What Divides

I don’t even know where to begin. It has been a serious whirlwind since the election; too many monumental shifts to list them all. My mind wanders over the various slogans from the campaign, searching for something to lean on; to step back from this precipice of panic that seems to come with every executive order.

People have flooded the streets to protest the commoditization of air and water. Hyperweapons have targeted our minds with chaos pushing us into each other forcing our frontal cortex to expand into a sort of psychic bumper to shield against the assault of the man and other unwelcome guests that have come to our homes to record our position.

“Drain the swamp!” they chant and clamor thumping chests of black armor as they march into our place with proclamations of unity.  I assume it is to rid our government of the bottom-feeding creatures and corrupt system of obstruction and bias that favors only the elites class with slanted policies and shadowy influence from corporate interests.  This explains their presence among the commoners and those that must be enslaved for the betterment of all. This was rationalized on the nightly news.

I got caught up in the surge of people rushing to the streets from their cubby holes in the sky and knew, as I looked in either direction at the swarm of thousands, that I could die. There was no quick exit from this mob, from this siege on our city, on our place, and our minds. At either end of the sea of signs and masked faces were black war banners of the guard and they were inching toward the center, using their large shields and barricades to slowly pin the people into a box. A death box where rats are corralled for extermination.

High above, I am drawn to half-man, half-beast creatures that call down in shrill exuberance for the guard to kill. I realize they plan to feast on what remains. What world have I fallen? To my left, a shadow of a man, once a friend, maybe Rick from up the way, skims through laughing and disappears like wraith writhe with madness. Some people begin to realize what is happening and try to escape back to the buildings from where they came.

How I escaped from this was sheer luck. Fortunately, for whatever reason, I had decided to wear the ring that morning and still had it on. It was becoming dire and the pace of the guard’s push more aggressive.

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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