The Sins of All Fathers

This is a short story I wrote for school, and I think is really good (for me). I hope you like it too! And what I am trying to get across is the message, time repeats itself.

The pitter-patter of rain on the elegant windows droned on, and so did the Mayor’s speech. “Houndoon. The factories of the world are growing weak, the stores empty, and the people ill. This is the opportunity for us to rise up and help the other regions in their time of need, as they would do for us. Let us spread what we have to give, and raise the world from the mud that it is now in.”

              A seventeen year old boy named Parker listened intently. He was easily distinguished from the rest of the audience with his golden brown hair. Slouching in the front row, legs crossed, and smirk growing, Parker could see right through his father’s speech.

              “The world needs us. Tomorrow, ninety-nine ships depart to each of the three other regions. Thirty-three will depart to Lothure, the people of the sky, with their tall mountains now crumbling to dust. Thirty-three will depart to Kaverop, the people of the plains, now burning with despair. And the last thirty-tree shall depart to Merleshott, the land of the trees and forests, which are now decaying, and falling.”

              Parker watched a bead of sweat roll down his father’s brow. The tell. This also confirmed that he could be broken. “We, the people of Houndoon, the people of the sea, will revive them from their depressions. Those who will not leave must work not just for themselves, but for the other regions, too. Those who wish to come; let the waves of the sea push you forward.” The Mayor pounded his clenched, right fist on his left shoulder, and then took a few steps back to signify the ending of his speech.

              The crowd gave a dull cheer, and left. The only person left sitting in the audience was Parker, still slouching and sneering. “So father, how do you expect to round up a thousand men in one day? That speech sure won’t get you them.”

              The Mayor sat down and put his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Parker. I guess I’ve lost my touch…”

              Parker looked around to make sure no one was left in Tadbon Hall, and then cynically sneered, “Help these people, Dad, don’t repeat Grandfather’s mistakes. Don’t try to rule ALL the regions.”

              The Mayor retorted. “I don’t want to rule them, I just…”

              Parker finished his father’s sentence. “…want to unite them. I know. But how? Grandfather failed, and Merleshott and Kaverop have been at war for 600 years. I think they may still have a few issues to work out that can’t be solved over some coffee.”

              Parker stopped talking, and looked over at his distressed father. He knew his father hated when the faults in his plans were surfaced. The two rode home in silence.

---

              Parker was sitting in the Victorian Dining room, when he was told that more than a thousand people had volunteered to leave. “What did you tell them, Dad?” asked Parker. The Mayor didn’t respond, but just folded his bacon in half, and then pushed it into his mouth and took his time to chew.

              Parker picked up his own fork and dug into his own breakfast. He was tired of his father’s choices. He couldn’t wait for the next election, where he would then be old enough to run against his father. He knew that he could be a better Mayor than his father. Better than his grandfather, too.

“Three months”, he mumbled to himself.  Three months until the election. In that time, his father’s choices could kill many, just like his grandfather. The same words kept scrawling through his head. “You’re so much like your father, Parker.”They compared him to his father. So many people told him this. But, this was before grey hair of stress covered the Mayor’s head; this was before everything started going downhill.

 Parker watched his father diffidently eat his breakfast while a maid continued to fill his plate. Parker was five when he was chosen from the orphanage to be the heir to the Mayor. The Orphan Mother got every orphan in the orphanage dressed in their Sunday best the minute she got the call from the Mayor, announcing he would be choosing from Beauhill Orphanage. Parker rebelled and messed up his gelled hair and turned his pockets the wrong way out. When the Mayor arrived, he was chosen without a second thought.

The enthusiastic young Mayor raised Parker, and began to teach everything he knew the moment they climbed in that muddy carriage bound for London. The Mayor openly shared his plans for Houndoon. “Houndoon will be great, someday. Greater than it is now. We will spread our power to even the darkest corners of Earth. Give them civilization and prosperity and life. We just need to wait for them to be ready. We need to wait for them to need us.” Parker distinctively remembers the white grin that covered his father’s face when telling him this. He remembered the oversized top hat he would always wear, and the plaid blazers he would wear every day.

Now, there were only plain suits. No fun. No Life. The Mayor suddenly spoke, breaking the long silence.

              “The men signed up. They signed up because they wish to leave Houndoon, to make a new life away from here, even if the place is in depression. You’re right Parker, and you will be a better Mayor, but remember, I never planned anything I have done. If you wish not to do something, plan to do it.” The man got up from the table, and walked off, sad and in deep thought.

Parker rose from his own seat, restraining the guilt that filled his soul.

---

The election went as planned. Parker won. First order of business, send another ninety-nine ships.

Author's Note

Thanks for reviewing. Every review will contribute to me being a better writer, and I need it.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The things men do and say for a election. The story could be similar to many situations in our world. I like the feel of realness in the story. men who sit in the safeness of distance. Do not fear death. If leaders fought aside Soldiers. Life would be more precious. No weakness in this story. Made me think about the story and real life. Thank you for the excellent story.
Coyote

[Jocelyn_wonders]

This is a good short story. The title is superb and fits the content.
Re: 'will revive them of their depressions' - unclear; whose depressions do you mean?
A nit-picky thing - 'grey hairs of stress'- plural seems to be needed here.
I think that ending the story without a sentence fragment would be more literary.

Otherwise, you wrote an interesting plot which you moved forward with dialogue. Your word usage is good; your vocabulary is good and your grammar is fine. Your characterizations are good, and your main character, Parker, is very real to me. I especially enjoyed the back story about how Parker was adopted from the orphanage.
Jocelynwonders

[Nicole]

Very interesting. A profound read. Just a little work on dialogue set up and it'd be perfect!

[Shannon M. Beech]

I like this story a lot, I understand that this was part of a school assignment, but as many others have expressed I too wished there was more. This sounds like an excellent introduction to a longer story. I would consider planning out the story farther and see where that takes you.

I really wanted to find out more about this world. What year does the story take place, is this story taking place on Earth, and if so what lead society to it's present state?

[Starcaller]

Very interesting, I loved it...but it did feel a little unfinished.

[MusicLover]

sorry forgot the number 100/100

[MusicLover]

I love this. You should write another chapter. I have a question. Can you read some of my works

[quarintine_deathangel]

Definantly opened up to a new idea of a world, very interesting. A truly insightful detail and image of the storyline. I enjoyed reading it and would love to see more! :)

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Wonderful story, Sabrina, very well thought out and written. What an imagination you have!

[Shep]

just state. He would be old enough..... keep it simple

Good story first of all and very pleased to see it was writen thrid person. So many here are writen first person and a few of those write it correctly. Now then questions. Why ninty- nine? And way split them so evenly? Odd numbers. Work just as well. Another. Problem I had was I wanted more of the story. For this one seemed unfinished. Also note most stories have there lows and there highs. This one stayed in the middle. Add something that grabs the reader. Make them laugh, make them cry. Grip them with fear. You are incontrol of their emotions. Like said good story, but you can make it great. If have anthing else you like me to read, shoot me over an email.