Children of the Revolution

I was lying face down in the middle of a street at two in the morning with blood dripping out both my nostrils, from my mouth and from a gash across my right eyebrow. I had a knee pressed into my lower back, pinning me into the ground. A gloved hand forcefully clutched the wet hair on my crown, straining my head and neck backwards. I laughed with glee as rain splashed my face.
“Did you think you just walk into the revolution,” her voice demanded.
She was angry. I could not wait to tell my friends about this.
Her free hand slapped the side of my head. My ear stung.
“How the heck did you find us? How did he find us?” she asked.
A pair of black biker boots belonging to a giant stepped in front of me. The massive man in them sank to his haunches with a grunt. His belly was so large it touched the asphalt, concealing his boots from my sight. The giant examined me.
I smelt his sweat. Strong. Manly. Unafraid.
“Hrmffff,” he concluded shaking his head from side to side.
“Anybody?” she asked.
I could not hear if anyone responded.
“Listen up, guys,” she said. Her grip intensified and my neck muscles started aching. “If he could find and identify us, it means that they’re onto us. He may in fact be one of them.”
“Then I guess we better kill him and get a move on,” I heard someone suggest.
I felt her weight shift on my back. It did not let up, just changed position. I heard a familiar click. Knife. Though no surprise to feel the cold steel on my throat, I panicked. This is not how it was meant to go.
“Mrrrmmmffff,” was all I managed by way of shouting out. I wriggled, but was so tightly trapped I knew I stood no chance of escape.
The blade moved into my skin. There was no pain at first. Then it came. Sharp. Excruciating. Terrifying. I could do nothing but blow snot, spittle and blood out of my mouth and nose, a wild animal in its final throes of desperation.
“Stop. I know this kid,” a voice said.
Her hand stopped. The blade was in my throat.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“Tony. Son of Michael down in Queenstown,” the voice said. It sounded familiar.
“He’s good people. Mike and I, we… Tony’s a smart kid. Maybe we should ask him how he found us.”
She pulled the blade out of my neck and in a rapid, violent move flipped me onto my back. I smelt my own urine. She was astride me, her forearm across my neck, ready to choke me. The rain, the streetlights, her angry face – God she looked beautiful. I passed out.


13 thoughts on “Children of the Revolution

  1. Indigo Spider

    Again, very dark atmospheric piece Scribbla. I really would love to see this in completion, find out the full story. You write this first chapters that just leaving me wanting more, meanie 😉

    1. screen_scribbla Post author

      And for the whole of next year I will be working on 2nd chapters, lol.
      Thanks Indigo. Each day is one day closer to starting that novel. As for NaNoWriMo – I will be in touch as soon as they announce we can write any month in the year we want. I’ll need a shoulder to cry on at the end of each day!

    1. screen_scribbla Post author

      You’re right, Kay. I think this one would have been better in the present tense. I’m glad you could extract so many elements from it as a reader. I tried to fit them in that way while writing. Thanks for letting me know.


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