Revolution

Revolution has broke out and the world has gone crazy! Or maybe it's just me...

Despite the noise, I decided to sit on my back patio. It was a small, ten foot by ten foot concrete square, covered in wet leaves and branches from the myriad of trees that stretched overhead. The sun shone through the trees, keeping me warm despite the chill breeze that traipsed through my small world. Gunshots and shouts rang out constantly at this point.

I had decided early on that I did not want any part of the revolution and that I wasn't going to pick sides. Neither side had my best interests in mind so I felt it wasn't my fight. Most of my neighbors were involved and every so often I would recognize one of them shouting or screaming. I never did like them much anyways.

Still though, birds chirped at times and the trees sang with the rhythm of the breeze, a strange sort of music amongst the chaos. At times the gunshots seemed too close for comfort but what was I to do? I had no guns, just a fixed blade knife that I kept on my lap, just in case. I filled my tobacco pipe, pressed down the shredded leaf and with a strike of a match, began puffing away lazily. In my world I choose to be happy and relaxing on my patio was how I went about it.

I was never one for watching the news so I couldn't tell exactly why their was a revolution. I know it had to do with the government getting a bit too controlling and some people didn't like that. I'm sure there was a lot more to it but I couldn't tell you what. Maybe people didn't want to pay taxes anymore? Or they didn't want to give up their guns?

A car exploded across from my back patio. Through the small thicket of trees I could see the flames jump up. The noise was deafening. I tried to fight the irritation this was causing me but these people were just so damn noisy. I had wished I had ear plugs.

At times I considered going to each of my neighbors who were involved and explaining to them just how annoying all their noise had become. I wanted to let them know that even though I often had a large store of patience, they had steadily drained it and if they didn't stop, I'd be forced to make a formal complain with the police. I doubted they would listen. The local police department had dissolved and even the officers had joined in the fighting.

Sometimes people perplexed me.

It was around this time of personal debate that a man had staggered up to the edge of my patio. He had come down the trail that followed the tree line and townhouses that made up my side of the community in which I had resided. His side was leaking blood and he clutched a pistol tightly in his hand. Pain stretched his facial features and he stared at me with blank eyes. I'm sure at first he didn't even notice me.

"Excuse me sir, you are on my property and ruining my meditation. Please leave before I'm forced to file a complaint with the authorities," I said in as stern a voice as I could muster. His eyes focused and as quick as I had finished my words, he raised his arm and pointed his gun square at me. My patience was wearing desperately thin.

"Sir, I do not think you understand. I am not part of your revolution, I am a neutral party to this whole affair. You are trespassing and that is a crime. I'm willing to forgive and forget but you must leave now."

He pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing happened. I figured he must be out of bullets but I don't think it registered in his mind. He pulled the trigger again and again. Click, click, click. Nothing. His chest erupted as a bullet tore through it and slammed into the siding of my home. It missed me by mere inches. Regardless to say, my patience had dissolved.

As the man fell to his face, his blood had splashed my shoes and began to leak onto my patio. This was too much. The noise was bad enough and even the trespassing I could forgive but not this vandalism. How these people could think they could just shoot at my house and get blood on my patio was beyond me. Something had to be done.

After knocking the ashes out of my pipe, I refilled and lit it. Once I had a proper cherry burning, I took my knife in hand and stood up. I was going to complain, they had left me no other option. If they did not like what I had to say, well so be it!

I stomped out onto the trail behind my home and headed in the direction the dead man came from. I puffed furiously at my pipe as I tromped up the trail, making my way toward an outlet onto the road that led through my neighborhood.

The smell of gunpowder and burning tires was horrendous. As I walked out onto the street I found the neighborhood in ruins. Cars and houses were on fire, dead bodies lay strewn about and still people were fighting. One of my neighbors, Mr. Wilks, had taken cover behind his bullet-riddled sedan. He would be the first in which I'd make my complaints known.

Regardless of the flying bullets, I stalked over to Mr. Wilks. Fear had plastered his face and as I stood before him, his whole body shook. In my youth I could be quite imposing if I chose to be but I doubt I had been the cause of his fear.

"Mr. Wilks, sir, I'd like to have a word with you. Could you please allow me a moment of your time?" I said in a calm and even tone. It's always best to keep your cool when addressing an issue.

He stared up at me, eyes wide and mouth agape. "John? What the hell are you doing? Get down! Are you crazy?"

His questions were pointless and rude. He simply ignored my question. I almost felt pity for this man. A father of three and from all outward appearances, a good husband and father. His wife lay dead next to him.

"Mr. Wilks, I understand you're under a lot of stress at the moment but I have some serious complaints that need to be addressed. If you could simply give me a moment of your time I am positive we can resolve the issue quite quickly," I spoke as calm as possible. He stared at me with such an incredulous look on his face I knew almost instantly my words were wasted on him.

I drove my blade into his throat then wiped it on his clothes.

Looking around, I scanned the neighborhood for others involved in the noise and chaos. The sound of wood splintering, gunshots, shouts and screams, among many other sounds permeated the air, making my concentration shaky at best.

Down the road a young man threw a bottle with a flaming rag sticking out of it at a house. I had seen the boy around the neighborhood for years. Now he was setting his neighbor's house on fire. Before I knew it, I had begun to walk in his direction. Houses on both sides of me were either on fire or full of bullet holes. People lay dead in their yards or in their cars while at the end of the block, a small gunfight broke out amongst two cars. It didn't last long.

I stopped in front of the young man. His wide eyes looked wild and for the briefest of moments I felt doubt and fear. It was fleeting though as I realized he was driven more by fear than anything else.

"Young man, do your parents know you're out here setting fire to these good people's homes? What would they say if they knew what you were doing?"

"I doubt they'll say anything, they're in that house over there, dead. I'm just getting back at the people who killed them," his reply was dry, monotone. Death burned bright in his eyes and as we stood facing each other I knew there was no reaching him. He turned from me and watched the house burn.

Shouts erupted from inside the house. I stood next to the young man, silent and watching as three people stumbled out of the house, falling to the yard in front of them. Coughing and choking, they gasped for air. Next to me the boy lit another bottle and threw it at the three in the yard. It broke on impact and tossed flames on all three people. As their screams erupted I slid my knife into the side of the young man. He caused the noise they made.

After wiping the blade on his shirt I turned and scanned the neighborhood. People were running, screaming, fighting and shooting. Even this was too much for such a decent citizen as myself.

I walked home.

The stress of the day had ruined my mood so I decided to retire to my lounge chair and watch some television. The news was on and a reporter was babbling on about a string of murders and arson. I recognized the neighborhood and notice a squadron of police officers swarming on a house that looked just like mine. The fact she hadn't mentioned the revolution perturbed me.

My door exploded and men came rushing in, shouting and pointing their guns at me. I remained in my lounge chair, calm and confident as king of my castle.

I was thrown to the ground and handcuffed. They drug me away despite my protests. Now, well now here I am writing to you so that the world will know the truth. I am innocent. I didn't kill all those people. It was the revolution.

Author's Note

I wrote this a while back, forgot about it and just found it. Figured I'd upload it.

Reviews

[Schatzi]

Wow, this is very well written. The setting is well done and the story is fluid with good details.

I found your character's point of view interesting. He is a psychopath who is either schizophrenic or completely detached from his psychopathic self. Either way, it left me very curious about the "revolution" going on through this character without him knowing what he is actually doing. There is one drawback to seeing these events strictly through the main character's eyes, which I'm sure you would be very aware of. Point of view through the main character's eyes is very limiting so you really have to convey so much through such a limited view.

In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed your story and it was very well written. Nicely done!

[LapseOfMind]

Thank you very much and thank you for reading. I've only written a couple pieces using first person and have found each a challenge. I normally use third person but wanted to do more first person perspectives after writing a previous story that garnered pretty good reviews. First person definitely is, at least for me, a bit of challenge

[Richard Patrick]

It allows teh reader to see, how if a man is pushed too far. His sanity may break. The calm you speak of is madness all in itself. You see no wrong in what you have done. This is similar to project a friend of mine was saying, excute the killers. If we excute the killers. Than don't we become the killers, just as well. We all want to live in peace. Yet if someone has something, we want. If they will not give it to us. Is this just.
It is similar to the prices of food, and water. Which climb to prices so, high that we can not buy them. Than we burglarize homes, to provide ourselves with food. Or rob banks to do this. There should be something done about these problems that are raised. What happens?

Sincerely


Richard Patrick Edwards

[LapseOfMind]

Interesting points for sure. Thank you for reading and reviewing

[CJ Pole]

Disclaimer: My critique is just my opinion and I am by no means an expert. Please take all or none of my feedback as you like. I hope to be of some help to your writing in some way. I have not read any of the other reviews of this piece, so apologies if I'm repeating what others may have said.

Hi LapseOfMind

The writing is solid. You create your setting well, there's enough detail for me to imagine it yet with enough restraint that you don't get bogged down in it. The pace is good. It's clear you are a good writer.

The problem for me is the character, who is unbelievable. A psychopath killing without remorse amid chaos he has no interest in or a single clue as to why it's happening. There's no hint of fear when confronted with a near death experience - that takes a lot. But as it's written from his POV, and he seems of a cohesive mind, I don't buy his complete lack of emotion (other than his annoyance at the noise.) I have no reason to care about this character because he displays nothing relatable or identifiable.

If you want to display his actions without touching upon emotions than it would work better from an outside view point rather than his internal POV. He's clearly a psychopath, but psychopaths have complicated emotions just like the rest of us. A sociopath still has emotions and a fear of death. His killing is calm and calculated, so he's not mentally insane. We need to know what the character is feeling - and with this level of chaos around him, I don't buy his mild reaction to it. But all in all it was a fun read.

Best of luck with your writing and many thanks for sharing this!

[LapseOfMind]

Cj, thank you very much for the critique. When it comes to my fiction I always welcome constructive criticism. That way I can work to hone my craft instead of floundering about, thinking I'm doing better than I am. I will definitely take your words to heart on future writings. Thank you

[TheMalady]

Oh my goodness. This is so twisted. Psychological. I bet this guy had a lot of stress, hallucinated that the noise could be from a revolution. It's just my impression. Anyway, I like how you drawn his character. I can imagine it to be a cool guy with a very calm frame of mind.

Just some minute points to reconsider.

- '...I was never one for watching the news so I couldn't tell exactly why their was a revolution...' Should be '...I was never one for watching the news so I couldn't tell exactly why there was a revolution...'


Thank you for sharing your story. I really like it. I was really laughing while I was reading this. I am really amused. Thanks a lot! Keep on writing! :)

[LapseOfMind]

Thank you for reading and for the critique, I greatly appreciate it. It helps so much to have others read through and point out spots that I don't notice that need tightening up. Again, thank you

[Cyndy Robinson]

I can't say I like this piece. It hits to close to home and whom I work with. No fault of your own. You did an excellent job of portraying a psychopath.

[LapseOfMind]

I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it but thank you for the compliment.

[McBear]

Ah, I enjoyed this writing. Very well done! Just a small suggestion;

For the places where you use sound effects, do you think there is a way you could show that they are sound effects a little better? I don't mean to nit-pick, just caught my eye.

About his thoughts.. do you think you could make a way so it is more obvious he is thinking something and not saying it aloud to himself? Just suggestions :)

[LapseOfMind]

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. All pertinent suggestions, something for me to mull over. I was unsure about this story when I wrote it and didn't revise or edit it before uploading. It definitely could use some work, that's for sure! Thanks for the suggestions

[McBear]

Yeah, my pleasure!

[Raynedog]

I like the set up here for what your trying to do. Personally I'd like to get a date and time reference in there early on. I was distracted by wondering if it was current, future, or past.
The ending seems to elude to a more delusional state of the MC which I think can be played up more during the duration.
I like to believe that there was no revolution or riot at all and these were people going about their day and this guy just flips out and starts murdering people.

[LapseOfMind]

You nailed it. The revolution was all in his head and he just flips and starts killing people. Thanks for reading it and leaving a review!