I first posted this series of short stories when I started here on steemit nearly two years ago, and it was the writing that got my foot in the door. Philosophical in nature I've labeled it Reality In Fiction- for the readers of my novels it is very different than my usual style though I still feel you'll enjoy them.
I've been distracted by other projects in the meantime, but I was inspired to begin again by a conversation I recently had with my husband and a good friend.
The chapter's aren't extremely long, so if you have some time I would recommend beginning at the beginning.
The Playground Series Episode 9- "Swear No Oaths"- contains links to previous 8 chapters
However if you don't, this new chapter could stand alone so feel free to read on :)
If I attempted to enter another country without papers, I could be shot for it.
This is a concept that I keep finding myself stuck on recently- men believing so strongly in the invisible lines drawn on a map that they will actually put a bullet in someone to keep them from crossing over those lines. Or at the very least kidnap them and put them in a cage.
How I long for Ijustam to magically appear out of the woods, it has become very lonely in my world since he vanished. No one to share these thoughts with- no one who wouldn't think I had lost my mind if I did.
I sit in history class and marvel at how we call ourselves a 'sophisticated society'- exactly how are we so different from tribes of long ago? Because they used spears instead of automatic weapons to fight over territory? And are they really still teaching us that the war after 9/11 was justifiable? Even if we accepted the official story of terrorists led by a single Pakistani man- what did Iraq have to do with it again? Hey teach- how about we play the video of George W. making a joke out of the weapons of mass destruction that they didn't find, now that is educational.
I watch as my classmates obediently scribble notes, then regurgitate these notes when called on, and an eerie feeling steals over me. I don't fit in here anymore.
It has been more than a year since I laid eyes on the boy who grabbed my hand and led me out of the cave. A very long year and the longest part of it was the summer. I was at the playground almost every single day, waiting, but he never came. How long until I see him again?
I don't doubt his existence. I know most would begin to believe they had dreamed him up, but he was more real than anything in my life to this day. Certainly nothing and no one has affected me so profoundly.
The bell rings and I get to my feet thinking about this Pavlovian conditioning system with an inner eye roll as I gather my things. Does anyone else know that Ivan Petrovich Pavlov was the Professor of Pharmacology at St. Petersburg's Military Medical Academy? I suppose it's impressive that such a man influences the public school system almost a century after his death. And pharma has certainly begun playing as major a role as conditioning in recent years.
I look around the room and for a moment I consider saying "Hey guys, did you know pharma" comes from the greek word pharamakeia and that it's defined as 'witchcraft, magic, the use of spells and potions of magic, often involving drugs–a magic spell'?" Somehow I doubt that will make it into a lesson plan anytime soon. But the internet has provided us with a vast library of information at our fingertips- how is it that so many people still take this garbage being fed to us in this oppressive brick juvenile prison as gospel when it's so easily contradicted now?
I move through the halls and watch as my classmates glazed expressions transform in the precious few minutes they have between 'lessons'. It makes me smile to notice this- no matter how hard they try, those in power will never completely stamp out the spirits within.
Ironically I no longer share their glazed expressions when in the classroom, instead I listen and write notes so I can go home and research it for myself. "Columbus discovered the new world, he's such a hero we have a holiday in his name." Eh, wrongo. He was a murdering, enslaving, rapist tyrant. This is not top secret information, or a conspiracy theory- there is backup upon backup to these claims yet they're still teaching children "Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492..." Does no one else think that is a bit of a sick joke at this point?
His face flashes across my brain as the words whisper inside my mind and the pain of loss flares inside of me.
I know you do- where the hell are you so we can talk about it?
He doesn't answer, which is probably good since I might actually have to question my sanity if he did. But suddenly there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach and when the last bell rings I know where I'll be heading.
Maybe today is the day.
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