The Uprising - Part 3 (My Original Short Stories)
Maria Sanchez was an honest, hard working woman who used to run the local grocery shop just a few blocks down. A prominent figure within the community, she was known for her charm and witty nature. Her motto in life was "You learn the value of hard work by working hard". She was one of the lucky few who actually loved her job. A tiny cog working away within the machine called society. Her life was a routine, but happy place. Customers would joke with her that if she didn't stop smiling all the time, her teeth would simply dry out of her gums! Beloved by all, she had grown a loyal following in her 12 years of successfully establishing herself in the world of business. Then one day, "The Uprising" happened.
It had been two weeks exactly since her two boys, Samuel and Mateo, had been "Christened". A hunched, shadowy representation of Maria now stood by the window, glaring at the truck. Her face a sullen mask, sunken eyes retreating to the backs of her sockets. She hadn't washed for days and stank of uncleanliness. Dirty plates, clothes and cigarette butts littered the living room floor. The lights were switched off as they were most of the time now. Darkness had crept it's way slowly but surely into her world. She watched silently as three P.L.A. officers marched toward the Ramos household. A small grin formed, displaying a set of yellow, stained teeth. The welcoming smile of happiness she was once known for now a long forgotten memory...
Carlos felt his sweat ooze from his temples in an instant, his heartbeat slamming against his chest. The sight of the P.L.A. making their way to their "safe haven" was enough to bring anyone to their knees. Isabella grabbed his shirt and yelled. "Carlos, please, get in there now! Before it's too late!". He looked over to the corner of room. There, concealed under an old rug, was the floorboard they had pried open a few days ago. A small recess just big enough to fit him inside was uncovered underneath. He would have to curl up into a tight fetal position for the floorboard to be replaced, but this was the best plan they could devise using the minimalist materials they had.
Isabella wrenched his arm forward. Carlos resisted immediately. "Mama, stay focused! You know what to say, calm down and just remember. There is no going back if this goes wrong. I beg of you to compose yourself right now!". Isabella was shaking with terror but simultaneously taking deep breaths to help bring back some semblance of normality within her. She hissed, "They are coming, I know what to do, go now! Come on!". BANG! BANG! Two loud knocks at the door sounding like hammers being smashed into the wall next to them. They instinctively both dropped to the ground. Carefully, they crawled in the dark over to the rug and flipped it over. The floorboard revealed, Carlos used a small hook connected to the woodwork to open the flap. It creaked loudly from the pressure and they gasped in unison. Slowly, he continued to pulled upward until there was just enough room for him to crawl through. Isabella held it open while he careful descended into the darkened space. Two more loud bangs, this time with the end of a rifle. "Open up now. We know your there.". Those words burned like fire in their ears, yet they maintained concentration. Once inside, he balled himself up tightly and Isabella slowly eased it back down. "Mama, remember. Our lives depend on these next few moments. Please!" he whispered. She nodded hastily and pressed the floorboard down hard, finally covering it with the rug.
Taking all of a few seconds to compose herself, she made her way to the front door and turned on the light in their open plan living room. As she slid the bolt aside and turned the latch, the door blasted open almost throwing her to the floor. "What the fuck took you so long, huh?". He carried a small nightstick and started brandishing it in the air. "You live in this shit? God, you poor things". The two guards followed closely and shut the door behind them. "OK, where is he?". Isabella was looking at the captain meekly, but spoke clearly and calmly, just as they had discussed. "Sir, please, I am so sorry. I swear to you he has gone. He found out his girlfriend, Olivia, is pregnant and they ran away together. I had no idea until early this morning. I didn't know who to contact afterwards. We have no working phones here as you know, sir. You can verify this with Mila across the street". The captain eyed her up and down with revulsion, his medals by his breast pocket glistening in the dull light. "Really? I see. So let me get this straight. Carlos, that's his name, right? He ran away with a girl called Olivia because she was pregnant. Hmmmm. That's very touching. Well, I'm so sorry to disturb you at this late hour. You obviously have much bigger issues on your mind right now. We'll be on our way".
He turned and put his hand on the door handle, then stopped. "Can you answer me one thing before I leave?". He looked back at her, his penetrating eyes as black as the night itself. "I had the pleasure of visiting Miguel only a few moments ago and he said Carlos was at his party not long before. Is he lying to me? If so, I will go and shoot him immediately". Carlos was aching all over by now, his temples throbbing, muscles contracted from the pressure of being pressed up in that small, confined space. Sweating seemed to be dripping from every pore as he remained frozen in position. Fear gripped him like a vice, all he could do now was pray. Warm tears started to stream across his face.
Isabella was losing her grip of the situation fast. How could she imagine she was ever in charge of this impossible mess before her? She carried on. "I don't know what you mean, sir. He must have...". The captain lunged at her and slapped her face so hard, it almost broke her neck. "YOU FUCKING BITCH, I'LL GET BOTH MY MEN TO GANG RAPE YOUR CORPSE IF YOU WASTE ANY MORE OF MY TIME! NOW WHERE IN THE FUCK IS HE???". The faint aroma of nausea swept over Carlos. Vomit began to collect in his mouth. He started questioning in a vague haze of regret and utter contempt for himself.
Why did he go to that goddamn party? Why was he so nonchalant thinking they wouldn't turn up today for "The Christening"? Are these even liveable conditions for us? Is anything normal? Is this hell? Is this Satan? Is hell? Is what?
He was slowly losing his mind.
Isabella cowered on the floor, bleeding from a corner of her mouth, barely conscious. The captain crouched near her and yanked a clump of hair in his hand, snapping her neck back. He pulled out a pistol from his holster and shoved in straight in her mouth. "COME OUT NOW OR SHE'S DEAD IN 3... 2... 1..". At once the rug and floorboard burst into the air as Carlos kicked and screamed a wordless scream in hysterical delusion. His mother, his family, his life, his sanity, lost in this comedy of errors, this game of death. The Devil has well and truly won.
The captain stood up slowly and walked up to Carlos with a sickening grimace on his face, signalling to the guards. They pulled him up out of the recess and dragged his cold body into the centre of the room. A trail of vomit and tears smeared the floor before him. The three men looked at this feeble human in front of them, trying to slowly curl back up into a ball as if this would serve to protect him from what was to come. The captain kicked him sharply in the abdomen. Carlos gave a weak grunt of pain. The captain descended upon him and put his mouth to Carlos's ear. His breath smelled like burnt charcoal, thick and dense. Then, he spoke.
"Listen, my friend, the P.L.A. have been fighting for your cause for years now and finally we have managed to topple the puppets you looked upon as your so-called leaders. We use the interests of the people as our basis for fighting and doing the good that we did. Are you not proud to stand up for what's right and serve your country? To fight for the soil of our lands? Together? For liberty and freedom from tyranny? We believe in justice and just want your help strengthen our power as a nation to resist the enemy. Rebuild a better life for ourselves. Stabilise the government and give back to you, the people. Is that not want you want too? Well, let me let you into my little secret. Honestly? I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that bullshit! You're all fucking cockroaches to me, all of you! That whore lying on the ground next to you. All of you, pure scum. Disease infecting my life. The only joy I get now? Killing as many of you fucks as possible! And trust me, the high that gives me only keeps getting higher still with each extermination".
One of the guards stepped forward. "Sir, I'm sorry to remind you that you'll be late for your meeting of...". "SHUT THE FUCK UP", the captain yelled. "YOU EVER INTERRUPT ME AGAIN, I'LL SHOOT YOU MYSELF!". The guard put his head down gingerly and took one step back. Carlos was lost in a world of pain and suffering. Reality had just taken a nosedive and he was fresh outta parachutes. The captain groaned as he got back up to his feet. Age always catches up with the best of us, he thought. "OK, boys, dress him up and escort him to the truck". One of the guards proceeded to take out two plastic strips and knelt down to tie Carlos's sweat soaked hands behind his back. The other busied himself by wrapping a black cloth around his clammy head covering his pale blue eyes. Thoughts were reduced to lucid dreams. Dreams of a little boy playing with his mother in a garden filled with beautiful red roses under a sun drenched sky.
The guards hoisted him painfully to his feet and walked him slowly out of the house. Beady eyes watched along the street from behind netted curtains as he was slowly led up the ramp, through the drapes and set onto a cold, hard seat. He was beginning to gather his senses slightly as he felt warm bodies next to either side of him. He moaned in agony as every joint in his body ached from stiffness. "Mama?" he called out softly. He moved his leg forward and his foot touched another straight ahead of him. He tried to look out from under his blindfold to inspect his surroundings but it soon proved impossible. He started weeping quietly knowing that was the last time he would ever set eyes on his mother.
A single gunshot fired off in the distance... The last shreds of sanity disappeared into the recesses of his mind.
Hey ezzy, this is honestly one of the most brutal and disturbing stories I have ever read! And you know what? Absolutely incredible job! You've captured what real civil war is like, imagine the countless times this must have happened to real people and their families. Gripping from beginning to end!
Big fan of your descriptive and engaging style of writing and look forward to the publishing of your future book, lol!
Utterly brilliant, well done!
p.s. Congratulations for making the Project Curie list. I can totally see why!
Thank you so very very much for the comments. I'll try to write my next post on something a little bit more upbeat, but not by much, lol!
All the best and my heartfelt appreciation goes out to you.
Another masterpiece ezzy , great read as always.
Thank you, myb, much appreciated!
Well written, I look forward to the next part!
Thank you, mweich. Very grateful for your support and kind words.
@ezzy you keep writing like this and there's gonna be no steem left for the rest of us! :)
Lol, @getonthetrain, thank you, man. But I got a long way to go, as we all do. I love writing but also appreciate reading well thought out, great, articulate content, hence why I'm following you. Thanks once again, bud. :)
You got any stories in the pipeline that I will be reading in the next few days?
One or two, my friend. Lots of ideas floating around so just gotta gather them all up, put them in order and start typing. :)