He slammed the door quick behind him as he took off down the stairs to the left of the door. On his way down he may have touched two steps since footing was the last thing in his mind. Solace. Peace. Clarity. Safety. These words had left his vocabulary years ago but with every string his heart screamed for them. He was without direction and began to run. He booked it past the residential areas now compounds of cinder and didn’t think twice of the gangs inside. Bullets went flying as his legs carried him into oblivion. The stupor showed no sign of wearing off but he could not stop running. He heard a train in his mind and with each churn of the wheels he felt a presence behind him driving him. His surroundings were a blur, all he saw was what was laying in front of. Jumping, ducking, and rolling through a war torn terrain fueled him with an adrenaline rush that he had not felt in years. Though darkness surrounded him like a straight jacket his mind was locked on some sort of light beckoning him forward. He had hallucinated many times before but this was different, there was safety, at least that is what he felt it to be, so he ran.
Wolves howled in the distance. Other various and estranged noises rang through the background but he continued to run. Fear had left his face as the voice within him kept shouting, “Run!” Nothing had been the same since the treaty. There were days long ago when one could go for a stroll at night. The moonlight could be enjoyed and there was a dull sense of safety given by the fleeting passing of patrol cars. Distant memories fade so fast.
Two years ago the war had ended and peace was heralded in as the godsend from the depths of the heart of humanity. Everything was on the brink of disaster as nations were at each other’s throats. The United States had resisted for five solid years the advancements of the newly fashioned Red Army. The land was left devoured and in utter disarray. It was as if locusts had ravaged every part of society riddling it with emptiness and desolation. America fought hard, to say the least. Stars and stripes coursed through every vein in those days as hope dwindled on the beckon of air raid sirens. Power was gone and the terrified lived in darkness.
There had been talk of a man in the Middle East who spoke of peace. Rumors spread like wildfire and the hope of the nation was placed entirely on this man. He spoke of peace not just in the Americas but of the Middle East as well. He claimed to have the solution to end all warfare between the Arabs and the Jews. He had his dream, for over two years now there has not been a single suicide bomber within the confines of the Israeli nation. His name was Robert Paulson, a beacon of hope for the world; others just called him the Assyrian.
With words of peace he had led the world into a new era. Out of nowhere he seized the United Nations and European Union. His words rattled souls of all he talked to, hope seemed to pour from his smooth and delicate words and thus the world had peace.
Tolstoy cared nothing for Middle East or talks of peace. Diplomacy had always been a crock to him. Something deep in his blood yearned to return to the feudal era when men battled over power and land. In this place was the only place he found dignity. In this place he became a soldier, not for his country but for himself. His dignity was found in the slain that laid at his feet. This dignity was quickly lost. War always seemed like a good idea until the aftermath. Resolve was never met. There was no peace. In his mind a foreigner could do northing for him, let alone a puppet government. The world was in shambles yet peace was lauded from the highest of watchtowers. Some peace. The gutters were lined with the dead. Women and there children sold themselves for a buck, dignity was gone, people were just another means to an end.
Propaganda became the filter through which knowledge abounded. Anything would be devoured with sex appeal thrown in. Pornographic brochures littered the streets, shipped to the masses preaching of peace and celebration. Even in the elementary schools children were endowed with sexual promiscuity as a “higher” form of learning. They said it overcame the ADD. No one however could explain the rise in the suicide rates. Mere coincidence was the only thing attributed to it, the children fed on each other, the older they grew the younger the victims were. Every person for themselves; Darwin would have been proud. Decay was all around, all that was left was to numb the throbbing ache. Humanity had come to its finest hour as darkness consumed all that was breathing.
No comments:
Post a Comment