oneword.com

“-And I will ensure that the proper amount of chaos will ensue from the organization’s private–” Ethan tuned out the presentation with a yawn. Surely there was more to government work than this? He had signed up for so much more. Where was all the political intrigue? The backdoor deals? The whispered secrets?

A mumbling voice interspersed with coughs and wheezing gasps.
A mumbled confession of something not quite friendship, but not quite anything less.
The mumbling grumble as the engine started up and decided it wasn’t quite worth the effort.
The sweet, silence that remained after they had finally parted.

The welfare of the people was the highest priority. The welfare of the needy was their main target. This was a society where everyone got the help they needed. Where everyone deserved the help they got.
Where everyone was equal, though some were more equal than others.

All men are to be punished for their own sins.
A nice sentiment, I suppose, but rather impractical.
Or perhaps, merely impossible.
You cannot punish only one person, not when everyone is connected.
How can you punish just one man for stealing grain, when your punishment would affect the man’s family as well?

It was the ever-present smudge of paint on her cheek that he fell in love with. It said so much about her, from her determination in finishing a job once started, to her spacy attitude towards life. It was her light-hearted smile and her absent-minded actions. It was the way she would unthinkingly brush her hair from her face and laugh at herself in the mirror later. It was the way she would hold paint-loaded brushes in her mouth, heedless of the flecks of color that would coat her lips. It was everything about her soul, everything about her that he grew to love.

The plague was an accident. Really. It simply didn’t make sense. There had always been rumors that certain… indecencies would cause plagues, but science had proven those rumors to be false! How could this have ever happened?

The bronze idol had meant many things to me over the years. When I had first received it, it was a joke of sorts. A souvenir a friend had brought back. Then I had looked up the religion out of curiosity. Who would create such a strange animal? A scorpion’s tail, a wolf’s head, a cat’s claws, and a snake’s body? It was one of the stranger things I had seen at the time, though that did not mean much back then. The religion itself was primitive. A god of fire and conflict. Not the most creative, or the most interesting, but it certain kept me alive throughout the days when depression struck.

Harsh words and broken laughter and oh so much blood. Pooled everywhere, filling the air with it’s metallic tang. Had he not known some of the victims here, he would have considered it a work of art. A visceral, terrifying piece of art, but beautiful all the same. But he had known these men. Had fallen in love with these children. Watched those women with envious eyes. He had known these families and the loss was a calamity that shook him to the very core.
Revenge? No.
What he had in mind was something far worse than such.

His boots represented much about himself. Practical, worn, and scuffed but taken care of. He was practical, weather-beaten, and blunt, but he had a warm side to him and everyone under his protection knew they were safe.

“Beware, little one. Beware. Not all beings are as they appear.”
Beware what? I always wondered what she was warning me against. Rapists? Muggers? I knew everyone here and those that I didn’t know never stayed around long enough for me to worry.
I never thought she could be warning me about myself.