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(STBSS) Death of a Poet

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posted on Jul, 28 2005 @ 02:32 PM
This came to me backwards. I hope it does well.

Death of a Poet
By Voidmaster
"The line between good and bad blurred,
Those who spoke out were not heard,
God is gone, and Love is too,
Religion and creativity are frowned upon too,
Good became bad, bad was good,
They imprisoned us, I knew they would,
The Government called us alive and well,
You call this living? Asked many but died,
They did before they could as again,
We work and work for naught even a cent,
Not one of us knew what you meant,
When you said, We shall know and be known,
With no arts, crafts, or poetry I can scarcely know I've grown,
Someone knocked on the door.
David closed the book and placed it into a secret compartment. As David got up he slid the pencil he had been using behind his ear and kicked the compartment door shut. David ran down the stairs and reached for the door but it opened before he could grab he handle. "Hello, my name is E." Stated the man coldly. "I'm here to inform Mr. D that he has been found guilty of breaking curfew for the 5th time. This will result in a fine of 1500 credits. Hold out your arm." Commanded the man from behind his mustache and his horn-rimmed glasses. Sighing, David held out his arm. The android raised its mechanical arm and stapled David through his right-hand palm. "If these lights are not turned off in 5 minutes, you will be fined 2000 credits." Stated the android coldly. The android turned around and the door slammed shut by its self. David sighed angrily. The androids had been in use since 2030 but he hadn't gotten used to them yet. David also felt a desperate need to kick the next droid he saw. David turned around and walked back to his room. David sat down and looked at his calendar. It was July the 3rd of 2050. America had been like this ever since the reelection in 2008. After that no one knew who was president. It was kept confidential, along with everything else about the government from then on. David looked at his watch. 11:14 P.M. Then he switched the light off.

* * * * * * * *
"This is proof," The lawyer said while holding up a notebook. "Proof, that the Defendant was writing a novel in secret. He was found in his own home writing in this notebook. I have read the story, for court reasons, and it is stuffed with fantasy and fiction. This story is proof that he was wasting time on a story with which he could have been using to serve his nation!" David woke up. He was in a courtroom observing the daily trial that every citizen, 5 years and older, were required to watch. The lawyer was making his final argument to convince the jury that this guy had committed treason by writing a fictional story. Of course, it didn't matter what the jury decided. They were just window dressing. The real decision came from the judge. Not that the jury wouldn't agree with the judge. Oh no, no jury wouldn't agree with the judge. The last jury to do that was publicly slaughtered. There wasn't even a point to this anymore. The only punishment was execution, no matter what you did. Now the level of pain and publicity involved did change depending on what you did, but it didn't change much. The judge banged his gavel. "I declare this man, E 23454, guilty of treason, he will be sentenced to death by Crucifixion and if he lives through that, the Guillotine." 'Oh boy, this guy has got it tuff.' Thought David. David knew that this guy would be made to live through the Cruxfiction. And they would use the guillotine as the last resort. After the Crucifixion they would let this guy’s wounds fester, they'd even infect them purposely. Then hours from when this guy would have died anyway they would use the guillotine and the worst part is they would make him walk there, after both his legs had been broken. It was the 2nd to worst execution. The worst execution wasn't even mentioned among those who gave it out. No one except the judges knew what it was. David stood up. "I'd better get back to my office or I'll be in the next trial." David muttered to himself. David started walking down the hall when someone tapped him from behind. "Mr. D could you come with me please?" David turned around. It was another android. "Who sent you?"
Asked David suspiciously. "That is not of any importance. Now sir, follow me." The droid commanded with an air of disgust. David, still suspicious, followed the droid cautiously. "You are a very accomplished person, you know that Mr.D? You are afterall the leading expert on catching those with treasonous intent. Especially those who write poems. Therefore you are an indispensable asset to your community." Stated the droid with as much artificial feeling as possible. "Your point being?" Asked David who was still slightly cautious. They had just walked outside in the hot, blistering summer sun. David tripped over a rock because the sun blinded him. "Watch your step, Mr. D. I don't think you would want to wake them." David looked at the stone again. It was a gravestone. "Why are you taking me out here?" Asked David slightly afraid now. "Well, I'm taking you to meet someone." replied the android. They turned the corner. A man stood in a clearing next to an open grave. The man was holding a book and appeared to be reading it. The man turned around and addressed David. "Good poetry Mr.D." David felt a prick in the back of his neck and then darkness flowed over his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

David woke up. It was dark around him and it seemed he was inclosed in a small space. David violently shoved his hands upward. His hands hit what appeared to be a panel of wood above him. "No, it can't be." David felt around on the upward panel. He felt indentations as if some one wrote something for him. He reached for the lighter in his pocket. *sssit* The lighter lit and he read what was written on the wooden panel. It said:

"Now I threw up my arms, which had been lying at length, with the wrists crossed.
They struck a solid wooden substance, which extended above my person at an elevation of not more then 6 inches above me face. I could no longer doubt that I was reposed in a coffin at last."
Premature Burial- by Edgar Allen Poe
I thought it fitting to have this written on the underside of the lid of your coffin. I hope you rest in peace. -New World Order staff

EDIT-Sorry I had to edit my real name off of it.

[edit on 28-7-2005 by Voidmaster]

posted on Jul, 30 2005 @ 05:10 AM
Mind my speling, please, but it reminds me of Equilibrium, a film, were the government extinguished all emotion in order to maintain peace omong the world.

posted on Jul, 30 2005 @ 07:04 AM

he will be sentenced to death by Crucifixion and if he lives through that, the Guillotine.

That was cold as ice. I liked this story a lot, Voidmaster. It also reminded me of Equilibrium, which I think you'd really enjoy. It also made me think of Fahrenheit 451, where firefighters burn books instead of fight fires, but with a cool NWO feel.

What was your inspiration for writing this story? I'm always interested to know where other writers draw their ideas from. Really great writing. I look forward to reading more of your stuff.

posted on Jul, 30 2005 @ 09:27 AM
Well, as I said this story came backwards. The final scene came to me when I saw a entry in a photoshop contest. I thought of the irony of someone was buried alive for writting poetry and had on the underside of their coffin, for them to read, a section from Premature Burial by Edgar Allen Poe. So I worked the story backwards and came out with this.
This is the entry I got the final scene from:

posted on Aug, 5 2005 @ 06:32 PM
this was another of my personal favorites, I love the irony, the story itself was well written and fit two requirements very well, the dialogue and the ats part, it was vintage NWO
You scored well and probably would have scored higher in this contest if you had expanded abit on the summer theme, but I like it just the way it is. great job

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