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Ever had your heart broken? [2014WC]

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posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:31 PM
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"Keep your head down, and hold your hands open to the side."

She nodded, the mud-caked dirt clinging to her visage. It was her way of hiding her youth, and her gender. Earthly the disguise, beauty underneath. After California and the San Andreas Rupture, and 3 millions lives lost when the quake hit and a whole state sunk into the ocean, Obama declared Martial Law. There was no election, and he remained in power, and martial law was never lifted. The economy, precariously balanced, collapsed. Cities fell, and the only "safe zones" were the areas unpopulated.

We walked slowly, through the checkpoint. Most of the guards of the government established check points didn't have bullets. They used them during the first year of chaos. It was only a remnant of protocol to walk slowly with arms open, but we still followed it.

We were almost through, when one of the guards whistled short. We stopped immediately, familiar with the whistle. To run now would to be marked for death, to comply.....

The guard came up to us, a grimy youth, probably nineteen or twenty, brandishing his weapon proudly before him. Bullets or not, he acted rudely.

"Hey, we like young boys, you need to stay."

My daughter cringed. Her disguise was holding.

It was not my place to interrupt, even though I wanted. I had to let her hold her own. She had to learn survival, at eighteen, and realize reality after years of denial. There was no more TV to watch, no cars to ride in, no gas, especially after it hit seventeen dollars per gallon, and the United States was now a socialist regime.

She promptly swung, and hit the kid in the jaw, flipping his head backwards as he collapsed on the ground. The other two guards laughed, and we shuffled along through the checkpoint, with the unwary guard passed out on the ground. I looked at her, and chuckled, and she grinned back at me.

The next checkpoint wasn't so kind. The last had apparently radioed ahead of us.

They stopped us, and stripped our clothes. His gender was realized, and many servicemen took turns raping her as I refused to watch but forced to listen from my constrained bonds within the camp. My blood seethed revenge, helplessly, and I wept softly, not just for the violations of her young body, but for the cruelty of mankind.

As tears flowed, and I sobbed, she remained silent throughout her assault.

They let us go in the morning, and gave us extra water to boot. I seethed with rage, my flesh warm, burning within. We were silent for several miles.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" I kept looking ahead, ashamed.

"It's just us now."

"I know."

I looked at her, finally, overcoming my inability to keep her safe.

She smiled back at me.

We stopped walking at that point, and I hugged her with all my lost dignity.

"I'm sorry." The tears flowing down my cheeks prevented any further words, and I just held her.

We stood there, in the middle of the road, an embrace between father and daughter, both sobbing gently.....

....and healing.




posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:38 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


Dear Druid42,

Politics aside, I think you captured an emotion that one would feel in such a situation. F&S.



posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:42 PM
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That made me cry.......excellent writing....



posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:46 PM
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Most of us have kept the pain of our visions distant. Your story brings it home. Very well written, disturbing story.

S&F



posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:51 PM
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reply to post by AQuestion
 


Thank you.

I was trying to capture a moment.



posted on Sep, 6 2012 @ 11:52 PM
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reply to post by MountainLaurel
 


Thanks for stopping by. I'm glad you liked my humble story.




posted on Sep, 7 2012 @ 12:00 AM
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reply to post by coven83
 


I'm glad you liked it. I was trying to draw emotion from my readers, and as such, perhaps succeeded.

I have another story to add. Stay tuned.



posted on Sep, 7 2012 @ 12:10 AM
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Originally posted by Druid42
reply to post by AQuestion
 


Thank you.

I was trying to capture a moment.


Dear Druid42,

You did capture a moment and quite well and with so few words. Almost poetry more than writing. I look forward to your next story.



posted on Sep, 7 2012 @ 09:28 AM
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That was horrible to read. Beautifully written, but the emotion....

Well done. Now I have to go curl in a corner....



posted on Sep, 7 2012 @ 10:26 AM
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reply to post by smyleegrl
 


It appears I'm doing my job, then.

Thanks for dropping by.



posted on Sep, 7 2012 @ 10:26 AM
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dbl post. oops.
edit on 9/7/12 by Druid42 because: yeah, that.



posted on Sep, 10 2012 @ 12:07 PM
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I'm curled up in the corner across from Smyleegrl. A very compelling, disturbing (and rightly so) read. A dad's worst nightmare. Well done!



posted on Sep, 10 2012 @ 09:42 PM
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reply to post by graceunderpressure
 


I truly appreciate your words. Thanks for reading.
(You gals need to get out of the corner, and write more!)

Good competition this month, lots of excellent stories.
edit on 9/10/12 by Druid42 because: had to add "the"



posted on Sep, 10 2012 @ 10:13 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


Beautifully tragic..............something that is relateable in that which is this life's experience.



posted on Sep, 10 2012 @ 10:47 PM
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reply to post by Egyptia
 


Tragedy is the essence of drawing emotion from your reader, at least within the parameters of the title.

Thanks for stopping by, I liked your comment. Brief, but descriptive.



posted on Sep, 30 2012 @ 05:48 PM
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this one disturbed me. Good job writing, but the story was a trifle rough.



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