They had adopted the policy, believed in it. Believed in themselves, that they had power. Even though they were only citizens, each of them nothing but a +1 to the population count, they believed that with numbers they could change their government, that with friends and family and protesting they could change their lives.
How wrong they were.
For it is not "United we stand", but rather, "Powerful we stand".
The uniting of weaklings stand for nothing at all.
They did not understand this. How could they? None of them had even known power, and their leader had brought them together with sweet sentiments and encouraging words. They had thought, even if we aren't powerful, we're together, and our leader will lead us through the darkness of these days. Alas, but their leader was powerless too. Powerless to stop and powerless to change anything. For if the leader had been powerful enough to change the government, he would not have needed all the millions of people to join his cause. He could have simply overturned it himself...
Numbers do not mean anything. They did not know that simply being there would not change the way the world had thought and felt. They did not understand the magnitude of what they had attempted to overthrow. They did not realize that the empire had stood for thousands of years for a reason.
Selfishly, they believed that they could change it. They believed that their view upon the world was correct, and through numbers- multitudes of untalented bystanders, everyday citizens- that they could and would change the way the world was.
Sometimes, the world does not need changing.
They had called themselves the Vigilant, the ones who kept careful watch over ordinary citizens and protected them. Their efforts at protection were temporary at best, harmful at worst. They had not understood that not everyone needed protection.
They held rallies, spoke to the citizens of the long-standing empire. They shouted words of criticism against the empire, and declared that they could change it, could make things better. Foolishly, many citizens believed them. It is arrogance that caused these talentless to stand against the empire. It is foolishness that makes them believe that they can win.
This empire has stood for millenia. It has withstood far greater rebellions than this. It has withstood rebellions in which the whole of the citizen body had needed to be put down, for they were too excited with the notions of their revolution. See, that is how powerless the citizens are. How greatly held in the empire's minds. If the entire population is rebelling, replace it.
They are replaceable, every one of them. They fear that, fear being replaced. They fear passing from this world without making any changes upon it at all. They fear being forgotten. That is their weakness.
That is why they are powerless. In their desperation to change the world, oftentimes they change it for worse. The hands that they had hoped would reshape the stone turn out to be, instead, the hands that mar its already perfect natural beauty.
Sometimes, the world does not need changing. Sometimes, it is good enough just the way it is.
Recently, I was browsing notepad.cc and discovered an interesting text document.
It pertains a nice story, I'll post it here in case some jerk adds password protection to it.
Hope (small text size to minimize space)
Prologue
Throughout time, man has come to call her by many names. She can be found in every home, every dream, every prayer, every heart. Those who have nothing have her. In those early days, she did not yet comfort the poor, the sick, the weary, the needy, the greedy, the rich, the powerful. She walked the Earth and man only knew her by the name given from her mother.
He was slowly shambling across the fiery surface of the desert with the hope of finding a decent meal. Well that was only if the Fates decided to smile on him. He really just wanted something that even vaguely resembled food. It's difficult to find anything when the sun seems intent on burning everything that was unfortunate enough to not be able to burrow. His mother always made jokes at the expense of burrowers. "Be neither a burrower nor a lender." He never thought the jokes were particularly clever. Right now, things were good though. He lazily sauntered over to a thin, long patch of shade. He sat contemplating his lucky fortune for finding reprieve. The sun seemed to pick up the slack and figuratively beat down more intensely. He noticed that the thin, long patch of shade seemed to have moved away. His little brain found itself working faster and harder than ever before to figure out what was happening. Unfortunately, his tiny brain was neither fast nor hard enough. Before he could even finish processing the looming sizable object, he was already spread out into tiny little pieces.
The owner of the looming sizable object, some affectionately refer to it as a foot, shuddered as she felt the squish of the tiny insect under her soles.
The squished insect was the least of Hope's problems. She could do nothing to stop the rushing, rhythmic pain. Cuts and bruises littered her skin like flies to a corpse. There was also no shortage of flies on her skin. It felt like it was only yesterday that she was swatting flies away from her meals at home. She could feel the few remaining drops of water in her body slowly oozing out of her eyes as the sand stung her red, weary eyes. A mountain loomed in front, so close that she could almost touch it. She fell to her knees as she succumbed to the hardship that every traveler encounters in the wild sands of the desert. The little bug, the millions of sand, and the gusting wind left her consciousness as the harsh desert enveloped her frail body that was tightly, desperately gripping onto a worn, old wooden box.
"We shall find it." The man spoke with a deathly rasp, a rattle in his throat that seemed to slowly twist and creep through the air.
There were four of them. Each one were as different from the other as seasons yet there was an uncanny relation to them. A power and purpose that was as strong as any storm and as old as the Earth. They were beings not born of this mundane land. They were neither man nor beast. An unspeakable truth that all men knew in their hearts but could never speak out loud.
The four rode through the desert on menacing beasts that resembled horses but which that struck fear unlike any other beast. Before they even reached the gates of a town, the people knew of their arrival. It seemed like a dark cloud hung everywhere they went. Fighting, hunger, and infestation plagued every person until they could not even think of their own names. The four entered each town unopposed in their search for the thing they seek. Town after town they searched yet it seemed that the thing they seek has vanished into thin air.
The leader, the man who first spoke, stopped his horse and the other three did the same. At first glance - and that's usually the most people give him - the man seemed the weakest, the most vulnerable of the group. His horse looked so malnutritioned that it couldn't possibly support it's own weight, let alone the man. His form was frail and his face had deep grooves like a man who had been depraved of any rest for a lifetime. He wore a black cloak that covered his entire body - from his neck to his feet - under the beating sun and yet not a drop of sweat can be traced in his features. There was something grim about him, something that his dark eyes betrayed - something in there that struck fear even in fear itself. The three were more powerful than any man, one could tell just by looking at them, they exuded power, but when the leader spoke, they listened. He didn't exude power; the feeling that emanated from his being was more ominous, a feeling that chilled the bone. He spoke. They listened. He ordered. They followed. An unquestionable authority, an endless power, an unholy reverence.
He went down from his horse and sat in the sand. The other three looked at each other but, as they've grown accustomed to not question him, they just shrugged their shoulders and did followed suit.
Another of the group spoke, this man, who wore an ornate red garb, whose eyes burned with an insatiable flame, spoke, "I grow weary of these games. The girl must be found. We will achieve nothing by remaining here. Why do we sit here?"
The leader remained sitting and, for awhile, didn't speak. The winds grew stronger and those who use eyes to see would be unable to see anything in the thick dust. He looked at all three of his companions. "We wait."
"Child. Are you okay?"
"Mother? How did you get here? I thought you'd be..."
"No child. I see you are not well. I am Elder Lenor. For now, you must rest. We shall talk later.
Hope opened her eyes to pitch darkness. She felt a hot, searing pain touch every nerve in her body. It felt like flames were licking her arms. Suddenly, her whole vision flashed a bright white. The whole room came alive in flames that danced from wall to wall. She realized that she was in her mother's hut. The door flew open in a flurry of red and white. It was her mother. There was blood dripping down her white garment. "You have to get out of here!" Her mother winced as if an ounce of blood oozed out with every ounce of breath.
"I don't understand. What's happening? What happened to you?" Hope ran over to help her mother.
"No. I'm fine. Look over there," she winced even harder as she pointed to a wall of their small home, "Take that box and take it towards Mount Moriah."
A cold whisper seemed to drift through the hut. It wormed inside their heads like arrows flying true. "Hand it over Keeper. You don't have to suffer and neither does your child."
Hope's mother started screaming and then, just as suddenly, she stopped. A look of anguish lingered momentarily on her face. A look that would linger forever in Hope's mind. "The Harbingers are nearing. I can feel them. Take my amulet. It'll keep you safe from those who wish you harm."
"I still don't understand. What's in this?" She started to undo the clasp of the lock but she stopped when her mother started screaming again, a more agonizing scream than before. "Hope! Bring me food... No, you must go now! So angry... Make sure no one opens the box. The insects are everywhere... Get away you stupid child! Leave! Oh. I feel so stiff, so cold... Hope. Do not worry. All that is will come to pass." Her mother's eyes closed and the hut shuddered as the gust outside strengthened.
Hope ran from her mother; ran from her home; ran from the village that has kept her safe all these years. She looked back to see the night sky slowly swallow the ashes and embers of what remained. Four shadowy figures stood beside her hut. She couldn't possibly see from that distance but she knew that they were staring at her. Piercing her soul like a hawk when it sees its prey. A cold whisper drifted through the air once more, "Give us what we seek." Another voice, this one much warmer, spoke, "Wake up, my child."
"Wake up my child." The woman hovered over Hope's face with a worried look. She was an old lady. Very old. "Ah. Finally. We heard your screaming all the way from my hut. I am Elder Lenor and this is Noah, he's the one that found you."
It was a small, sparse cottage with a palette that screamed brown, brown, and more brown. There was a a table in the corner with an unlit candle with a mound of wax on one side. Two curious, worried, strangely similar faces looked down at her like she was an injured animal.
Hope attempted to sit up on the wooden bed but the only thing that happened was a gurgle emanated from her stomach, loudly echoing around the cottage. "It would seem that a monster is hiding inside our guest's tunic. Noah, would you be so kind and get her some food." Noah left and the woman, who didn't appear that old yet had fine, white hair, walked over to beside Hope's bed and produced the sandy box.
Hope forced out a slight protest. "That's my - You mustn't-"
"Hush now child. You're not well enough to talk yet. You'll only strain yourself. Besides, I already tried opening the box. I was curious to what lay inside but try as I may I couldn't even make the lock loose. There's something evil in this thing. Every time I touch it, it seems that darkness has descended upon the world and the only noise I can hear is screaming. The most agonizing screams I have ever heard. Even the most fervent newborn's scream seems like pure laughter in comparison. I wish to do nothing with it. You're welcome to stay until you are better but you must take it with you when you leave this place.
"What is this place exactly?"
"That I cannot answer. We have... become weary of travelers. We are a humble people. One who enjoy the luxury of peace. The mountain provides us refuge from the elements and those that would wish to exploit us. Noah took a great risk bringing you here but you seemed harmless enough. We bear no ill towards you but we prefer to stay safe. I hope you understand."
"That's fine. Thank you for your hospitality. My mother sent me towards this mountain. I'm not sure why that is though. I'm glad to have found you. Or more like been found by you." Hope touched her neck at the thought of her mother and that's all she felt: her neck. "My amulet!"
Noah came in through the door carrying a tray. "I'm sorry. The egg was cooked fried."
"I said amulet not omel... Never mind. My mother gave me an amulet before she- before I left. She's had it on her since I could remember. She said it'd keep me safe from those who wish me harm."
"I can get it. I didn't get to finish foraging since I came upon you half-dead in the storm."
Elder Lenor stood up and cleared her throat, "The sandstorm hasn't weakened. It would seem quite the opposite is happening. Try to be careful out there. And Noah? Try not to bring home anymore strangers."
Three figures sat in the open. They were talking normal, typical small talk - the only discernible normal thing about them. World hunger, wars, and infestations were always welcome topics of conversation between them The sandstorm subsided already yet the sand beside the three seemed to be shifting. In the cloud of sand and dust rose their leader. He brushed off a few sand particles off his cloak and swung on top of his beast. "It's time."
Noah caressed the amulet. It was dull as a rock but there was a unique sheen to it. The stone had no glean yet it was brilliant in its own right, it had a subdued luster. This is magic. It seems alive. It's like there are shadows inside playing. Four shadows all moving across the surface. A chill went up his spine then all over; down to every single toe in his feet. It felt like the world suddenly collapsed on his shoulders and the vast empty void of space was his only companion. He hastily shoved the amulet into his pocket and turned around to meet the reflected shadows in the gem. They weren't shadows but something far more sinister, far darker. The thin one in a cloak as dark as night trotted forward on his horse. "Hello Noah. You don't know me yet but you will one day just like your father and everyone else you love. Maybe even sooner than you think."
"ELDER! ELDER!" The boy ran up to Elder Lenor as she and Hope exited their hut. In between loud gasps of air, "Four men. They've taken Noah. They're at the base of the mountain. They haven't made any demands. They're just... just standing there. Looking up right at us."
Elder Lenor ran to the gate with Hope trailing behind her. "We have to get him back. I already lost my husband. I can't lose Noah too." The two of them peeked over the outcropping and down into the desert. Noah was writhing at the base of the mountain screaming incoherently while four men sat atop their horses. All four of them, as if they could see behind stone, were staring right at where the two women were hiding in the mountain.
"We know you are there. We do not wish to harm this boy. We only want the box. This is our duty, our purpose. I am Death."
"I am War."
"I am Famine."
"And I am Pestilence."
All four of them spoke as one, "We are The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse."
No, I sadly did not write this amazing story. I'm only posting it here to preserve it and claim no credit.
I realize many of the images here are now nonexistant as I deleted many things from my Picasa web albums a few weeks ago. Sadly, I cannot retrieve and re-upload the images as I did a wipe of my hard drive yesterday (virus, a few system files were killed). Bear with me.
I
am Lucis and this is Talsine. We are one of a kind - Well, At least, Sine is.
Sine… how should I describe him? Well, he’s my brother, for
one.
Life
goes on as normal for Lucis. Friends, teachers, homework… that kind of thing. Talsine, his brother, was always
the one who got the mysterious letters, the anonymous phone calls, all the fame
and glory (though nobody really ever notices that Sine’s there- except for the ones Sine wanted to be noticed
by). Lucis begins to crave that adventure- that spice to add to his bland,
ordinary life. One day, Lucis tags along (unwanted, of course) on one of
Talsine’s missions- and his life is, as Sine
would put it, “inexorably” changed forever. Dun dun dun…
Yes, there is another novel currently in progress. This is an example of what probably would go on the book-jacket, minus the "dun dun dun..." part. Last time, that other novel died at the tenth chapter. Wonder how long this one'll last?
**By "last" the reference is to how long it will run on until a certain author gets tired of the plot.
