Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/979331-Culture-Wars
by Djinn
Rated: 18+ · Novel · Cultural · #979331
Start of novel in progress. Christian Right America Vs Socialist Humanistic European Union
She had never heard the sound of a persons ribs crack before, she never would have figured it would be so loud. She tries to stop herself from wincing as she stares on, watching the group send kick after kick from their black, steel toe boots. Striking at will yet in some kind of sick, sadistic harmony. Thud after dull thud fills the room, she glances at the poor bastard on the receiving end of the brutality. He's a young man, no older than 19. A member of the Michigan national guard, his uniform torn, wrinkled, and covered in dirt. The look on his almost babyish face is nothing short of nightmarish. An expression of complete agony shining through a crimson mask.

She feels compelled to say something, anything, just so long as it puts an end to the insanity... but for some reason she can't allow herself to even open her mouth. Suddenly, despite her best attempts at supressing it she gets a flash back, remembering what exactly brought her to where she is now. She thinks back ten years when she was a happy, carefree child full of life and love. She remembers the day it all changed, she was sitting in her living room listening to Radio Disney, humming along her favorite tunes and coloring a picture of The Little Mermaid.

She was just about to get up and show her mother what at her young age she considered a masterpiece when suddenly she heard the sound of glass breaking. She ran to open her bedroom door, but something was pressing against it, holding it shut. She tried with all her might, using every last bit of energy in her tiny little body to budge the door open, she finally got it cracked a little ways only to hear the pained, frantic whisper of her mother. "Hypatia, darling hide! do like we practiced! go to the basement through that special door in your closet! hide somewhere, in a few hours I want you to crawl out the basement window and run to your uncle Luke's house, ok? Mommy and Daddy are gonna be ok! we just have to sort out some grown up business, now run! NOW!"

Bang! Bang! Bang! her mother slams the door shut, she hears the voices of what sounds like a dozen men, she hears someone scream "Alright, your time has come you terrorists sons of bitches! Don't think we won't kill you traitors and piss on your worthless bodies! Your best bet is to be real nice and come along peacefully, we are under the orders to bring you back to base dead or alive, you choose which one it will be" Hypatia darts towards her closet, quickly going through the routine her parents made sure she learned, it obviously worked as she went through each step without even thinking, The training obviously paid off because in what seemed like mere seconds her tiny little feet were touching the cold, hard, basement floor.

"Alright! enough! hold this piece of shit up, he's got some explaining to do". She snaps back to reality at hearing the voice of the group leader, Seth. A well built 18 year old, blonde spikey hair, beautiful baby blue eyes that seem to radiate an angry determination. The sleeves on his plain black t-shirt rolled up, revealing his muscular arms. The group follows his orders, holding the bruised, beaten, and bloody mess of a soldier up. Restraining him is Fred, a long haired 16 year old who can be called nothing less than fat. He has a stupid, silly grin on his face as he holds the victims right arm. Holding the left is Kevin, A tall, native american guy in his early twenties, he sports a mohawk and an emotionless face.

She watches Seth search the soldiers uniform, and then with a fire in his eyes that almost sent her jolting back, she saw him grab the soldier by the throat. "Where is your fucking identification? whats your name?" he said in a voice that seemed to pierce through her like an arrow. The soldier just stared at him with a dead like gaze, he said nothing as blood ran down his face, dripping on his shirt. Seth squeezed tighter, completely enraged. The soldier started choking, Seth squeezed tighter and tighter. "Stop! your gonna kill him!" she blurted out, she could be silent no more. Seth stared right at her, with a big grin, drunk with his rage, dripping with sarcasm he said "Oh, really?". He let go of the soldiers throat, turning his attention towards her. Panic raged through her as he approached, standing inches from her face. "Kill him? sorta like... how they killed your parents?".

She could say nothing, she just put her head down, staring at the floor, feeling completely floored. She thought to herself, asking why she felt any sympathy for the soldier, after all Seth was right. What did her parents do that was so awful? not going by the status quo? her parents had hated guns, they would have never harmed anyone, the only crime they committed was offending the stupid, speaking their minds, having a voice of their own. They spoke against the government but they loved this country! Did they not have the right to protest? it seemed obvious to her now that they didn't and in todays america protest will get you demonized. She felt Seth touching the side of her face, caressing it with his fingers, he lifted her head up, staring into her eyes and he suddenly kissed her. She didn't know what to do, part of her wanted to shove him into a knife, the other part was completely helpless, unable to move. It seemed he wielded a power over her, something she could not quite explain. He broke the kiss and smiled at her, then turning his attention to the soldier, still being restrained.

Seth reached into his pocket, pulling out a BIC lighter, holding it under the soldiers chin, lighting it, flames shooting up, about half an inch from the mans skin. "I suggest you tell me your name or things will get very... unpleasant"
© Copyright 2005 Djinn (grunged at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/979331-Culture-Wars