Patriots Path [STT2017]

Standing naked in front of the mansion he thought about how little he enjoyed time travel, curse his friend Ben and that infernal device he concocted. Wisps of smoke still trailed from his head and shoulders, residue from his journey from the past, while a westering sun cast fading rays over the whitewashed roof and dome of the structure and illuminated it from behind with an unearthly golden outline. It was good to be home.

Walking towards a nearby ancient poplar he located the carefully hidden hollow in its base and retrieved a dusty waterproof sack containing some fresh clothing. Until his comrade could devise a method to traverse the time stream with inanimate objects the strategic stashing garments was one of the pieces of time travelling advice his colleague had provided.

Quickly dressing he recalled a quote from a well-known writer, ‘Clothes make the man, naked people have little to no influence in society’. I need to look him up again after this, witty fellow, he thought. Pulling on his boots he reached one last time into the sack and then strode purposefully towards the mansion’s front door, its familiar colonnaded portico rising gracefully before him. A large, and somewhat rusted steel key now dangled from a cord in his hand. They never did change the locks, ever, God bless historic preservation.

The interior of his old home lent a familiar comfort, but he was not here for comfort. Locating his old secretary in the library he opened its front and then quickly released the secret clasp that snapped open a hidden panel on the back of the fixture. He pulled a long leather container from its recess and opened it to retrieve what he came for.

The brittle parchment document was still legible when he unfurled it. A wave of nostalgia and of reminiscent admiration washed over him as he scanned the signatures of his many, many friends. Heading back towards the entrance he pinioned the document beneath the knocker which held it in place. No need to damage you, old friend, they will get the message, he thought and then turned and headed off into the night.



The Capitol was close to how he had left it, albeit a bit larger and much more crowded, with families and visitors crowding the steps. The time was now, he thought, and strode resolutely up towards his goal.

“Look at the man, daddy. He’s dressed like patriot times.” Pointed a young boy standing with his mother and father at the time traveler as he sauntered past them. His period dress standing out amongst the throng of tourists dressed casually for the hot summer weather.

“Must be a reenactor, buddy, he kinda looks like…” but he was cut off by the oddly dressed man.

“Indeed, sir.” As he approached the small family. “You could say I am here to reenact one of the seminal moments in this country’s past but I would be remiss if I were to state to you that it would be completely accurate from a historical perspective, although the hope is the result is the same.”

“What are you gonna reenact, Mister?” the boy asked inquisitively and with genuine interest.

“Why, my dear child,” he began and the knelt next to his questioner, “once, our great nation was oppressed and beschackled, subservient to a power not in our own control, without voice or recourse for Justice and Liberty. We threw off that foul yoke and laid the framework for Property and Freedom.”

His voice became somber and was touched by a tinge of sadness as his placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Yet here we all stand now,” his other hand waving in the expanse of the National Mall, “oppressed once again, yet this time by ourselves, no less, and at the mercy of greed, laziness and the gulf of disparity between those who create the Law and those who must follow it or suffer the harshness of an unfair Justice.”

“The people are the government, my son, the People, and you must remember this day, not for fireworks and parades, but as the day that those who came before you again handed the keys of Freedom to you and your children to cherish and to preserve for all time.”

The boy nodded wordlessly as the man rose and, ever so slightly, tipped his tricorn hat, then turned and continued his journey up the Capitol steps.

He marched into the Senate Chamber like he belonged there, the session already in progress, but no one paid him any heed at first until he was nearly half way down the center aisle to the podium.

“Hey,” cried some junior Senator from Oregon, interrupted in the middle of a banal speech on why the Congress needed to fund a project to study the mating habits of Pacific Manatees, “who the hell are you?”

“That one.” He replied matter-of-factly while pointing to a marble bust in the second-floor visitor’s gallery.

The Senator’s mouth hung open like some moronic carp while the oddly-dressed intruder walked resolutely up to the podium and shoved him, not ungently, aside.

“Take a seat, your time limit is over.”

“Order! Order in the Senate Chamber!” Cried the Pro-Temp standing up behind the podium and pounding his gavel into the mahogany block.

“Shut up, you mackerel snapper!” Retorted the brazen interloper while snatching the gavel out of the Pro-Temp’s shocked hand and striking him a violent blow in the ear which sent him sprawling. The Senate Sargent-at-Arms came charging towards him, fists raised, and was met with an equally ferocious strike leaving him incapacitated. A sardonic grin crossed his lips as he mused that in his day, the Sergeant-at-Arms was a real sergeant who carried a gun, not like this fopdoodle who came running at him barehanded. They may actually do this, he chuckled inwardly, as he dropped the Senior Senator from New York who tried to pull him from the rostra.

“We gave you lumberworts independence and this is where you take it?” The gavel struck again and again to punctuate his declaration. “A bunch of poltroons bickering over who will be the first to get their paymaster’s laws passed? You have permitted banking institutions to become more dangerous than a standing army!” he cried as the gavel found the head of the Senate Majority Leader. “The People are beholden to interests not of their own!” the shout reverberated in the Chamber as the gavel connected with the Senator from California, blasting her out of her heels.

“When in the course of human events,” he roared, “it becomes necessary for one people to beat the ever-loving bejeezus out of another,” the gavel continued its bloody assault (I don’t think they can muster a super majority now, he mused) “we hold these Truths to be self-evident!” *wham* “That whenever any form of government,” *pow* “becomes destructive of these ends,” *crunch* “it is the right of the People,” *splat* “to alter or to abolish it,” *smash* “and to institute a new government!”

The corpses were pilled like stove wood around him, yet they still pressed on, their political paradigm being challenged by one who laid the groundwork of greatness so many years ago. Breathing heavily from his liberating exertions he thought it would be a noble death to fall here, in a place erected to Liberty, Freedom and Equality, while those opposed to it fell like wheat before the scythe of patriotism.

They remaining Senators were preparing to make their final and overwhelming last charge when the doors of the Chamber burst open and in spilled a host of men, fresh from the battle.

“Ho! Thomas!” cried one of them, the blood and hair-covered Mace of the House of Representatives being twirled casually in his hand. “Perchance you could use our assistance?” he called with a slight bit of humor in his voice. “We cannot let history say you gave the People independence on your own yet again.”

“John, George, James, Alexander! Aye!” he called in return. “Join me, Brothers. Give us liberty,” he said, standing erectly before the alter of Freedom, and levelled the gavel at the traitors from his right hand. He finished with a hiss, “and give them death!”

It wasn’t the first time they had built a nation, he thought, standing with gavel poised to strike as he watched his compatriots charge into the fray, and it might not be the last, but by God, they would certainly try and the Tree of Liberty would surely drink from the blood of Patriots today.

THE END

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

It is absolutely fantastic!

"I hold it, that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical."

Competition is stacking up once again
Excellent story Augustus.

a reply to: TNMockingbird

Thank you, glad you liked it since you are the one who told me to submit it.

Very nice! I thoroughly enjoyed it!

a reply to: FauxMulder

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

your a good writer

wonder what other hidden talents you have ?

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Ok this is one amazing story s/f

a reply to: Jdennis10

Thanks, glad you liked it.

originally posted by: kibric
your a good writer

wonder what other hidden talents you have ?

Skilled boucher?

Crime scene restoration?

a reply to: TNMockingbird

Where's your story?

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

You are getting too many flags and stars. LOL
Why aren’t women allowed into Freemasonry?
Imagine telling your wife that you had a Worshipful Mistress in the Lodge!
I think with your writing you are a famous author.

originally posted by: Jdennis10
I think with your writing you are a famous author.

Yeah, I'm E.L. James.

a reply to: Jdennis10

They kind of have woman

Concordant rites exist with the blessing and often the active support of regular masonic lodges. There are several concordant bodies in the United States which admit the wives and female relatives of Freemasons. The Dutch Order of Weavers admits only the wives, while in the American orders the men and women share in the ritual. Like the lodges of adoption, they have their own ceremonies, which means that some grand lodges view them as irregular.

Order of the Eastern Star In 1850, Rob Morris created the Order of the Eastern Star for Freemasons and their female relatives. Often classed as an adoptive rite, its ritual is based on the Bible. It continues to flourish in the United States of America, and maintains a presence in Scotland.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

That was so creative and moving. I am so glad I read it.

a reply to: reldra

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Ahhhh. This story brought little tears to my eyes, not because it was sad in any way, but because it is so well written!

“We gave you lumberworts independence and this is where you take it?” The gavel struck again and again to punctuate his declaration. “A bunch of poltroons bickering over who will be the first to get their paymaster’s laws passed? You have permitted banking institutions to become more dangerous than a standing army!” he cried as the gavel found the head of the Senate Majority Leader. “The People are beholden to interests not of their own!” the shout reverberated in the Chamber as the gavel connected with the Senator from California, blasting her out of her heels. 

“When in the course of human events,” he roared, “it becomes necessary for one people to beat the ever-loving bejeezus out of another,” the gavel continued its bloody assault (I don’t think they can muster a super majority now, he mused) “we hold these Truths to be self-evident!” *wham* “That whenever any form of government,” *pow* “becomes destructive of these ends,” *crunch* “it is the right of the People,” *splat* “to alter or to abolish it,” *smash* “and to institute a new government!” 

I laughed and laughed and read this part three times!!! This IS what it would take, isn't it? Thomas Jefferson himself, barging into the room and just knocking everyone out. We have forgotten who we are, who we are meant to be and at this point in time, only the original Americans could make us remember. Ugh. It's a shame I don't think this could ever happen lol

S&F

a reply to: PageLC14

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Loved it. I love the concept of the forefathers coming back to beat the living snot out of modern so called patriots.

originally posted by: Kali74
Loved it. I love the concept of the forefathers coming back to beat the living snot out of modern so called patriots.

I would love anyone to be the snot out of them.

Thanks for liking it my friend.