The Fall of Nothing
Spring: part 1:
I stand in a town square. Shouting words of confidence to the many men and women who came to listen to their hope. My name is Hope, I give them hope, I tell them hope. It fits.
I stand on top of a statue of The King riding a horse. I stamp my foot and a long crack comes down on his head. They all laugh at the torment of their dictator. I too, let out a cold, heartless laugh at his dispense.
"We will not be taken down!" I shout, they cheer and shout other words. I wear no armor, I am fully unarmed. I am standing on a statue of our King, laughing at him. This could not be any more unsafe. But I don't care. "Down with the king" I sneer the last words. "He doesn't deserve to be called King!"
Cheers and shouts accompany my own shouts of scrutiny. Sirens wail from across the town, police come to tear down our rebellious fest. My lieutenant, Gabriel, tugs on my sleeve. I ben down to he can talk into my ear.
"You've done enough for one day Hope, now come on. The police will kill you if they find you here." he hisses. Gabriel is probably the only one who can keep me sane, but somehow his words only spur me on.
"Come now Gabriel!" I clap my friend on the back. "Down with the King! These men need to be spurred on! If the police come they will have a riot on their hands!" I grin a crazy, insane, grin that would have some people in night-mares. But I am a girl who will not be stirred from her spot once she's there. "If their leader turns away they will have no one to look up to!" I turn away and shout to the crowd, becoming bigger each second: "Fight! Fight!"
"Alright," Gabriel mumbles. He looks up, this time his eyes shining. "Down with the King."
We turn back just as the cars come screeching down the roads. The crowd turns to face to on-coming threat with words like knives. Some carry pitch forks, some carry torches, some actually have knives in their hands. But one thing they all share in common is the bandanas strung up around their noses.
"DOWN WITH THE KING!" they all shout in unison. The men they face come in horses, in cars, on foot. But the men and women of the town do not falter when they see the threat, if anything they grow stronger.
Gabriel pulls me behind the statue and down the flight of stairs hidden behind the bulk of the horse.
People on the ground have attacked. They turn over cars, they spit in the horses eyes, they climb on top of cars and crush the windows. Many lie in the street by the time I've even reached the ground.
Both sides made terrible losses that day, but in the end, the anger on the rebel's side won out.
Our next fight would be in the drought of the summer.