A Bundle Of Sticks

Chapter 1 - Backspace

You could look around, although I wouldn't recommend it. There was a certain potency in the sharp vices that held order. It struck fear into the vulnerable, the innocent and the expectant. You must be what you must be. Conform. Unite. Together.

Because one stick can snap easily but a bundle will not snap. In a bundle all will feel the pain, except for a slight few who are lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. A bundle will endure the suffering eternally, to bear the scars of war and hurt forevermore. The weak are stronger together, entrapped by the omniscient laws of the forest that have no more collective wisdom than the very sticks that form it. However that bundle can always be reduced to its pitiful beginnings.

The grey darkened, the heavens let us see the fallen angels. I can't think why, we have mirrors. The walls that were set out to preserve the old way, exact what was, crumbled. Nostalgia was a poison. There was a pessimism that drowned the youth of any refuge. Refuge from the omnipotent conductor that would orchestrate everything perfectly. Perfect only in his sick and distorted vision. His vision was short sighted, self-important, blind even. Waves of red velvet enshrouded some place, or were they being choked. I am not sure of what is meant to be felt, pity or envy. I mustn't let my indecision distract me. His face was everywhere, I could not see past it. His commanding posters that attracted the desperate and deprived, like a moth to a flame, caked the sullen brick walls that could only echo that everlasting torment that we had been subjected to. Disgusted, I averted my gaze, the man who had been responsible for the demise of civilisation bearing over me with a filthy arrogance. His egocentricity was one of his most malicious characteristics. My facade of loyalty was being cracked open by betrayal. I am Insignificant. Dehumanised, I inhaled sharply.

He had many names: Supreme one, God, The great controller and he who should be thanked. I knew him as Satan but that was a pet name, never to reach the ear of anyone. Indeed, this place had many names: Heaven, Hell, The sanctuary, the trap, the picturesque cottage, Luton. Many names. Propaganda and the truth coalesced into one another; they had intoxicated me, my purity, my sanity tainted with a symbolic indoctrination. Brandished like cattle, sheep even. We all follow the omniscient shepherd out of fear. Religion and Ideology preys on the weak, the vulnerable, and the scared. Fear is power. He knew that. We had been subdued in such a way to forget. If you forget everything then you will regret nothing. I suppose in that way he was benevolent. No. Regret is important, regret makes you do things differently next time, and regret changes you. Change is what he feared. Water droplets would cascade and who could blame them. If I could do something he couldn't manipulate to his advantage, I would.

The weak would be left to rot and decay, and as for the strong, or as he knew them, the threats, they would be singled out and exterminated. How dare they try and think for themselves, not accept the spoon-fed lies. Dehumanised, I inhaled sharply.

Individualism will be crushed.

The message that was emblazoned on the eyelids of every sheep reeked of authoritarianism and stunk of autocratic rule: Serve him, Die quietly.

The inferiors were to fuel his hateful reign and propel us all into a bleak future, contented our collectively dismal prospects. I am green with envy of the blissfully ignorant. There was something to be said for submitting, enlightenment is the once curse that pervades humanity. Fine turquoise shards once coated a formerly brown expanse, only to inevitably revert to its lowly origin. I am tired of this, him. But as I am incessantly told that rest is for the weary and sleep is for the dead. If that be so then I am overcome with a burning desire for the finality of death. I want to end this chapter. Rewrite it. Burn it. Try again.

Yet time has no backspace.

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Author's Notes

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This is the first chapter so if you don't like the pace then I apologise. I intend for chapters 2 and 3 to have a lot more movement and action, as well as character inroduction and development. I am just trying to set the mood for this book, so that is why it is so philosophical. This is my first book on Wattpad, so do let me now if I have made any typos. All criticism and praise is appreciated in equal measure.

Thanks,

Topaz