Like most days, Sal woke up shouting,
“What did I lose?” and looked around, his neck contorted as the muscles screeched. Everything was still the same: a pile of his clothes on the floor (they looked randomly thrown, but he’d know if they changed); a line of bottles behind the door; an old desk top computer gathering dust, but with a small circle cleaned on the monitor. He checked all of it. Then he then busied himself to making coffee, raising the mug to a corner of the wall in silent greeting, he knew they were watching.
Sal worked at the local garage. He had few friends, he did nothing spectacular. He gave the appearance of a quiet friendless man and he let them think they had broken him. He woke each morning shouting, but he no longer fretted over what he had lost. The fire when he was eight that had destroyed all his childhood toys and nearly killed his brother. The car crash that had killed his first girlfriend. The mysterious illness that had taken both his parents. He knew what he had lost, when all this was over, he would have to mourn, but first he had to survive. And figure out how to fight. At least he knew he wasn’t alone anymore, he wasn’t the only one whose life was toyed with. He saw it in the people around him, others knew that their lived were interfered with. He would receive a nod from a passing stranger. A stare held too long, once even a mutter from an elderly gentleman whose car he was fixing,
“They’ll come for you son. You think they won’t, but they’re watching, they’re everywhere, and they’ll come.”
“So what do I do?” whispered Sal. The old man shook his head,
“Just be ready, keep an eye out for others who know. The revolution will be quiet, until there’s enough of us,” he said.
So Sal was waiting.
Very cool. I like the idea that he’s alone but not alone in this. Also, the facade he puts up for “they” as a diversion device is awesome.
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Thank you Lumosvox! 🙂
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Some dark days when I was a teacher I think I felt like this … thank goodness it’s all now a distant memory, a soft whisper on the breeze. Brilliant little study in paranoia.
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It sounds tough being a teacher, I’m glad the memory has drifted away now. I’m glad you liked the story 🙂
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Thank you. It was more the system that got me down, and tended to lead to a vicious cycle of mildly depressed — not giving classroom teaching 100% — kids sensing weakness — getting behind with targets — more depression … But when the teaching experience was good, it was very, very good!
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Most teacherrs I’ve spoken to have said similar things. It’s a shame so many good teachers struggle. Have a beautiful day, my friend.
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Reblogged this on inquisitivepenelope and commented:
He said the revolution would be quiet
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Thank you! 🙂
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