BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEE-
Anna Durand’s head snapped backwards as the alarm clock mere inches away from her previously napping head exploded into its usual cacophonous belching of synchronized sounds.
Her eyes, still glazed over from last night, groggily came back into focus as the alarm continued to whine in a seemingly nonstop loop.
Finally adjusting her glasses to fit around her ears, she squinted her eyes a few times as the computer screen in front of her also jolted back to life from sleep mode.
Cracking her neck sorely before stretching her fingers, she brushed off a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes before her eyes fully came into focus.
Yawning instinctively as her petite yet potent fingers caressed the keyboard, she quickly typed in the password into the login screen.
Taking a breath, she pulled up the page she had fallen asleep proofreading as her eyes pinpointed where on the document the blinking cursor was located:
Just yesterday, I was forced to watch as an SSS officer dragged a man out from the farmer’s market and threw him on the pavement before kicking the perceived fight out of him. His only crime: daring to speak of his own volition to one of the vendors on behalf of his owner who had given him permission to do so mind you.
So just for speaking, this man was beaten near half to death by an SSS officer young enough to be his daughter before the masses like some archaic form of public humiliation, then strapped to a wooden pillory where he would endure further humiliation.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a typical SSS beatdown without her removing her boots and forcing him to inhale her toxic stench, if he was even conscious at that point of course. Remember when these two-legged doggies we have now used to have actual names? You know- brother, father, son, husband….
Good times, right?
I remember those times fondly, as do many of you I’m sure. A time where the mere thought of a male asserting his bodily autonomy wasn’t subject to criminal prosecution complete with public humiliation. Granted, the male patriarchy of old Stenchlandia had a flawed leadership but at least there was some semblance of social order and equality amongst both sexes.
As opposed to now of course, where the current political party wielding an iron fist has condemned all males to a subservient quality of living based on the actions of a corrupt few. I can’t help but find parallels in our current leadership to another infamous political machine that also prosecuted and demeaned an entire subgroup of people based on the perceived actions of a few.
Pop Quiz: For those who’ve read the history books that the Feminist Republic haven't yet tainted with their ‘revisionist purity,’ what other prominent political party in the history books rose to power following a country’s fall from grace and proceeded to forever taint their country’s name by lying on their initial promises of grandeur?
Oh, Nazi Germany of course.
That’s right, and the actions of that particular party caused a world war.
So ask yourselves, people of Stenchlandia: how much more of this feminazi regime are you willing to stomach before they too plunge us in a war that we’ll never recover from?
After her eyes circled around the last word, Anna took a breath before bringing the mouse down to the send button and pressing it.
Within nanoseconds, her work was submitted to the electronic annals of the World Wide Web where it would become either legend or blasphemy, depending on who was reading it of course.
Slumping back on her chair, she sighed in the hopes that her message would reach the ears of disillusioned Stenchlandians who also longed for the seemingly anachronistic days of gender equality and democracy.
Her hope, though admirable, was fueled more by childish naivety than anything else.
After all, since she had begun making her viral entries into Stenchlandian cyberspace months ago only a few pockets of resistance against the Republic had arisen. Many were stamped out under the Republic’s proverbial and literal boot immediately, with even fewer persisting long enough to vanish into the night.
She knew based on the website’s online traffic that people were listening but thanks to the SSS’s presence on the streets it was near impossible for them to answer her call to action in any meaningful way.
Then again, that was perhaps for the best.
Anna had already lost the one person who meant more to her than anyone else: her beloved Paul.
She had little to lose, and much to gain.
Everyone else, with their families and freedom at stake everyday, had everything to lose and nothing to gain.
Meditating on that lingering thought as she exited out of the web-page and powered down her computer, she yawned one last time before getting up out of her chair and stretching her limbs.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but sigh at her unkempt face, with her unruly black hair still untamed and the faintest signs of age marks stitched across her face. It was a face that had went through more pain and heartbreak than some people will undergo in their lifetimes.
Dragging her bare feet against her room, her right hand brushed up against the wall and traced the frame of the pinned up college diploma she had been awarded on her university commencement ceremony, a day that seemed a lifetime ago.
A swell of bittersweet nostalgia coursed through her as her eyes gazed at the academic credential that had symbolized her time at the University of Stenchlandia, her attention diverted to a happier time in her life if only for a fleeting moment before reality reared its ugly head.
Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, she looked around at her childhood room for a moment. Her bed was a mess with blankets and sheets everywhere, textbooks and magazines littered the floor, and the only area of her room even remotely organized was her computer desk for obvious reasons.
As if on cue, the sounds of male screaming outside her bedroom walls shook her out of her momentary malaise and prompted her back into action.
Five minutes later, the now refreshed Anna Durand plopped down on her bed carrying a pair of worn black flats in one hand.
Her previously unruly mane of hair was now pinned into a respectable tight bun, with her glasses polished and a thin layer of lipstick applied to her mouth.
Neck down, she wore a grey uniform that stretched from her collarbone all the way to her ankles. Undertones of black and grey clashed in the color scheme of her shirt, while a pair of black leggings constricted around her legs. Her bare feet, the designated symbol of female superiority and dominance over the male population, were shapely and dainty with her unpainted toes and narrow arches.
Speaking of...
Her nose shriveled up as she nonchalantly wiggled her toes, letting the pungent aroma of her own foot odor waft upwards into her nostrils.
Dropping the pair of used and abused flats on the ground, she reluctantly wiggled her feet into them before reaching from behind and producing a small grey cap.
A pure look of disgust and hate crossed her face as she glowered at the hat before biting her lip and putting it on.
Now standing up, she walked over to her dresser and stared contemptuously at the woman in the mirror staring back.
Once upon a time, she could look at herself without feeling an overwhelming sense of disgust.
But now, the feeling of disgust was the only thing that came to mind as she looked at what she had become.
“Anna dear, please tell me you’re still alive in there! Haven’t heard a peep from you all morning, and I would’ve assumed you’d be downright jubilant. After all, today’s the day!”
“Coming Mother! Just need a minute,” she called back, sighing to herself.
“Be careful that that minute doesn’t turn into an hour, yeah?” her mother reminded her, before continuing on to say, "You know the Academy has no toleration for tardiness."
Once, she would call all SSS officers a plethora of names: pigs, gestapo, bullies, the list goes on.
Now unfortunately, she called one of them Mother.
Cassandra Durand was a high-ranking officer of the SSS, who had enlisted voluntarily upon the police force’s inception years ago.
And throughout the years, it had become increasingly more difficult to see her mother for the kind and compassionate maternal figure she once was during her childhood as opposed to how she is now as an officer in the Stenchlandian State.
It certainly didn’t help that Anna was forced by her mother to enlist in the police force, undergoing intense training and conditioning to only now hold the novice title of ‘Cadet.’
So instead of doing something meaningful with her college education, she was now forced to become the very thing that she hates more than anything in this world.
And almost to taunt her every waking moment of each day, her college diploma remains on the wall just to show the life that she could’ve, would’ve, and perhaps should’ve enjoyed with Paul had circumstances been different.
However, if she is forced to wear the jacket of the devil the least she can do is sing with the voice of an angel from beyond her computer.
Bitterly fingering the silver C for Cadet emblazoned on the right-side of her uniform, she looked at her computer one last time before exiting the bedroom and going down the hallway to meet with her mother.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
