Fear

in my creative writing class we were supposed to write a story about what we are scared of

“The Fear”

Rebellion…that’s what they say I was arrested for. They really arrested me because I was gaining popularity throughout the country, pretty much informing the others about how life used to be. When we could be happy, have our own opinions, say what we wanted, think what we want, be ourselves. That all changed…it slowly creeped on us, so we wouldn’t notice. But I noticed as soon as the People feared the Government, when the Government should fear its people.

Anyways, the “United States” today is more like “Corrupted Government and Scared People States.” It started when they took the guns…of course it started riots and everything. My father and I were able to save a few, we weren’t about to give up our safety like that. Then came the changes to the Constitution. We gained a dictator, lost every freedom…even our freedom of thought. Dad and I instantly packed our bags and went underground.

There weren’t many of us at first, most people were too afraid to do anything differently. But not us, we were afraid what would happen if we didn’t do anything.

We gained numbers slowly, but during one of our movements, speeches of our own, my father was speaking, he was our voice. Soon we heard a gunshot, the only people that had guns were government officials. We all took a run for it, we got away, well…almost all of us. When we met up shortly after the incident, we noticed who was missing. An important person…a very, very important person…My father, Our leader.

After discussing this over with everyone, I didn’t cry, I didn’t do that in front of them. We, more like they, decided on our next voice. It was myself. I didn’t know how I was going to run this, without the guidance of my father, my hero. But I know he would say that I’m ready. And now, I had the rage in my blood to fight even harder.

Our next movement, public meeting, was to inform the people what happened and what was currently going on. There were a few shedded tears, mostly children, a few woman that he helped out with during the times. And from there, we planned our revenge.

We made small attacks first, destroyed ‘schools’ where they brainwashed the young. Next were the ‘churches’ where they taught that the dictator was right, that this whole situation was right. This went along for a few good months. Working our way up to the news station, where they broadcasted the same thing over and over. Dictator speaking of tyranny and corrupted people.

We were a well populated group now, our message spoken. There were mini-groups, and I was well-known around the country. Then…it got insane. Not really insane, but kinda where I’m at now. I was sitting under the subway system, plotting out our next attack when I heard the padded steps of a dog and policeman’s shoes. Pretty soon there was a light on me, and I was knocked out cold.

I awoke here, in this ‘cell’. When I came to, I was knocked around, questions thrown at me as if they had no clue who I was, who I represented.

“I represent the People. The People that fear you. The People that once was a part of a great nation. The People you killed inside and out.” I replied once.

That response got my beat up, along with every man in that room having their way with me…welcome to today’s government. I got a couple good punches in, broke one guy’s nose. But I held no choice.

I am being moved now outside, pretty sure I’m set for firing squad. I just hope my voice, my fathers hopes, and our dreams, are being carried out. I said a quick prayer to my god, to my father, a quick ‘I love you’ whisper…then, gunshots.