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Kiara Winter

United States

I always liked the idea of pen names, and Kiara just happens to be one of them. I feel more comfortable when people can get to know me though my voice in writing, rather than my personal description of myself. I am weird like that. Blue is my puppy.

Message from Writer

"It is amazing what you can accomplish if you don't care who gets the credit." -Harry S. Truman


April 19, 2016

    I grew up in the most beautiful place, where the tree branches danced with the wind, the rivers flowed cool, and the food always delivered the sweetest of smells. Most importantly, our country was ruled by the most gracious leader in all of the lands. He never abandoned his people in times of need, and in return the people never failed to follow his command. One person who worked passionately to satisfy our leader is my father. My father always stayed busy making sure our leader was in the best of comforts. Sometimes he left for months, but when he would return home, the light would return with him.
    Our great leader accomplished many goals to fill both the country and people within it with sustenance. He created camps for all of the foreigners who lost their homes, and he made sure they had nutriment as well as work. He gave them new clothes, a bed, and a haircut, and once they were situated, they could mingle with new friends. Some of them lost their families during their great migration, but they only had a short time to cry a few tears, for they had the new home to think about.
    Sometimes the people would travel to other facilities in a train . They could talk, sleep, and engage in all sorts of activities on the train while they traveled. Their bland life changed much from what it once was; they felt on the edge of life during every moment.
    Everyday after school, I would get to go to afterschool programs to learn even more about my country. All of my classmates loved singing about the songs of our country and our divine leader. On the festive day of our leader’s birth we gathered in the town square to sing. On that memorable day we, along with the whole of the town, displayed a giant flag in our front window. That night we even had a giant bonfire in the middle of the town into which we were told to throw trash. The trash looked much like the books we read at school, but an apostle of the almighty leader were taught to never contradict.
    When my body aged to my leader’s approval, I was told to join the other men of my age on a mission to annihilate the hellish people who wished to assassinate my leader. I traveled to a part of town with my instructors, and we began throwing stones into the shops and into people's homes. We placed propaganda posters upon the walls and sprayed six pointed stars upon the windows. My hands worked separately from my heart, which pleaded for me to stop. My mind told my heart to never contradict.
    I continued to complete the tasks of my leader, and all the while my heart was fading to black. As my heart became black, my leader’s once doved wings turned grotesque like a crow’s. I became weary of him, and he became weary of me.
    One day he called me forth to test my strengths. He told me to take his weapon and smite the woman who quivered on the dirt below. She was neither young nor beautiful. I raised the weapon to aim, but her eyes stopped me. They were kind, delicate, and unlike anything I had ever seen before. In short, they stopped me. 
    My leader glared, saying, “Salute to me.” I looked at him in enlightened relief.
    “No,” I said in a questioning voice.
    “Now! Boy!” He raised his voice.
    “Never again,” I said in a firmer tone.
    “I am your leader! I am the reason you are alive! Salute to me!” He yelled with all the air in his lungs.
    “My leader is immortal.”
    “I am immortal!”
    “My leader is divine.”
    “I am divine!”
    “My leader rose from the dead.”
    “I don’t need to rise. I shall never fall!” He said with a smug face.
    “My leader fell for His people.”
    “His mistake. Now salute to me, or fall with your leader.” He made a gesture to the man who stood behind him.
    “I shall rather die than salute to a murderer,” I said, standing as stiff as a board with the courage of a thousand lions in my heart.
    “Finish,” Hitler said, pointing to the praying woman and stepping back before the shot was taken. The explosion stopped her breathing; her body lay wounded and limp.
    “Do you believe your leader is so divine now?” He asked with a smirk.
    That was the last word I said in that life.


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  • April 19, 2016 - 6:45am (Now Viewing)

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