October the month of
Halloween
is just days away!
My favorite month of the year.
To celebrate
I've written several flash fiction shorts for your enjoyment.
This is one of the first, and although my husband told me this wasn't a Halloween tale. I beg to differ. Dystopia, a word I've been hearing almost daily on the various news shows brought me this story during a nightmare. And honestly, it frightens me more than any of the other others that I've posted.
But I'd love to hear your thoughts...
Happy Halloween!
We
Saw It Coming!
Exactly one year after the 2020 election, the knock at the door came at noon.
We still weren’t ready. But the two men with AK-47’s who came to escort us to
the waiting bus didn’t care.
“Weapons?” he asked.
“No, sir, we don’t own any.” And we
didn’t. In our younger years, we’d each owned guns. We even enjoyed shooting
them, but when the babies arrived, we sold them to keep the house safe. We’d
never bothered to replace them.
The man grunted. “Figures. Stupid
liberals,” he said and smiled. Nodding to his buddy, he shoved my husband
forward. “Should’ve kept your Republican registration, you might have had a
chance.” Me, he let pass with only a sneer while mumbling, “Independent, slut!”
We were being moved to new
quarters. A camp for the elderly, they said—a place where we’d be taken care
of. Medicare and Social Security had been done away with, and those of us that
relied on it had to sell off our assets and agree to move to the ‘camps’ for
continued care. The bus was full of folks in the same position, and then I saw
the young mother and her child, sitting in the back seat. We took the seat in front of them.
“What are you doing here, dear?”
“I need care for my child,” she
whispered. Without government assistance, I can’t provide for her special
needs. I was told I could go to the camp and work there for the care we
both need.”
“I see.” I gazed at my husband. He shrugged, already resigned to the future.
“I’m glad you’ll be with us. It'll be nice to have some
youngsters running around," I said, trying to remain optimistic.
“Thank you,” she said. “Anny’s
already missing her granny.”
“Did she go someplace else?”
“Oh no,” the young woman said. She was killed
during the takeover. When the Patriots came to claim our city, she and Grandpa
were on the front lines with a sign of protest. They were shot. Killed
immediately.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
She gave a weak smile. “It’s all
right. They knew what would happen. I think they welcomed death. Ever since the
election, and all the changes, with COVID-19, all the unrest and violence. Neither of them wanted to live to see their free America destroyed. I would
have gone with them, but I couldn’t do that to my sweet Anny. She needs me.”
I nodded and turned in my seat. My
eyes filled with tears. I had wanted to do the same thing, but my husband said
it couldn’t get any worse, be patient. He was wrong.
We saw it coming. The madman in
the White House calling all the shots. Illegal, outrageous, unconstitutional, but
everyone let him do his thing. Sure, they tried impeachment. Ha, what a joke.
His own party excused his every move. After all, they were in power, and power is everything when increasing the bottom line is your only goal. Screw the people!
Most of my family voted him into office, then placed him there again, no matter what laws he broke. Even the people he wanted to destroy voted for him. It
boggles the mind. Scars the soul. Now the old, the disabled, and anyone
else who doesn’t bow and swear allegiance or simply doesn’t fit the mold are being
forced to move into ‘camps’ for their own good.
I can't help, but wonder—do these camps have ovens, gas
chambers, or were we to be poisoned during dinner?
The End
540 Words
Yolanda Renee
© 2020
Please Vote!
The future of our Democracy
depends on you!
