Speak those clad in leather jackets and thick rimmed glasses.

“It visits us as punishment for idleness and acceptance of the deviants among us.” This echoes between soft, well dressed gentry casting accusing gazes.

“We must sympathize as we have brought this on ourselves in some manner.” Say folks bound in tweed, sporting pocket protectors.

I hear many opposing views. Most speaking do so with furtive glances at the ones they blame. As the tentacles creep ever closer I notice, most do not speak. Instead they continue to dance, wander, and ignore; hoping it will go away. They wait for rescue, for someone else to act. From all of them I sense fear. Voices are disparate but emotion unified.  So I speak.

“Friends and fellows we are not powerless. We possess a duty not seen in generations to set aside petty differences and act. Risk death together or face destruction alone cloaked in the cold comfort of our disdain. Follow me, defend the little we can call our own.”

I heft the nearest object I can use as a weapon. Leaning over the railing I wait for my chance to fight back. Looking around me I wonder at what my voice has done as many of my fellow passengers stand beside me.

#politicalcommentary #socialcommentary #shortstory #writing

Cambreadth High School

Seeing Susan fall beside me I knew the battle was lost. I watched the bloodied hand of my last compatriot land near my backpack. My eyes moved to the open bag and our secret weapon inside. My mind drifted back three days.

“So set your sights lower.” Thomas said. He always had a way of understating the importance of things. He was one of mine though, one of the forgotten refuse roaming the halls of WWH.

“And then what? Vocational? The hell with that. They created this problem.” I had to make them understand.

“Wait… Explain it again. What happened at the assembly?” Susan offered me her smile. The one that always made it hard to think but I tried to relate it.

Mr. Swanson ran the teacher assemblies. His eyes shone with malice mirroring his crew’s lack of concern for students like me. Mrs. Green headed up the opposition board and they seemed to care about us. Until you noticed the earbuds they wore. Those probably explained the heads bobbing in all the right places better than actual concern.

Mr. Swanson was just finishing up a motion to send a million dollars in aid to Jefferson High. They were in the middle of a cricket war with insurgents from a community college. The motion passed with unprecedented support. I chose that moment to wave my hands like a headless lunatic having a fit. Mr. Swanson didn’t bother to call on me. He just responded.

“Student 3498, we already know your complaints. It would not be better to spend this money on extending the school lunch benefits. We have had this conversation.”

“But since all schools became boarding schools you are required to provide for us.” I interrupted.

“Only so long as you are involved in a student job. We are all very sorry you lost your TA position. Perhaps you should have been more subservient than good at your job.” His wicked smile gleamed at me, the bastard. “New business?”

“We all feel for you.” Thomas wouldn’t even look at me. “But we can’t win. The teachers have real weapons. What do we have? Pencils and tablets!”

“It’s not about winning.” Susan chimed in. Thank the gods she was coming around. She had a way of convincing the unwashed and disgruntled masses.

“It’s about what’s right.” I jumped in. “It’s about making a stand and hoping others can change things. We’re all going to starve anyway.”

Then Susan said the most profound thing I have ever heard.

As I donned the pack and raised my hands the teachers stopped firing. They loved submission and surrender. I approached slowly and a large unit of teachers closed in around me. Our secret weapon, a book bomb stolen from a teacher, ticked silent towards detonation in my backpack. I smiled, hoping they were all close enough. Susan’s motto ran through my head just before the world filled with white light and pain.

It’s about how many of them can we make die?

#commentary #political commentary #socialcommentary #shortstory

Three Windows

Screeching of points along frosted glass. Methane stench, razor teeth drenched in rotted meat. Clicker clack of wicked talons born of blood and pain to eviscerate the helpless and the weak. Red eyes of desperation and madness shot through with an unhallowed glow. A face born for murder and mayhem staring at me. The window protects, always it protects me but the monster strains at it. The monster wants in the homes of all men and will make an example of me when the glass shatters.

It was always the same dream. It ended the same with me jerking awake in a pool unwashed fear staining the sheets. It began the same until one week ago. Then the gypsy appeared. Since then the dream starts in her wagon.

She flips two tarot cards. The first, the hanged man wears my face and a beatific smile. The second, the beast appears as the thing outside my window. She speaks as I hear screeching against glass.

“You must choose.”

Choose what? I want to scream but then I turn and see the face in the window. That is when I realize I am in my own bed.

The dream began to haunt me during waking hours.

I was staring at the window to reality that matters most to people now. I would drift away, lost in the images of the television. The politician grew fangs, the officer sprouted claws, big model stank of fetid meat, master survivor’s eyes glowed red with hate. On the television and the computer each person grew into the monster and looked at me.

Normally I could snap myself out of the trance but at times it continued. The image proceeded to the monster ripping my heart free and feasting on it. The murder was in plain view. I was a martyr. My sacrifice and pain showed other people they must fight these forgotten evils. It woke a world grown numb and blasé to the horrors walking forgotten amongst the people. The voice echoed in my mind again.

You must choose.

I looked into the window showing my soul and my eyes lost focus. My face, its face, one in the same. Through the watery waves of displaced vision I saw myself rampage. Not a victim I devoured the hearts of those who would wrong me. The politician, the officer, the stars all fell before me. I was merciless. They looked on me and they were terrified.  The voice came again.

You must choose.

The dream is different now. I awake not to the screeching but the stench of eternal methane and rot. The window is open and he is laughing. I know not if it is a reflection in hidden glass or vengeance come for me. I stare up at it and it down at me. The head of the beast echoes my movements. I draw near the window. In the face looking back with curiosity to rival my own I see the answer.

And I choose…

#shortstory #politicalcommentary #socialcommentary

Political Anger

In general I try to avoid politics but today I can't. Promise I'll post a story later to make up for it.

I'm feeling very angry that with the budget extension congress can attach a rider to fund rebels but not bother to #reneweuc. If you live in the States reach out to your reps. Or you can go buy my book and make it unnecessary for me at least. Better yet... both.

Good thing there's not an election coming up or anything.

Okay, rant off. Again, sorry about that.






#aboutme #anger #politicalcommentary #shamelessselfpromotion #socialcommentary #novel

No Parades

This one was for a prompt called War Never Changes. Feeling a bit dark today so it seemed like a good choice.

The secretary of the army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband, Enlisted Five Jeremy W. Jones died in Vietnam on 15 February 1968, from wound received while on combat operation when hit by hostile small arms fire.

Please accept my deepest sympathy, this confirms personal notification made by a representative of the secretary of the army.

I was three when that telegram came. I carry it in my breast pocket, close to my heart. With it I feel closer to a father I never knew. In me war skipped a generation.

Last month, 18 May 2011 0900 local time I received a visit from two Marines in dress blues. Different words, same message. With professional empathy and candor they informed me Terrence M Jones, enlisted three, died in Afghanistan on 11 May 2011 from wounds received on combat operations from hostile artillery.

I blamed the soldiers no more than the doctors twenty years prior. In the pocket with the telegram is the MRI image showing my wife’s cancer. Found too late. A year later I was a single father.

I do not know why I chose Turkey or that particular hotel. It was old and out of the way. It seemed like a quiet place where I would not be interrupted. Human interruption was not a concern but the past, as they say, has a way of catching up.

I traveled with one small handbag. At a local hardware store I added a shopping bag with a single item. Settling in was easy. Opening the suitcase on the foot of the bed I dry swallowed a Vicodin. I do not know why I turned on the TV.

Waiting for the pill to kick in I made preparations. I tied a knot I learned in boyscouts in the rope obtained on my trip to the store. Standing atop an antique chest my nose filled with the scent of archaic oil. Antique chest?

I climbed down and opened the relic. Inside were artifacts of the Ottoman Empire. Most important were a black and white photograph and a letter. The photo showed a dapper young man in uniform smiling at an older gentleman. The letter contained different words in another language but the same message. It informed Mr. Humayun his son had died from wounds received in combat with Russian troops during the First World War.

Through tears I saw faded scuff marks on the rafter I intended to use as a gallows. Victims of war are plentiful and only the combatants lack choice in their stories’ endings. I heard the president announcing our withdrawal from the hellhole that cost me my son on the television. I made a vow to be different than Mr. Humayun. I would not disgrace my son’s sacrifice.

                  I could make my loss mean something. I was on a plane home the next day. I arrived and immediately started contacting families. Together we unknown, distant casualties of war will ensure our relatives are not forgotten. In honor of my lost family I am calling my charity, Their Parade.  














#dark #politicalcommentary #shortstory #socialcommentary

Wolf's Clothing Part 2

Apparently too long. Let's see how many posts this takes.

For a time the brothers knew peace. It was the peace that only one that lives without danger and with enough distance from his family that they might visit but not happen upon him can know. For a time solitude and peace brought with them happiness. That time was less than a week.

U’tana’ had watched the brothers argue from the top of a hill. He understood their language but was unable to hear the word from the ground on which he stood. When the soft men parted ways U’tana’ sent scouts to follow the two that departed the area. Then he gathered the surviving warriors of his tribe. The land, their women, and their brothers that had gone to the happy hunting grounds would be avenged.

U’tana’ led his band first to the north. Rage filled his heart when his eyes landed upon the mockery of his people that was the hut of the eldest brother Porc. It was only due to the respect the other braves held for him that he was able to still them before they fell upon the hut too early. U’tana’ made his way to the door of the hut and rapped upon it. The eldest of the soft men called from inside.

“Who comes to my home uninvited?”

U’tana was ready for such a response. He knew more of the ways these men held than they did of his people. He replied in a voice that was strong and proud. He spoke for his people.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.” Came the reply from inside.

“Then I shall huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ informed the soft man in challenge.

U’tana’ let his tribe do as they wished. The dwelling was shredded with ease. U’tana’ stepped through the wreckage and took his revenge with blade and might. He left the body in the sun as a warning to those that would dare defile his people in the future.

The band rode south. It was a day’s ride between the two homesteads. When they arrived anger still filled the braves. The man they sought was on their land, his brother had chosen to mock them and while this one did not he had tarried here; his people had brought disease and death to the tribe and the land. Still they might have been convinced to show mercy. Then they saw the stumps of the trees that had been used to construct the home, the sacred trees. Mercy left their hearts. They were warriors.

Again U’tana’ knocked upon the door to the home. The cabin was of sturdier make than the first and yet it was weak and the man was alone. Once more the man spoke as U’tana’ expected of him.

“Who comes to my home uninvited?”

Once again U’tana’ spoke the traditional phrase for Porc’s people.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.” The words, it seemed, ran in the family.

“Then I shall huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ cried out with rage and pain.

U’tana’ had shed the life’s blood of one enemy. He allowed the other warriors to do their will unto this one. At his signal flaming arrows were loosed upon the wood from which the cabin was constructed. The structure caught with ease and avenging smoke filled the air while purifying flames lit the land. The tribe was patient and required surety. It was not until the squeals and screams of the middle brother ceased filling the air that they moved south once more.

There would be no mercy for the youngest brother. The warriors knew that these soft men were no different than the others that came before them. Respect and compassion were absent from the hearts of the Porcs. The decimated tribe saw the fortress of stone in the style that cavalry soldiers built before going to war with the natives and they knew that the soft pink men intended no mercy for them either. Still they would not cease. They knew no fear and their cause was just, righteous. They had come too far to fail. What they were unable to see were the soldiers that had gathered at Pierre’s request.

The warriors dismounted and followed U’tana’ to the gate of the keep. U’tana’ pounded upon the larger door. He was greeted from inside, the youngest brother also the boldest though he could see those outside.

“Who comes to my home uninvited?”

U’tana’ raised his voice to the sky to be heard by the man within. He cried for his people.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.” There was a taunting laugh to the words.

“Then I shall huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ responded in a shout. This last time would bring peace.

The braves stormed the keep. Some climbed the stones of the wall but only attained half the height of the structure. Others flew in rage at the door, the weakest point of the fortress, attacking wood with their blades. There was commotion inside and at first it seemed the inhabitants were afraid.

Then the doors flew open. The soldiers flowed out with swords and rifles in hand. They bent to the attack with joy that all of the soft pink men seemed to share for slaughter.

The warriors on the wall dropped into the fray. Soft men fell and died, others were injured to a point that they would no longer be of service. The tribe was outnumbered. Their weapons were strong but no match for those of the soldiers. U’tana’ and his brothers gave it their all, bringing a good fight to the invaders but in the end they were slaughtered. To a man they died with their eyes to the sky. They perished knowing that the remaining soldiers would kill the women, children and elders without compassion to put an end to what had happened here.

U’tana’ passed from this life knowing that he had done what was right. He died knowing that he had failed, that he would be vilified by the soft men. His field of vision was eclipsed in his last moments by the body of Pierre Porc. That man held a torch that he used to set the ground around U’tana’ aflame. That was not enough. Pierre put his torch to U’tana’s clothing before jabbing the burning end against U’tana’s skin.

The warrior smelled his flesh burning away. U’tana’ never cried out with the pain. He was stronger than the Porcs and he would not give his murderer the satisfaction. He died a warrior as did those that had followed him.

The area was cleared and the ground stained red with the blood of heroes. The soft pink men had their way. The savages were removed by whatever means necessary.

And the land wept.

#dark #politicalcommentary #shortstory #fairytale #nativeamerican

Wolf's Clothing

Going a little longer and darker today. The challenge on this was to rewrite a fairy tale from the villains point of view.

                 U’tana’ Waya was a warrior of his people. The men of his family had been hunters since the times when land and sky were one. Once the sons of the chief had chosen their brides the men of the Waya line had their choice of the most beautiful women amongst the tribe. They always had. Hunters had been revered and loved. It was when the soft men came that the role of his family had changed.

                The soft pink men destroyed everything they touched. They ravaged the land, burned the trees, and slaughtered the animals of the forest with no thought towards leaving enough to breed and prosper to provide food for the children of their children. Witness the absence of buffalo after their arrival, a thing that had never before been a danger. Worst of all these pigs violated and defiled the women of the tribe.

                The tribe was naught more than animals to the pigs. Their women were property to be stolen, used, destroyed, and then returned in a tarnished state or worse left lying in their blood and shame; forced to survive on their own if they were able, which many were not. The tribe must then attempt to set to right whatever devastation had been most recently visited upon those women after the soft pink men had departed. They did what they could but as the pigs also slaughtered members of the tribe; man, woman or child; when the urge or strong drink was upon the interlopers the tribe had a difficult time of it.

If the natives resorted to extreme measures such actions could be understood could they not? They were necessary. What brave would wish a violated squaw? If one claimed or spoke for the woman she was left in peace. It made U’tana’ ill when one was disposed of. Avoiding such a fate for as many as possible was why he had taken one of the defiled for his own wife. It was also why his eldest daughter was not of his blood.

U’tana’ was thirsty for revenge. The tribe was hungry for blood and satisfaction. First the explorers came and some of those did not survive, though most passed through too quickly and the vengeance was much as ashes in the mouth of the tribe. Next the cavalry arrived and the tribe flowed their wrath upon the men in blue. Some of the soft men passed with the attacks. The losses to the invaders were not enough to hide that those attacks did more to leave the tribe broken and depleted of warriors than they did to stem the invasion. With U’tana’s people “broken” and depleted the government of the soft pink men declared the land tamed. The three brothers came to the acres they had purchased despite the fact that the tribe had never sold it. Finally the tribe saw the chance to balance the scales.

The brothers Porc had purchased the land at an amazing price from the government. They had no qualms about what had happened there, though that was part of the reason for the discount. There was still some concern that the efforts to drive off or exterminate the savages that inhabited the land previously had not been entirely successful. The official that had signed papers with them had been emphatic that he told them of the danger only because it was required. In his professional opinion there was no longer cause for concern. The cavalry had seen to that.

The brothers were divided in their acceptance of that assurance. Andre, the eldest and most morbid of humor had complete faith that the Lord and his rulers would protect him. Benoit, the middle brother and shortest of temper believed that God was on his side but that human officials were full of lies if it brought them the ends they sought. Pierre, the youngest and most nervous of spirit knew that all men deceived and believed that the Lord only helped those that helped themselves. Thus they were arguing.

“We should mock these savages!” Andre insisted in his gruff and boisterous tones. “We will build our homes from grass and mud in honor of their huts and in the manner of their teepees!”

The time had long passed that the younger brothers caved instantly to the bleetings of their elder. Both shook their head. Andre was hard to take, though his brothers could do so with more ease than others. Pierre would not look upon his brother. Benoit was more benevolent. He spoke in calm, soothing, reasonable tones when he offered his own opinions.

“While I believe that we are safe there is no reason to be cruel to the animals. Moreover it is wise to take precaution and avoid tempting fate by mocking them. I advise that we build cabins of log as we had back home.”

Andre laughed off the suggestion. Benoit had skin thickened by a lifetime of jibes from his brother and shrugged off this newest one. Pierre then offered his own advice. He seethed the words out in a sibilant hiss that was positively serpentine and brooked no argument.

“We must defend ourselves. We shall build a fortress of the sturdiest stones we can pull from the land and fill it with soldiers and men at arms.”

Pierre’s tone brooked no argument and yet the other brothers did so. Under open air and then in their tent to protect from morning dew the siblings raged and bickered. The disagreement knew no surcease. At the end they declared they were no longer family and would see each other no more. They divided the plot in thirds. Each would abandon the others and do their own will upon their private land.

Andre went north and built his mocking hut of grass and mud. Benoit cut down trees that had been sacred to the tribe and built his log cabin on the ground where he had lost his brothers in symbol if not fact. Pierre rode south to build his outpost after gathering the largest and mightiest of stones from the hills that existed there.

For a time the brothers knew peace. It was the peace that only one that lives without danger and with enough distance from his family that they might visit but not happen upon him can know. For a time solitude and peace brought with them happiness. That time was less than a week.

#dark #politicalcommentary #shortstory #fairytale #nativeamerican

Daisy Girl

So I just got my first pick up from the Kindle Unlimited program. I wasn't going to post anymore today but seems like something to celebrate. Here is another one that is chock full of social commentary and really, really dark. I know I disturbed a few people with this one and hope you enjoy. Oh and as part of the process, I was listening to Eve of Destruction a lot and thinking of the Daisy Girl presidential commercial when I wrote this one. I think it shows.

Twelve noon, twelfth floor, going down. Who hit the button for four?

Eleven passengers; soccer mom and infant child, Russian immigrants – grandma – mom - teenage boy, NYC cop from another era who serves and pacifies, two construction workers, gentleman from the east maybe a terrorist, woman that works in perfume wearing a short skirt with promotion heels, homeless Vietnam vet who panhandles covering Country Joe. The last is me.

“My budet perym oni vkyuchayut.” – Grandma Russia.

“Tikho, oni ne budut!” – Teen Russia.

Ten minutes after the car stops. An announcement: The roof hatch is locked. Early detection of possible missiles, everything is shut down. Stay put, stay calm.

“Keep that kid quiet.” – The angry cop.

Nine infractions of the child crying in an hour. The first casualty of claustrophobia it hits the wall, silence. None protest, he has a gun and anger. We have only fear.

“My po-prezhnemu ryadom.” – Mother Russia.

Eight seconds of deafness. The argument began. We are all going to die in here. We all agree. The blue collar boys blame the Russian immigrants. The immigrants argue in broken English, seeming unsurprised. The boys beat the Russians to death. Only the terrorist tries to protect them. Deafening roar of the cop’s gun barking once to keep the peace. It stinks in here now; death excrement cologne. Mother keens in one corner, Barbie perfume another. I can hear again. Why am I too weak to stand up to the executioners? I fill with shame.

Seven hours stuck here, no way there are missiles coming but we still believe. Heartbroken mom finally rushes the cop. Her revenge cut short by a bullet in the heart.

“You killed him!” She wails then deafness again. No wasted bullets. If he has less ammunition than people he knows we will end his terror.

Five hours until we’ve been in here a day. We have tried talking but no one wants to. We argue when we speak and the cop looks for the next target. More dead than living. Quiet is easier.

Four, it was the construction workers that pushed four, now we remember. Accusations: If not for them we would have been out before the stall. The cop starts it, beating them with their own hammers to conserve ammo. The lady joins in and, God help me, so do I.

Three meals from anarchy, sometimes less. Three left alive.

Two bullets fired. The strumpet starts seducing the cop. She gains his gun and fires one against the artery in his thigh, one into his groin. Now we are safe but she has the gun.

One violent tryst, I am afraid but alive. She has the gun. I do as she says. Fluids are exchanged but numbers are not. One day since the stall the elevator moves again.

Launch. Parking. She slides out and clicks away on her heels. She blows me a kiss. Surprised I am alive I do not follow. Instead I punch five, menswear. I need to buy a tie.

#shortstory #socialcommentary #politicalcommentary #dark #celebration