Knowledge Is The Power Of Truth

• Emily Vosinthavong, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

The sharp bursts of the small cuckoo signifying the Dawn service attracted the wary gazes of the men. An effervescent breeze wafted through the crowd of uninhabited buildings, splayed with coloured walls. The march towards the Council of Truth begun as the men turned left and the Women, right.
Each foot followed the other, in a monotonous beat sensually swaying along with widened hips and gangly arms. Not one soul spoke leaving a deterred silence as the sirens flailed about and bouncing between the crowds; each enamoured with the floor, trapped in their age and clocks frozen in a timeless niche.
As soon as the marching speckles of bodies reached the altar, the heads that hung low avoiding the blaring sun rose to meet the soldiers standing stark like pillars. A dark and looming figure took a step forward as the heavily armoured men cleared a timed path. Tension filled the air as the Urban’s mimicked the stance of wary meerkats. Dust flew from the soft bursts of air littered the pavement as the sun glistened beads of sweat on each forehead, making their eyes cringe in disgust. The tall figure, hidden behind a dark shadow created by the tall buildings ahead strode towards the podium with the air of arrogance.
The crowd shuffled with impatience; sheer worry intent on their faces. The wind howled across as the clouds shuffled by the impatient sky. Nature swerved to find resistance in the men and women standing there, stark still as they were told of their impending doom. Women cried, men hollered and children lapped helplessly at their sides before a loud cracking resounded from the crowd.
“Step aside!” He bellowed as a thin break formed, opening a slit into the centre of the commotion.
A woman laid helplessly on the floor, hand clasped to the reddened and swollen face of a child. Her eyes took on a fiery glint, unaware of the people that have gathered. Stenches of blood and pus stained the howling breeze as dust kicked up beneath the feet. A scrawny and blistered man stood towered over the pair as his chest rose and fell in rabid breaths. He sauntered towards the profusely crying child and tore her from the other women. The sheer look of guilt and fear flashed through her olive complexion before returning to the blank gaze she held.
“This kid is mine! S-he has no need for a petty Wo-man!” He growled, anger seeping into the crowd.
Suddenly, as if in a trance, the segregation broke into chaos. The turmoil being witnessed was astonishing. Men hollered around women, tearing their clothing and filling all of their desires as the children huddled helpless across the crowds watching with beady eyes. Tear stricken faces and angry blasts consumed the crowds into a great beast with multiple heads. Pandemonium reigned freely until the man with the booming voice ushered to the heavily armoured men.
“Terminate ALL of them!”