5.11.11 The Fate of Revolution

The room was a terrible mess. Papers lay strewn on the table tops and floor, others were tacked crookedly to the cracking walls. Shards of broken bottle made walking precarious; unfinished uniforms sat untended beside needles already threaded. Weapons of every kind imaginable were mixed in with the rest. Everything needed for revolution, yet nothing ever used.

The soldiers of the state stood waiting at the door, their recent accomplishments still buzzing through their heads.

“Get the torches, boys,” the captain shouted. “Burn everything to ashes, let nothing remain. No one must remember this happened.”

And so it was forgotten.