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View Full Version : (May '16) Prompt #1 - "Genocide"



Kris
05-04-2016, 12:17 PM
May's 1st prompt is "Genocide"



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m139
05-31-2016, 11:04 AM
Genocide
Part Two of the May Series

Part 1 (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=81255&p=2786190&viewfull=1#post2786190) ~ Part 3 (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=81254&p=2786193&viewfull=1#post2786193)


Dr. Redner was one of those people, who, before writing anything for anyone else, first wrote something for himself. What he wrote for himself rarely was seen by any other eyes but his own, but these little write-ups received jus as much, if not more, care and editing as did those formal reports. And it was these informal bits of writing, not the published work, that filled the filing cabinets along the wall in his office. For these works were more free than the written works, which had to be filed for an audience who only wanted to read a few things. And, although he could not have said his writing offered a complete, holistic paper, he would say that they certainly offered a much broader picture than most cared to even look at, and some even hated.

However, the man in his office with him today was not most people, but was rather one of the privileged few to whom Dr. Redner occasionally showed his work. And as the man took a seat in front of a rather aged mahogany desk, it looked like this was what the Dr. Redner was going to do.

"So, Bill," began Dr. Redner, as he bent down slowly to open a particular drawer, "The one I'm going to show you today is from twenty years or so back. She was a survivor of the first of the attacks by the Freemen, or so they called themselves. You remember, well, at least you heard of the attack on the Buendler Building." Here he looked up, and after Bill had nodded, he pulled out a particular manila folder, somewhat thin, and began walking to where the other sat.

"So," Dr. Redner continued, "her name was Hannah- Hannah Bradly- and this is her story.

Bill took the folder, and as he opened it, three small copies of photos, as well as a CD fell out. He knew what the CD was for- that would be the audio recording, but as for the pictures? He looked up at Dr. Redner questioningly, but before he could form the words, Dr. Redner answered.

"Oh, I got those copies by pulling a few strings here and there. They were taken by a conveniently close nearby film crew. And confiscated, later. They are not released publicly. But you know how one can get their hands on these things."

Bill nodded, picked up the pictures, glanced briefly at the top one, which captured the moment just after the missiles had hit, when the buildings were just starting to crumble. Then, setting them aside, he began to read through the account. The background of the story was quite simple: the Freemen, as the group called itself had decided on that particular day in May, to finally carry out the attack that they had been threatening for years. No one had realized they actually would have done it, or even had had the resources. But they had. And on that particular day, they carried out a genocide against the leading "greedies"- as they called them- in societies all over the world. And one of these - "greedies" just happened to be William F. Buendler V, whose office was on the top of the building named after his great-great-great grandfather. And so, that was where one of the missiles was sent, despite all those who were not William F. Buendler V and would be affected by it anyways.

And here was the narrative, told by this Hannah. concerning the attack as she experienced it.

It was always interesting, reading one of these narratives. While any textbook could give you the facts and figures, there were very few things that could tell you exactly what happened in the hearts and minds of the people which it happened to. And although Dr. Redner never made any direct claim, there was feeling in his writing, and the paper became more than a lifeless sheet. Now, it was as if it were a pair of glasses through which the user could see the events through Hannah's eyes.

He saw how it all began. She was in her cubicle, chatting with a coworker about trivial stuff. Then, someone came running down the hall. They had just heard some terrible news from somewhere or another. There was silence in the office. Everyone would have liked to have laughed at it as a mere story, but the look in that man's eyes seemed to say that at least he believed it. For a moment, there was the tense stillness of the silence. Then, the fire alarm went off. And everyone panicked.

The noise then was immense- add the shouts of scrambling people to the sound of the alarms, and add to that the sound of people dialing frantically on cell phones on the slim chance that they might get through, and add this to the pounding of the feet.

Hannah was one of those who immediately took to the stairs. And by the time she got there, well, it was already pretty darn crowded. Somehow, she managed to squeeze, run, and trip her way down to the bottom. She was one of the lucky ones, never exactly fully falling. Those who fell, well, there was a good chance they would never get up again, as the many panicked feet trampled over both concrete and prone bodies indiscriminately.

Outside, it was no better. People were fleeing not only from the Buenderler building, but from pretty much any high-rising building around. And the chaos of people running not sure where, cars trying to get out of parking lots, and general panic, well, Hannah somehow found herself near an old parking garage when the missiles hit.

One could hear them as they whizzed through the air overhead and struck the buildings. She watched the skyline until there was nothing left of it but smoke and sky.

And then, she broke down and cried. There really was not much else to do. It was not like she could call home or anything, and her home was some thirty miles away, through the smoke and such. And public transportation through this area could be considered pretty much as totaled as her car most likely was.

It was only after the tears had ran her course that she began to walk in the other direction, away from the smoke, away from something that had been home, as she hoped for something that might resemble humanity in the clear daylight.