Hell on Earth: The Revolution II

Everyone else was sweating, quiet, but sweating. She could see their chest beating up and down, she knew their heart rates were probably through the roof. Some of them were in faded military uniforms, others were in old street clothes, there was no standard look. This was war and war wasn’t pretty. They all looked from the enemy to her, from the enemy to her, waiting on her command.

Hearts beating, palms sweating, she laughed. It was a quiet laugh but it was contagious. They all looked at her like she was crazy before they started to laugh. Her heart didn’t beat fast anymore when it was time to attack. She couldn’t remember the last time her palms sweated.

War

War

They took her world. They took her child, her mother, her life. For her killing them was peaceful, it was art derived from pain. Most of them were sleeping, they looked like children, teenagers but that was the enemy’s plan. Who would attack children? Their red eyes gave them away though.

Aliens weren’t little green men or big Godzilla like monsters; the aliens that took out half the population shared their DNA. It turns out there were two earths and theirs was older, more polluted and more vicious. For them this war wasn’t about land or resources it was about power. Attack us before we had the capability to attack them.

“Don’t waste bullets. Don’t fear death! If you get close enough use your claws! Rip their fuc%ing hearts out and make them regret they ever stepped foot here! I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, hungry for revenge and thirsty for their blood! Follow me and reclaim what is ours! Follow me and die a legend or live a REVOLUTIONARY!!!” Putting her guns in the should holster and putting on her claws she looked each of them in the eye and jumped into the enemy camp screaming, hoping more would come out so more would die!

The revolution is now!

Hell on Earth: The Revolution

All she could remember was the noise, the deafening noise. Lying in bed, seriously considering calling in to have a four day weekend she thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest. “Am I dreaming?” Is the question she asked herself when all she saw was the backyard where her bathroom and closet once stood. The smoke, the fire, the screams, it was happening in slow motion.

It wasn’t until there was one scream in particular. One scream that shook her out of her dream state. She’d heard him cry before, heard him whine and play fight with his cousins but she’d never heard him scream like he was screaming now.

Jumping out of bed, taking in her neighbor lying in her backyard with half his head blown off she fought through the smoke and heat and crashing that seemed to be seconds away from falling on her to get to where she heard him screaming!

The front of the house collapsed, pieces of brick and glass everywhere. The harder she scratched and pulled to get to the scream the less fear and pain she felt. Her fingernails cracking, the heat from the fire scorching her thin nightgown.

Feeling hands on her waist pulling her back she turned to fight, seeing her husband bleeding from his head all she could do was scream, “He’s in there! He’s in there! Listen! Listen!” There was a dead look in his eyes, a look she could never recall seeing before, one that chilled her in her tracks even with all the noise and fire around her.

“We have to go Lauren! He’s gone baby! He’s gone!” Turning around, pushing him away! Still scratching! Still clawing! He could hear the rest of the roof creaking, he could hear the explosions happening around him! As the rest of the house collapsed he pulled her onto the front lawn screaming!

That was two years ago, that was the start of hell on earth!

That was the start of the rebellion that she now led!

To Be Continued…

War

War

My Conflict With America and Myself: A History We Can’t Ignore

a flag I was driving on US 59 and Fannin yesterday when I saw a billboard about celebrating the revolutionaries. You know the names, George Washington, Ben Franklin, these great men that liberated America from the British and started maybe the greatest country the world has ever seen. In that moment of thinking about how I couldn’t wait to go to the Museum of Fine Arts because I love history I felt a great sense of sadness. Sadness because I was excited to go read about and view the history of men that enslaved my ancestors.

Imagine that for a second. Africans and Europeans and countries and civilizations all over the world took part in slavery for centuries but only in America, this land of the free and the brave did that take it to such a level that even other countries said, “What the hell?!”

George Washington, the first President of our great nation owned slaves. Thomas Jefferson had more little mixed kids than any pro athlete or rapper we could think of. We romanticize these men and celebrate them in history books and museums when they looked at us as property. They would have rather saw us enslaved than free us to help them fight the British and they’re my heroes?

It’s no secret that if Abraham Lincoln could have kept the country from going to war he would have let the South keep slavery. Even to men in the north that thought slavery was uncouth they mostly felt that way because of money. Southerners were getting rich off free labor and the north couldn’t compete.

I don’t want to make this about just African Americans and all we endured. Let’s talk about our beloved America. I won’t ignore the 400 years of slavery and the Reconstruction period and the Civil Rights Period and the Regan Crack Laws that decimated my father’s generation. I’ll table that for now. America had Chinese people build the railroads, after they built the railroads they were put in concentration camps. Millions died trying to connect the east coast to the west coast. America literally wiped out Native Americans, Google the “Trail of Tears,” there was no room for savages they said. America took Manifest Destiny and wiped out all of what is now Southern and Western America. We look at the Alamo as Americans standing up to the big bad Mexicans when in fact it was us taking their land and their homes. I could go on and on but understand my conflict, I still love this country that has done so much wrong to so many people. I still feel like I couldn’t have the life I have if I didn’t live here. That bothers me and I wish I could explain the nights I sit up and try to imagine what my ancestors had to go through.

Racism still exist, classism is only getting bigger. The food we eat is damn near poison, the prices we pay are 400 times what they cost to make it. Nothing has changed with this country I love but the packaging. That’s what hurts me most of all.