Theme: The North Lost the Civil War
Initial thoughts: It's really hard to think about what would have happened. So much would have changed and been different. The many problems the South faced afterwards and during reconstruction - what would those have been like for the North? Difficult, at best. From what perspective to write from? I chose a southern gent, writing about 100 years after the war, so to him, it's just the way things have always been. I didn't write it in the dialect, but was imagining Rhett Butler speaking throughout. Might be helpful if you did, too? WARNING: There are some very uncomfortable things being said here. They are not opinions - simply an exploration into the way things MAY have gone. Alternate history can be a pain, that way.
Things
have been different since the war. We
all expected they would be, but I don’t think we were prepared for this. The first and most obvious was, of course,
the move of our great capital city to Richmond.
It doesn’t seem like such a big move, but after so long in one place,
moving it just a little bit south took the heart out of the Union
supporters.
They
made a few new rules that not many people liked, but we couldn’t really stop
them now, could we? The first, and most
dangerous, depending upon how much of a supporter you were, was that if you
were caught giving support to the Union army or the Union Resistance that shot
up quickly thereafter, you could be sent to work the fields in some southern
climate. It didn’t bode all that well
for those pale cousins to the North of the Mason-Dixon Line, but it was a way
of keeping them in line pretty easily. I
only ever met one white slave in my life.
They
also put requirements on those northern states, that said they had to rebuild
the entirety of the Victorious South. It
pretty well put them into bankruptcy and made certain it would be a long time
off before they could once again think of functioning independently. That’s what they get for coming after us and
our way of life down here. So much for
Northern aggression!
But it
wasn’t long before there were a lot of folks who would come down this way,
trying to find work or other such things.
My family and I liked to try and appropriate them into the True Southern
customs, and we sometimes succeeded, but most folks down here wouldn’t think of
hiring anyone from the North, unless, of course, they had no other choice.
Many of
our boys couldn’t stay here, though.
They were needed to oversee the factories and plants of the North. Oh, they griped and complained, those
Northern folks, but in the end, it was better, run with the military precision
the likes of which they’d never before known.
Profits were up, and problems were down.
We traded with other countries, most notably Merry Old England, and life
was generally pretty good for everyone that mattered.
Of
course, that was what the Union Resistance hated most of all. I can sort of see their point, but then, they
were the ones who tried to pass their will onto us, while we just wanted to
keep things working the way they’d always been working. Still, it took a whole bunch of years for
them to become quiet about it. They
tried the usual sorts of things: bombings and assassinations, outright refusal
to work under us Greys, but we just looked at it as a population control
measure, and really, the problem sort of took care of itself. Of course, I mean they simply died off after
a bit of time. We Southern folk are
patient that way.
Our
patience and our pace is what ended up winning it for us, and getting us to all
propser, in the end. Just give it time,
and our ways do work, after all. In
fact, we were able to take on the westward expansion in a way those Blue Boys
couldn’t even fathom – we just extended the railroads out along the Great State
of Texas, and when those Mexicans saw how much work there was, why they came
and worked for next to nothing! We’ve
been able to even institute a policy of keeping wages low and under control at
all times as a result.
It has
been near a century of the New and Improved United States of America, and I can
tell you with solid assurance that we have never been stronger. We’ve got this man in the Richmond House by
the name of David Duke, and I think he could really take us places. He’s young, vigorous, and a true champion for
everything that’s running right in the country.
I voted for him in the last election – and it was a close one between
him and that other guy who almost didn’t come back from that Sub-Saharan
Occupation thing we took care of. He was
a true war hero, I can tell you. I had a
difficult time making up my mind, but in the end, Mr. Duke just seemed more
naturally right, like God Himself came down to Earth and anointed him personally.
I’m not really sure what’s going to become
us, heading forward, but I know I am all excited to find out. I hear they are doing simply amazing things
these days with those computers, and with them starting to look towards more
automation of plants, why soon, we might not even need to have slaves any
more. So really, those Northern folk got
what they wanted, and everyone was happier by doing it our way!OK, time for theme number 2
Theme: Phrase: "There was the device"
Initial thoughts: This one can go anywhere, but it definitely leans towards the sci-fi genre. I began to think about what kind of machine it could be - large vs small, evil vs good, etc. I finally settled on a device of some sort that makes zombies, because why not?? So there you have it. This sort of became a prologue type of thing, a brief scene involving the device, wherein the rest of the story follows....I hope you enjoy!
The
small band of warriors looked around the room at each other. Hodgkins was missing two fingers, Bellows had
his leg tied off in a tourniquet and was already looking pale, Z-bub’s left eye
was swollen shut, and Deeks was missing several teeth. The day turned into hell from the start, and
now they were all that was left.
“We
still have to get to the machine,” said Z-bub.
“There’s at least a hundred of them left,” piped up Hodgkins. “They’re huddled around it, like bees
protecting the queen.”
“We
don’t have a choice,” said Bellows.
“We’re all that’s left.”
They
all nodded in silent agreement. Of the
entire unit sent to infiltrate and destroy the machine, only their squad
remained. The plan was a simple divide
and conquer maneuver: fighting on multiple fronts was difficult, so it was
decided to send in small forces at several strategic points. The creatures seemed mindless, unorganized, a
mass horde led by mob mentality that swarmed and moved on its own accord. They were wrong. Whatever it was that controlled them, the
creatures had a plan.
Now,
instead of having several squads reach the central control room, it was just
one. Four men against a small army of
those things, and the machine was at the center. They had to destroy it, no matter the
cost. They had to succeed.
“So how
do we want to do this?” said Deeks. He spat out some blood.
“They
won’t fall for a diversion,” said Hodgkins.
“We already know that.”
“We’ll
have to go in one at a time,” said Bellows.
“A staggered attack. We use
grenades, and maybe three of us can clear a path for the last one.”
Z-bub
spoke up. “You’re calling for suicide.”
“No –
just take as much of them out as we can, and maybe we’ll get lucky and take
that damned thing out with us.”
“There’s got to be a better way,” said Deeks.
“How? There’s too many of them
against just the four of us.”
“He’s
right,” said Hodgkins. “There’s no
better way.”
“I’ll
go first,” said Bellows. “I can’t move
as quickly, so they should swarm me easily.
I can take out more of them.
Next, Deeks will go. Same
idea. Z-bub, you’re third, and Hodgkins
ought to be able to get through to the machine.
Blow it up. At all costs, destroy
that thing.”
“That’s
a lot you’re putting on me,” said Hodgkins.
“You’re
the fastest, so you’ve got the best chance to make the push. Get that grenade as close as you can.”
They
all nodded their approval. No words
needed to be said.
Hodgkins watched as all three of his friends disappeared one by one out
the door, and he heard the corresponding explosion of the grenades each
time. The dirt and grime ran down his
face as the tears streaked his skin, and he knew he could not let them
down. They would not die in vain. He plucked the grenade off his belt, and held
tightly to the trigger, pulling the pin.
Standing, he took three deep breaths, and then ran out the door to
follow his friends.
Clambering
around them, picking his way as he moved, he could see some of the creatures
still stirring, some of them blown to pieces, and some of them making off with
pieces of his fallen comrades. At last,
he made it past the last pile of bodies, only to see a good twenty more of the
creatures in front of him, guarding the machine. They knew he was there. They knew what was happening. They would defend the machine with their
lives. He would destroy it with
his. He charged.
When
the smoke cleared, there was the machine.
It was damaged, but it could be repaired.
Thanks for reading,
Me
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