The Darkness of the Revolution

The Aftermath

Fire pounding down from the heavens, children running screaming the names of their mothers. Dreams, hopes, and wishes burning like the homes of the small town of Kinkola. A rancid smell fills the air. It is the smell of desperation, fear, and most of all the pungent scent of death. This war, this pain and suffering, brought on by the corrupt government of the Seven Nations, bent on destroying the peaceful life that the natives have made for themselves over the last three hundred years. In one day, everything can change.

The Disaster of the Seven Nations

Everything is quiet. The slow, still quiet that gently comes forth in the darkness of the night in the Seven Nations. In this impenetrable darkness lies a secret of even darker substance. The dark protects it, it does not scare the villagers in the small town of Kinkola, it merely pushes them away from the truth, the truth the darkness is very wise to hide. Above the great darkness lies a star, a star fighting to reveal the secret. When the bright shining sun rises from its slumber the world is alight again, no secrets, no danger. The dark is still there, clutching the secret even in its slumber.

Morning brings the quiet awakening of the village, together they congregate in the town market place. The chatter of people fills the air. One man is yelling about fish, a woman is yelling about persian rugs, children are running through the dirty streets, mud and dirt covering their feet. You stride down the market path, looking for a certain article of clothing, a black scarf. Belladonna, the star of the town, is standing on her platform. She is enclothed in a white silk dress. She is one of the members of the only rich family who live here, she is the daughter of the leader of the Seven Nations. You stride towards her, her eyes are black as night and sparkle like a thousand stars. Suddenly you hear a long gong, you like everyone else in the town shudder at the loud reverberating noise. It means only one thing, you race to the town square, mud flying everywhere. Dust filling the air. At the platform you see it, the dreaded gallows. The Seven Nations punishes rebels by death, and they force everyone in town to watch them suffer. When you see who is walking out onto the platform you gasp in disbelief. It was Sir James Mathew Benedict Clarke the second. He was Belladonna's father. You watch as he goes towards the gallows and toward his death. You glance over and see Belladonna with her head held high. Why isn’t she upset? After the execution you go over to the Clarke estate. You notice that Belladonna is sitting there - and she is laughing. That night you can’t sleep. The darkness is fading- aching to reveal the secret. When you awake the next morning the sky is dark with storm clouds. You know what must be done. That morning you get dressed to go down to the town hall. When you arrive you see Belladonna coming out of the old office. The office that belonged to her father before his execution. Her head is held up strong and she has a fiery, defiant look in her black eyes. Suddenly you catch a glance of a red mark on her jacket. Before you can get a better look she turns a corner and you lose sight. The mark still sends chills down your spine. You have seen that very mark before, in the days before you became the monarch of the Seven Nations. That night the secret breaks free. You have been trying to suppress it for years, it was always there, lingering, watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The Dream

Leather shoes slap on the hard ground. These are the days of the dark. The days of the power of the nations. On that day, groups of rebels walked the streets in protest. All sporting red badges. The fierce, determined expressions on their faces. You walked among them, but somehow you were still and outcast among outcasts. You walked with a limp. Your hair was greasy and plastered to your face. You met with them in secret buildings until… you wake up in a cold sweat. You need to realize your past before you can help the future.

Apocalypse

The next morning your body is full of sand. Your legs feel like lead as you try to walk. You fall back onto your bed and shudder with the realization of the night before. You have snap shots of memory: being rushed to the hospital, the drugs they gave you to make you forget. The promises that they made - that they could make it stop. They instead had erased who you were. They erased every kind and generous fiber in your body. They made you a machine. A monarch, A brainwashed man serving the corrupt government. But you do not serve them. You rule them. You walk down the streets and you notice things you have never noticed before. People shy away from you on the street. You realize your power. How could someone be so corrupt as to take away your innocence? Your opinions. Your freedom. Something snaps. Belladonna, that smug cocky look on her face. She thinks she won, you won’t let that happen. You grab her wrist as she passes and clamp your hand over her mouth. You want her to feel what you felt. In the days of your rebellion. You drag her down the streets to the gallows. You remember how rebels were treated, she deserves the same suffering. You drag her up onto the platform. She screams as you shove the noose over her head. You ring the gong, you want everyone to come and see, see what happens when one steps out of line. You pause, is this really what you were meant to do? Her screams sound so much like your own. You remember the suffering. You remember the pain. The fear in your chest, bursting to get out. You look down at her tear stained face ready to relent. You look at the blazing pin on her chest. The bright red of rebellion. Your heart hardens. You want to do this. This will make it right. Belladonna looks at you, her face is cold. She starts to speak, “ You, my father, all of the leaders in those portraits. You are all corrupt. You have taken so many innocent lives. So many mothers and fathers, and I guess you are going to take away a daughter's life as well. So go ahead, kill me. See what happens.” Her eyes bore into yours with wrath and determination. You hang her. She dies a hero of the rebellion. The next morning ten more people are wearing badges. Then twenty. Executions are daily. There are active guards on the streets, ready to shoot at any one wearing the mark of a rebel. War erupts in the Third and Fifth Nations. Bombs are dropped daily. You walk the streets everyday. You are spit at. Cursed at. Rocks are hurled at your head. You continue your march through Kinkola. You are in control. It only takes one more match to make the explosion that will end the Seven Nations. And it comes from a little boy who yells, “ rotten ruler “ and throws a rock. This tips the scales.

After The Aftermath

It is a month after the first bomb dropped. A month after the fire spread. A week since the fighting has been over. A week since your victory. You walk along the deserted streets. You are just coming to terms with what you did. The bombs. The screams. The smell of death. The pleas for help. You remember watching the city burn. You were like the Roman ruler Nero . Watching from your golden palace while you watched the city burn. No one else survives. You are the last survivor. You die in your sleep. The darkness has taken over. It has won.