The Uprising - Part 1 (My Original Short Stories)

The state had failed us. They never knew what hit them when the coup struck at our governments weakest hour. This time, it is was not just a skirmish but a full on revolution and we had every reason to fear what was to come next. The "P.L.A." as they called themselves apparently stood for "Public Libertarian Army". God, they were anything but. The only power they understood was through threat and violence, these self-proclaimed bastions of our civil liberty. They were now the filters of our society's voice and respect for them was maintained decisively through weaponized means. How could this happen to us?  To our country? Our freedom? Civil war was well and truly upon us and the new reasons for waking up in the morning were now changed to protect and survive.

It was coming close to three weeks now since "The Uprising" as the locals had named it. Our once peaceful neighbourhood was now shaken to it's very core. Shopping outlets were manned constantly by members of the P.L.A. and food shortages were already being reported. News channels, well, TV in general, had ceased two weeks ago. Believe me, it felt like a lifetime. Strange how quick us humans can adapt to our ever changing environments, even in the most dire of circumstances. Oh, what accommodating creatures we are! In truth, humans are starting to disgust me. 

We just had no time to prepare. Sure, there were warning signs. Sparse pockets of attacks against the government, always swiftly dealt with by our heroes in the armed forces. Little did they know the plans being forge behind enemy lines. The meagre rations dealt out by the P.L.A. were just enough for us to eat. But what if they run out? Where is our economy? Will everybody be re-integrated slowly into this dysopian nightmare? So many questions, yet so few answers. This feeling must be as close to madness as one can get.   

News of what was going on, what had changed since yesterday, the new rules soon to be implemented were now spread by nothing more than word of mouth. Our survival was based on decision-making built on just hearsay. What a joke. We would hear stories of how well known governmental members were being executed on an almost daily basis now. Figureheads you got to know and respect on television, now reduced to just political prisoners to be slaughtered. We would hear how planes from other nations were on their way to intervene in our crisis. Fly troops in to remove the cancer that had nested in our homelands and help bring stability back into our lives. But they never came. All the channels around the globe must be privy to every detail of what was happening to our once peaceful state, making headlines, even profiting from our suffering! Everyone knew but us and the irony of it all was that we were right in the thick of it.

There was one rumour however that stood out from the rest, as we had witnessed this first hand for ourselves. That of "The Christening" as we had distastefully branded it. We were fully aware that the initial takeover was only the beginning for the P.L.A.. They had plans to amass an army large enough to sustain their much sought after position of power and that would be through recruitment. Fortunately for them, a vast supply of young, eligible candidates were at their disposable. It was just a matter of collection. 

Late night, on every Thursday I believe, we would hear the trucks driving past through the neighbourhood. Peering out through the curtain, we would see the next batch of P.L.A. soldiers being carted off for training and service duty. Boys who had just a few hours ago, been with family and friends, a part of us. An integral united front. Would they even be recognisable if ever we saw them again? The thought was too distressing to give any time to. 

So now, the simple sound of a truck heard from afar was enough to make us sweat profusely, cramp up in our bellies, cry is short bursts of quiet whimpers as the looming danger approached. Is this my time? Being a strapping 26 year old who lives only with his mother, I would be an ideal choice. The fear of being ripped apart from the only person in the world keeping me sane right now was horrifying beyond comprehension. 

For I knew, it was a matter of not if, but when, they come calling to collect...  

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Hope you enjoyed this short story, please look out for more on the way... (author: @ezzy)