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Hello other writers of the world! I'm Bettafishay, but you can refer to me as Fishy or whatever your prefer! I'm a self-taught writer, and hoping to broaden my love of writing here. A few things about me, I am a comic book fanatic, and especially adore Marvel, I love steam punk fashion and make some of my own steampunk creations. Despite being a writer, I'm also an artist, specializing in equine art. :)

Warmth of the Sun

April 11, 2016

In Russia, we get about nine hours of the sun, if we are lucky. I can nearly guarantee without knowing your name, or where you are from comrade, you’ve seen the sun, for longer than that. I can bet that you have laid on a beach, or by a pool in next to no clothing, letting the sun lap itself over your body. That’s what you know, that's what you're familiar with, that’s what you were raised to know.

My name is Vadim, or Вадим as I would write it in my old country. I can tell you, on even days the sun was out in Russia, one would not notice the sun peering over us, under the scaffolding and construction of a steel complex. The goal of these complexes, what Stalin told the people, was to struggle through these difficult times, to withstand the industrialization, so that later, Russia would go to produce more metal than anywhere in the world. This made sense coming from Stalin, who had altered his name to mean just that; The Man of Steel.

It was under this ‘Man of Steel’s’ reign that comrades slaved, for themselves, for their children, and their children’s children and so forth. The things that kept us going was the promise of better things. Our goals, where to make things better for the next generation in hopes they would do the same. We hoped that by the work and sweat we performed our children would work and sweat less.

We had a hard time realizing that the only person who seemed to be collecting benefit from our labour and toil was Stalin himself. As our stomachs grew thinner, and our ribs more apparent, his income grew. As our children and brothers were slaughtered and murdered for industry, he sat in a lavish life, the one all of us had believed in, the one that was supposed to deliver us all from the darkness so that we too one day could enjoy our nine hours of the warm sun.

Over 45 million dead ought to count for some sort controversy. Let it be shown on my deathbed, that I, Vadim hope to personally meet Joseph Stalin in hell, for I know that’s where I will lie for overlooking the death of my comrades. I think, that there in hell, I will find the warmth I have been seeking all my life, in the most overwhelming of ways.
The story of a worker in a steel complex under Stalin's Soviet Russia.


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  • April 11, 2016 - 3:51pm (Now Viewing)

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