The Burning Of The Monuments

This Short Story has some graphicly violent description. This is not meant to offend anyone or threaten anyone.

The four old men’s faces, carved into the cliff, were burning. Men were doing it. This cliff, this mountain. He climbed the burning rock. The devices were hot. He placed one on the first, then the second, third, and forth. He climbed down.

“Now who want to see some stone melt.” said the man. The people cheered. Lump…Lump…Lump…Lump…Lum-THUMP…lump…lum-THUMP…lump…lum-THUMP…lump…lum-THUMP. The cliff Burnt. The man’s friend stepped up.

“This will show those Aristocrats in D.C That the Cascadian Liberation Front is not a joke.” said the man’s friend.

“Yes, comrade it will.” Said the man “And we won’t just collapse D.C but Tokyo, and London, and Beijing, and all of the capitols, we will free them all, by there own volition, of course. Humans will not need to go back to the stone age. But we will be free.”

“All will live in complete freedom.” said the man’s friend.

He stood atop the redeemer, with the device.

“Are you ready to see our first religion fall,” said a man

“Sim!” screamed the crowd. The man looked out upon the city for the final time. I Hope the Peoples Andes And Amazon Liberation Army will succeed. He held his hands in a bind pose. Let me be your martyr.

“You will live in equality, for my life.” He exclaimed. Our system is broken we must… Destroy the system not just governments but Hierarchy. Thought the man as a ball of fire blew the head of the redeemer. The arm crumbled. People cheered.

“Nosso mártir!” screamed the people “Nosso mártir!” chanted the crowd exempt one he sat there nearly unnoticeable. Commies. Thought the man

The light blue statue, holding the torch, had fallen and all buildings in a 15 km area were on fire. A woman was standing in front of the exchange holding a flamethrower and a device. Flame for the old way, the new way is free, no the true way is free. She thought as she started burning. She charged into the “building.

“Please, spare us.” said an accountant holding his daughter.

“You were one with the old way,” said the woman

“Yes, you said it your self, were.” Said the accountant.

“were, exactly, were.” Said the woman as she pulled out her knife. “You or your daughter.”

“Me.” Said the man. “Mummy will be here soon princess; daddy has to go he can’t stay here.”

“No, I am sorry.” The woman said as she plunged the knife into the father’s chest, quickly removing it.

“Daddy. Mean lady you hurt Daddy, he had to go somewhere.” said the daughter.

“You wont be hurt… Princess, your mother will be here soon” said the woman. The girl grabbed her fathers head

“Daddy, are you okay? Daddy, please wake up.” The girl repeated. The woman walked out into the hall. She saw a lady walking thought the hall.

“Gregoery? Katneiss? Where are you?” said the lady

“My condolences,” said the woman “I would escape with your daughter, she’s in the next room, I promised not to hurt her.”

“Katneiss, oh princess I’m so happy you’re hear.” The woman heard form the other room “We have to leave though this widow ladder.” She continued walking to the exchange floor. I hope that they escape. She past burning halls and screaming people until she reached the floor. She pulled out the device. Death to the old ways, only records and fictions shall remain. She exploded the device. Fire rang out from the old way. Fire for the ways of our predecessors.

The Neo-classical pillars were falling, this had not happened since 1812.The rest of the small city had already been looted this stronghold was all that was left. They had no time to evacuate anyone, or anything. Among the crowd of looters descending on the home of the leader of what was once the most powerful nation in the world, was a man, he was not looking to steal money or take hostages, he was hoping on burning portraits, desks and money. But he was hellbent on burning two documents, a declaration, and a constitution.

“Comrades,” said a guard before he was stoned to death. This mob was angry. Tear gas had been dropped onto them only two days prior. They descended into this white marble house with vigour. Guards who had not been paid for weeks joined in, that wasn’t just two or three guards, it was all of them. Alone a single man walked into the lowest floor. He scratched the faces off the 46 pictures and portraits. When he reached the end of the hall he grabbed two documents. He slowly strode to the top of this house. I wonder if the hostage is already there?

“Sir the special guest is at the top.” those words echoed throughout the stairway.

“Good.” Responded the man. “Grab the bat.” The man began rasping up the stairs with the documents. When he reached the top he proclaimed “Friends, comrades, allies, we have their leader and their founding documents. Shall we burn the old way?” he asked.

“Yes!” cheered the crowd.

He started by Pouring gasoline on the declaration.

He then asked the hostage. “Are you ready for your nation to lose it’s independence.”

The hostage then seemed extremely destressed. The leader of the mob then through it onto a pile, he took the Constitution and read the first line out loud.

We The People.” He said before he through it on the pile. Then he doused them in gasoline. He struck a match. The documents lit up like black butterflies.

“Do what you wish with the old way’s president.” The leader said as he tossed the hostage to the crowed. Blood flew out of the crowed, the hostage’s skull was crushed in.

The old hill, inside a larger city, once home to the old way’s smallest country, it and all of it’s history, would be destroyed. He walked through the once great halls, tiled images of their prophet being crucified plastered on all of the walls. “Who would want to worship something like this?” asked the man but he knew the answer the, ancients obviously, they would believe anything. He started by grabbing and igniting a torch. Then he ignited the halls. He continued walking through the short streets. Then he reached the Holy See, with the Pope on sitting on it. A crowed formed around him. He grabbed the Pope.

“Crowed what should we do with this man?” asked the man.

“Execution!” cheered the crowed.

“In witch way?” asked the man “Fire, Drowning, firing squad?”

“Fire.” Chanted the crowed.

“How ‘bout burning at the stake?” asked the man. “As the patriarchal, hierarchical religion that he is the leader of.”

“Yes!” screamed the crowed. They then set it up and tied the Pope to the stake.

“Can I have the honour of destroying this religion?” the man asked. The crowed didn’t answer out loud but clearly mean yes. He held up a match and lit the wood underneath the Pope. His skin flaked of then his flesh burnt off then his bones crackled crumbling. Over all of this loud torture one could only hear extremely loud screeching.

They swarmed through the building in Westminster, now connected to London. Slashing the esophagus of the M.Ps, suffocating them all. He moved to the chair at the end of the hall, igniting it.

“Where is the P.M? All of the other M.Ps are here. If we can’t find him in thirty minutes then we will burn the building, does that sound ok?” asked a leader.

“Yes.” said the crowed.

They walked through the halls looking for the P.M. they wouldn’t find him. So, they moved out of the building leaving the corpses outside of the building.

“Shall we cremate the M.Ps?” asked the leader.

“Yes.” Shouted the crowed

He lit the corpses. Many thought they heard coughing from the clock tower.

“Now let’s light Parliament.” Said the leader out loud especially loudly.

“No please don’t!” screamed a voice from the clock tower. The leader then set the building ablaze. Many heard screams of “I’d have death before my country destroys it’s self.”

By This Time The old Way Was Extinct,

The Only Thing Left Of The Old Way Was

Their Fiction.