“The scent wafted through the cracked window, reminding (him/her/they/it) of….”
This is something new for the Muse blog this week, working off a single sentence, so
let’s see how this goes…
The scent wafted through the cracked window, reminding me of the day I came to be in
this god-awful place. Once a beautiful city, it had been stripped of any status by the new government in charge. I sneered. If you call what ruled this country one anyways. Oh, they went through the proper channels, of course, but that was by replacing its local and national officials with candidates of their making. And I stress the word, making.
Deo-Libertais had come into power while America had been looking overseas, beyond its boundaries, worried about external threats. They had slipped in through the cracks, erupted from the shadows, fed the night. We, the Akara, had tried to stand against them. Still did in parts. But they’d driven us deeper into the mountains, protecting our own instead of the once populous country. Now there were handfuls of ragtag bands that fought the Society but not enough. Most conformed to their rule.
The spear pressed into my back got me up and moving toward the doors. Campaign time.
“Move, Jetu,” the guard behind me spit.
In my weak state, I stumbled and went down.
He struck me in the back with the wooden portion of the weapon.
I rallied to my feet.
Half-starved, battered, bruised, my pride wouldn’t let me give up. There would come a day, I promised myself.
I was led out onto the platform where the latest Society candidate joked and taunted of my capture. He brandished a knife and waved it in front of my face before scraping it along my cheek.
He turned to the crowd. “See, friends, how easily these pathetic scrounges are caught. How they cower to our power, our truth. As soon, will the world.” He motioned for the crowd to settle. “Oh, yes, the world. Every nation shall kneel to us, let there be no doubt. We shall shake them in our fists, and gut them as they once did us.” He pointed at me. “This, this, rubble will be overrun.”
Cheers went round the gathering.
Mostly made up of slaves eager to show their approval by the militia who kept their weapons trained on them.
There would be no uprisings here.
The point of hope had broken. Everywhere.
It would be only a matter of time before the other countries fell to them.
Still, I could not admit defeat in my heart.
When the candidate approached me again, severed my bonds, and dared me to attack, I waited, crouched low. I knew I couldn’t take the guards but he was a different story. If I could but reach him. So what, another could rise to take his place? I considered bitterly. No, there was no time for hesitation. I waited for him to move closer and then leapt at him.
His scream was cut off by the slice of his blade across his throat.
The crowd went wild.
The militia could not back them down.
As the guards dispatched me, and I fell to the platform. I knew my act hadn’t been for nothing. Freedom had candled in the people’s hearts. They would fight again and the day would come when they rose up and slay their masters. I could see it now, even as my gaze faded to their fight.