It had been nearly a century since the pogrom of 3456; it had stripped the country of Genovia of its tranquility. The pain of the event had seemed insurmountable at the time. For years Vion had been told of the time in history when the Genovians had seemed incapable of being humane, sentimental, and all the things that make humans, human. He’d been told all his live of the way they monopolized the minority; the Blumbergs.

Today was the anniversary of the event. It was as if he were in a hellish purgatory. Not knowing if he (of the majority of Genovia) would be blamed in a town so full of Blumbergs. The impudence of the people the way they could be so full of mirth on the anniversary of such a horror disgusted him.

The way they sauntered down the streets, completely unruffled at the fact that millions had died that day just 100 years ago partying the night away. The succulent fruit that was severed at the parties was of little consolation to him. When ever he implored as to why the people were not in morning he was harshly rebuked. Again and again he tried, using more tactful ways of asking the people. Soon they began giving him answers.

“Well boy,” they’d say, “We don’t want to forget the past but, but we gotta live in the present. This day is of the Genovian’s capitulation. We celebrate for those people who persevered through the trials of that time. Who kept on even when all seemed lost, who’ve shown the amazing amount pluck and courage that they had.”

Vion pondered on this for a moment. They were celebrating the end of the Genovian’s genocide, their reign of terror, their expedient reign of terror. They were rejoicing the Blumbergs triumph. They are so ardent in their joy. It seems nothing could dampen their spirits this night. Their joy it seems so boundless.

“Why do you care boy?” An old man had snuck up behind Vion. “None of your generation cares why should you? You didn’t have to scrounge for foodfor your family to eat! You didn’t have to dumpster dive to eat! I used to be forced to chattel the dead bodies for my family and friends daily!” a woman rushed up to the old man and began to pull him a way. “I’m sorry he reasons subjectively, believing what he wants and dismissing the rest. I am sorry.” Vion turned and walked off. To procure his mind of thinking he must really hate Genovian’s guts.

That night as Vion lay I his bed the thought back to the events of that day: I have learned so much! I can’t wait till next year!

I wrote this story with a friend for english class. that what all the underlined words were for, soory i'm just to lazy to take them out.