4 comments

Fiction

I wasn’t chosen to pull the trigger but would do so had my number been called.

Surprisingly after all the years of despair and decline we had kept the tradition of the weekly lottery. Each week the country tuned in to hear the cheery voice announce the winning numbers. Unknown to the public, the first number called last week determined who would do the deed. If no one had an exact match, whoever was closest was tagged it, the one to assassinate the dictator.

We had little time to waste and a lot of moving pieces as the country slept ignorantly through the last night before the attack. My plane landed without incident. Trying to get a few hours’ sleep proved futile as jet lag reared its ugly head.  

Giving up on any shut eye, I pulled a hoody over my protective vest and ventured out to explore the city, my new city. The assignment was simple, the instructions were clear. I had a lot to absorb before becoming Head of State. The best way to get started would be feet on the street.

The fifty states were still the fifty states; however, the names replaced by numbers. Similarly, our names as the new government officials were reduced down to a mere initial. No longer Sophie I was simply S. In my mind I thought of myself as Essy, changing the one letter into a nickname of sorts. This was my secret not to share as compliance was of utmost importance. 

Strangely enough I received State 37 which correlated to my age but had no bearing on the assignment. I was to be Head of State and any silly schoolgirl notion of coincidence was inconsequential.

The years of suffering under the dictatorship drove our group to extreme actions. If there was any chance at all of turning things around, bringing back civility and justice it could only be without him in power.  Slowly morphing the position of president into dictator, he eliminated term limits and voting procedures until the country was completely under his thumb.  Original peaceful gatherings fell on deaf ears, leading to more aggressive protests met with swift consequences. The public feared for their lives under the intense watchful eye while rioting grew into commonplace events. Feeling as though there was nothing to lose brazen acts were carried out and immediately met with severe punishment. The country had become a hostile and dangerous environment.

Turning off thoughts and emotions I walked the cobblestone streets under the light of the half moon. This was Anywhere, USA, the small town once quaint now abandoned and shattered, the shell of Americana. Not for long. The new secretly appointed Heads of States were all landing in their numbered states like synchronized swimmers entering into pools of deep black water.

Broken glass crunched beneath my feet alerting nocturnal creatures of my arrival. I would have to be more careful to draw zero attention to myself until ready.  

Dismayed to see the level of destruction, I knew despair must run deep in the local residents. Garbage littered the streets. Wet, slimy film covered the once beautiful cobblestone. Missing glass formed menacing gaping holes allowing me to see little to no inventory on the still standing shelves. Upon my formal introduction to State 37 my team would go door to door taking notes to prepare detailed reports. Breathing life back into my city as quickly as possible was the first of many goals.

One particular storefront on Main Street caught my eye with the front windows intact and the door shut tightly, clean, and neat. Scanning the street, it was the only structure still intact. I approached, turned the knob, and found it locked. Good. Quickly assessing the situation, I deemed this to be my headquarters. Although I had until dawn to radio in the address, I did so immediately upon making my decision. 

Looking up I saw second floor windows. After carefully surveying over my shoulder, I felt confident that no eyes were upon me.  I slid the knife out from the side of my boot to jimmy open the door and I entered. It was empty, swept clean by the previous owners whoever they might have been. Letting my eyes adjust to the dim light from the moon I focused on the flight of stairs and went up silently. Pleased to find the second floor cleared as well, I arranged my few pieces of furniture into a living arrangement in my mind’s eye. It would do just fine, I concluded.

Rather than take any chances of returning to the streets I removed my small bag from beneath the bulk of my hoody and emptied the pockets of my vest.  Settling down into the corner of the room furthest away from the window I slowly exhaled. 

“Please let it go as planned.” I silently prayed for the safety of my new government as we were mere hours away from the transition. “Give us strength.”  Knowing in my heart there were enough citizens who silently believed in our cause gave me assurance that they would support us wholeheartedly as we reshaped the country. The crime, of course, would be shocking, punishable by death. A double murder in reality would transpire; one against the dictator and the other against the assassin. The seriousness had been discussed at length, all fully informed and all in agreement. 

Realizing my hunger, I slowly ate an energy bar while reviewing every last detail over and over in my mind like an actor doing his final dress rehearsal just hours before show time. Unpacking my meager belongings from my bag made me feel grounded in my new home, gave me comfort. However, realizing the vulnerability of leaving these items exposed I quickly returned all but one back into hiding. It wasn’t time, I couldn’t take any chances yet.

I unfurled the flag, the precious stars and stripes from yesteryear. Careful not to let it touch the floor keeping with tradition and etiquette I draped it over the top of the door letting it hang until it was ready to see the light of day. It wouldn’t be much longer. 

“Essy 37, allow yourself a few hours sleep,” I instructed myself, curled up in the corner with one hand on the knife handle, the other under my cheek as a pillow. Only a few hours of sleep would be enough to chase away the jet lag and prepare me for the new day.

November 12, 2023 18:47

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4 comments

Andrea Corwin
05:42 Nov 22, 2023

I love the description at the end of swimmers: The new secretly appointed Heads of States were all landing in their numbered states like synchronized swimmers entering into pools of deep black water. I wanted more of this story; consider adding to it, it’s good!

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Hannah Lynn
16:25 Nov 22, 2023

Thank you so much, Andrea! I actually have been thinking of adding more to this story, the ideas are taking form! 😊

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Tom Skye
18:15 Nov 13, 2023

Chilling work, Hannah. It is impossible not to align this with various regimes, both historical and current. You did a good job depicting the dystopian situation, while still humanizing the MC (the Essy nickname, energy drink etc). Definitely the correct choice the end it open as well. Awesome work. Thanks for sharing

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Hannah Lynn
13:14 Nov 14, 2023

Thank you so much, Tom! It is truly terrifying when the wrong person gets the power. Thankfully in this story the people are taking their country back.

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