Rebellion Rekindled

Society had crumbled. Concrete jungles had fallen into the abyss of slavery and darkness. Will society re-emerge into the light or had the light at the end of the tunnel flickered and doused itself? Flickers of rebellion were stamped out before they bloomed hope in our hearts.

Wind howled and the clock struck twelve. Wrapping my coarsely woven scarf, I ran though the shadows and the wind, shivering.

“Peace for all,” I whispered into the shadows. Clinks and clanks whispered back at me. Clink, clank! Cogs and Gears, shifting and rotating. Click! The door opened and I strode into the rebellion Headquarters.

“We’ve been waiting,” An ominous voice hollered, echoing off the dilapidated walls. Lights flickered on and off. It was the perfect setting for a horror movie. You might even expect a ghost to wander out of nowhere. However, this was like home to me. Capitalism, corruption, and black-market dealings were commonplace nowadays with the underground populace, especially with the recent influx in technology. Anything out of the norm and our throat was slit, and our heads shown to the world as a deterrent. Nowhere was safe except here.

“You know what to do, right?” The voice questioned, a ghost of malice coating every syllable, every word.

“Yes, I do,” I replied, in the same tone. Malice sewn into the curves of the o and e. The time had come. “They’ll pay today, won’t they?” I questioned, my hands nervously fiddling with the bottle in my hands. A ghost of a smile flickering on my face.

“Yes, they will, love, yes, they will,” He laughs, as I exit my haven, on a mission, a mission to save the world.

Walking the streets back to my master’s house, I clenched the bottle so hard, it felt like it was about to crack. “Little frightened bondmaid, poisons underground overlord.” I mocked myself and looked around. Luckily, the streets were deserted. As I said nowhere was safe, hence, if anyone had caught wind of that, my life forfeit without a fair trial.

Tiptoeing into the cramped slave quarters, I made sure not a squeak or scratch escaped and reached my master’s ears. Despite their fuming mad eyes, I knew none of them would dare face the wrath of our master. If any of us slaves were singled out for leaving the complex, all would be executed under treason. After all, what were our lives worth to them anyway?

Zap!

“Argh! I’ll never get used to that”, I muttered under my breath, Electric shocks were used to punish slaves for imperfections, but our master woke us up via electric shocks to make us try and work harder to not succumb to the whip. Donning our uniforms, we headed to do our tasks. Lowering my head, I nimbly walked into the kitchen to start my day’s work. Under that bowed head, lay a mephistophelian smile.

Boiling the water, I started work on the pudding, while my fellow slaves worked on the rest of the dishes. As I worked on the tea, my hands unknowingly reached inside my pocket before realisation clicked in my mind. I swore internally. What was I thinking? This entire plan could have dissolved in a matter of seconds. Something we had been planning for months on end. Quickly, I stuffed it back into my pocket, hoping no one saw me. I went back to work, like an innocent bondmaid, chanting furiously under my breath.

“Master-er, here’s y-your f-food,” I whimpered. He waved me off, nonchalantly. Placing the tray on the table, I backed away into the comfort of the shadows. Assythment, it was coming, slowly creeping back to them. They had thrown the boomerang of darkness, soon, that boomerang, would devour his soul. Slowly, he savoured his food, and soon, he finished off, and retired to his room to prepare for his dinner meeting. His final meeting.

During the day, I continued with my façade of a frightened slave. I continued with my chores throughout the day, clenching the bottle hidden in my pocket for comfort. “Soon, all this will be over,” I thought over and over, chanting it repetitively, like a prayer. The day passed in a whir of hubbub and frenzy. “Just a while longer, you can do it, “I encouraged myself.

Knock! Knock! I kept my head bowed, but curiosity took the better of me. I lifted my head just a fraction, but I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head.

“Keep your head down,” My master hissed, and I complied.

“Good evening! Mr Mulberry! I trust your journey here was comfortable,” My master asked politely, and they exchanged pleasantries for a while.

“Shall we have dinner? I’ve heard the magnanimous tales of the cooking of your slaves,” A voice I took to be Mr Mulberry huffed.

Soon, they entered the dining room, as we followed suit, heads bowed. My master snapped his fingers and slaves brought out the first course.

“Quickly, quickly,” I muttered and with a sleight of my hand, I uncorked the poison, and poured a few drops into each glass, before setting the wine down.

“Let’s toast to us,” Mr Mulberry announced to my master and picked up his glass of wine. My master picked his glass of wine up too.

“To us,” They announced together and took a sip and set down their glasses and continued discussing plans to expand their reach and profit.

My master and Mr Mulberry doubled over gagging and hurling. My fellow slaves were frightened out of their wits and huddled like banshees, trying to squeeze out the door.

“Two criminal overlords murdered. A seed of rebellion sown into reality. A hope. A dream,” I think and hope these spur others into action.

“May peace find us all,” I bellowed as I knocked down death’s door.