Tin Universe Daily #132
There are so many versions of some stories,
Especially when a prospective to the title of
The Pledge is screwing with reality in Utah,
The
Dream Trail,
Within
a sleep of a creative seeped in pain the mountains of Virginia where burning.
This burning was caused by a Troop march across The Appalachian Trail and up
one side of the mountains of the city of Norton and now down towards the city
itself. Just as with the fires in the mountains of Montana caused by Troop
marches looking for Free Runners, this march also was one planned and smiled
upon.
The
march itself was a sight of power to see. Close to 100 men and women dressed
all in blue with weapons in hand heading straight at a gathering of The Feline,
a subculture who were protesting peacefully to be heard about their goal of
obtaining the right to love and procreate without government control. They were
positioned about halfway up one side of the mountain.
He
stood below from a view from behind the Feline rally. His boots where combat
boots like those worn by WWII American Paratroopers, his pants and suspenders
the sort worn by Union soldiers during the American Civil War, the shirt a
t-shirt black and just that black, and wrapped all around him was a long blood
red duster that once was black but now dusted red by Mars dust seeping into the
cracks of the jacket. He wears it as a reminder.
He
stood there thinking about choices. His blue eyes looked down as he lowered his
head. His eyes then went up in a different color and he began running up the
hill, up the mountain. He fought his way through the crowd shoving people down
and elbowing those who tried to block his trek to where he found himself
standing at the front of the protest line just as the flame throwers in the
hands of the Troop soldiers were within killing distance, they pulled their
triggers and he screamed something loud that may have been translated in some
languages as, ‘Not again!’
(c)System * Publishing
brian c.williams
brian c.williams
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