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by Victor Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Inspirational · #1161049
About the intrinsic contradiction in a life without rules but potrayed by fiction.

Twice already she had been termed so un-coool! A cruel word used to disparage those who they feel don't belong. The blaring sound of music, the teen music blaring was charing her mind. No so much as because the thing was an aberration from sweet melody but more because it was sounding at a volume...wow! She looked around. Was she the only one suffering the ordeal!!

A few young male teens reeking drink stumbled across everything in their path, uttering obscenities. Was that cool? She wondered. An older male teen led someone her age away-to heaven no knows where and for heaven knows what-would they even use a condom!! She wondered.

Blessed with her own head squarely on her shoulders, she looked around. Someone had told her all this drunkeness, all this unsafe you know what and all, were the ultimate expression of teen cool. She sipped her orange juice, another stigma she carried. The way she saw it this was unfamiliar terrain, and such that she needed to keep her head on not lose it...

A few days later she was walking the streets of her city a better than most kind of place. It was a nice Tuesday morning she was only on the streets because school was taking time to build energy and she had...from nowhere they came running without warning. Without being told she knew this was one thing she shouldn't be seen seeing-and definitely not by them.

She scrambled into the nearest turn and hide behind a dustbin, and then peered around it to view what was going down. They were six masked men. And one would not have believed the kind of masks they wore. One wore the mask of the president of the United States, another the Queen of England, another the counselor of Gemany. Another the King of Jordan and another some African face,,,yes some African head of state she thought. Ten whole minutes she stayed glued behind that dust bin, she so badly wanted to cry, but after she had asked herself as she fretted 'Cindy what would that do for you if you cried," she chose not to.

Ten minutes later the masked sextet emerged out the bank doors, one fired his gun in the air, shouting, "ye haaah. No rules-yeah!!"
While four others put some money bags into the car. Twenty seconds flat and they were gone.

She had heard that somewhere-yes at the fracas she had attended over the weekend. No Rules! Did such a thing exist-was it in anyone’s interest. Principles for achieving good success don't exist? Fine not all rules were of any good. For some people have developed rules that are even harder than those God gave. Such rules should be gotten rid of.

Okay, you work your blood thin, for ten years, own a house have children, maybe own a couple of hard earned good things and wham! One day they burst into your house destroy all you have steal a good deal and leave you what? A well raped teen daughter!! Because they are disciples of The No Ruleszers. Even gangsters blew one another to hell and bloody gone-because some person "played" somebody-that isn't a rule.

My, life is hard enough for a teen and then guess what he or she further incapacitates himself or herself with all the addictees: alcohol, weed, crack and the rest. And those things basically rob the world of the genius that would have been.

No rules! She thought as she finally found the courage to come out from behind the dustbin. The way she saw it there were vertical and horizontal relationships. The vertical relationship was that which we can have with God. It was governed by some rules. No one ever came out right disregarding those. She just knew that.

Then there was the horizontal rules. Those bordered on our relationship as humans. She felt that should be governed by the love your neighbour as yourself principle and the do to others as you would have them do to you. But to love your neighbour as yourself-not more.

She was on her way home too shaken too go to work within the same area the robbery had taken place.
"Hey would you like to come play with us?"

They were call girls she crossed over to the other side not because she was holier than whatever-but because she couldn't tell what they would do to her if she presumptuously walked too close. And said aloud but softly, No Rules. She looked their way no so much because of contempt but more of pity, no rules. If only they had discovered some rules earlier, they would have realized some rules are like foundation stones. Others like the metal skeleton that holds the building together, while some are like the concrete that make the buildings solid, And others the pillars still others the essence that adorn to beautify a building.

Was she not a very trustworthy worker at the call center of a cell phone network. So valued, she was given a open offer? Which allowed her to go to college and still keep her job, was the amount she would soon be paid not enough to help her through college. Was that not the glory she was being adorned with-by some of the rules she lived by?

She continued walking home, her body getting over the adrenaline rush that the events of the last twenty minutes had pressed on her.

No Rules...then she saw them, could it be she wondered, no it was not she drew nearer and nearer it was them-The No Ruleszers, dead and fresh in their own blood on the concrete. The bullet wounds made by the bullets that snuffed the candles of their life still oozing blood. So soon. Naaa! There was no way anyone would get her to buy into the No Rules life. There's was not a principle for living she desired, its fruit was no one she liked and its end was not one she would ever share...
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