Indie Le Kinchia
My brush strokes across the dark blue colored canvas. My brush swirls quickly. Silently, but fast. The weight of the lantern sitting on the side table. The darkness of the underground, hidden home, blocks my vision like a dark cloud covering the sun. Almost done with this piece. My masterpiece. My whole life goes into this painting. They are after me. They are evil, pure evil. No open mind, just a closed, locked mind. Not accepting new ideas. Not accepting the arts. Only the art of war and battle against those who have creativity. I must run, I must leave, I must flea this hatred land, with only my paint and brushes. The lantern on the side table flickers threatening to leave me darkness. My canvas trembles, the brushes trembles, I tremble. Above the pounding of thousand footsteps, makes my heart want to burst. They are at my door, I am underground, even if they do knock down my one of kind door. They won’t find me. Right?
“Mr. Le Kinchia, open your door or we will knock it down ourselves!” The general Deg?do yells. My heart beats as fast as cheetah runs for its prey. Silence. One minute, then two until my body aches from not moving for a while.
“Ready!” Demanded the general pointing his red hand at his soldiers. His leg flies into the air like a bullet soaring into face of death. The antique door crashes to ground, the soldiers barge in the small doorway. I wait to not be in that nonsense. I will go when there is not that many soldiers. General Deg?do frowns at me, as if he was regretting putting me on his army. If I want to get out of here I can’t be on his nerve. I move my uniform legs into to a walk, a run, a sprint to the door. I realize that for my plan to work, I have to be the one that finds the last creative person in Romoty, in Europe, in the world.
Indie Le Kinchia
The sound of frantic boots upstairs, tells me enough. I grab the lantern, and my paint and brushes. My eyes find their way to my painting. I grab my art as I hear a soldier yelling.
“I found a tunnel! General Degado! A tunnel!”
I sprint as fast as I can, away from the, running, sprinting feet close behind me. Above I see the switch that I installed weeks ago, just in case this happens. I think of that the code is, and jump. I smack that switch.
“Goedendag, Welterusten, en alsjeblieft” I yell over the chaos. Rocks start to fall in that area, than titanium walls shut in front of and behind the rocks. I start to slow down, than I stop and lay down on the damp dirt. I am safe, They won’t be able to get past that.
I drop my gun, and flashlight. The rocks start falling from the roof. I sprint as fast as a cheetah. The other soldiers behind me now. I run through the closing passage, just in time. It was all a blur. I see the blackness in front of me now. I fall, collapse. A rock hit me when was I running though. Not a huge one though. But enough to surround me in blackness.
When I wake I could sense someone near. My head aches, as do all my bones. I let my body rest for a few minutes.When I am ready I use the dirt wall on the side to help me stand. My head leaps and threatens to leave me again. I walk forward into the darkness letting the wall lead the way.
“Get out of here” A man’s voice echos.
I jump, then stop. He’s here! Yes he is here!
“You do not belong here, leave! The voice says again
“Please, Mr. Le Kinchia I am not here to hurt you. I am the only one here. I need you to help me.” I attempt to persuade him.
“You may not call me by my name, nor any name, solider”
“At least hear me out” I tell him
“Why should I help you soldier? You help those villains kill away any creativity left in the world. I will not help you, nor will I ever.” Mr. Le Kinchia tells me.
“I will admitt, sir, I do not have a good reason for you to help me, but let me tell you this you are the last creative one alive, you are in danger, if you help me we can defeat the king and his ideas he is leaving around. We can get Romoty back into the greatness that it should have.”
“You have no good deed until you can show me that you are good. Come, you much to show me.”
Indie Le Kinchia
I keep me distance from the soldier and keep me face hidden under my scarf. I lead him though the series of tunnels in silence. I don’t dare speak, I have already showed weakness to the soldier. I will not help him, he may think I will, but I would never. My father was the greatest painter in the world, he would paint masterpieces for the king, for the queen, but then their son rose to power, for the queen and the king both died in the sleep that night. He burned every piece of art in the castle. He sent soldiers to raid the citizen homes to burn and destroy every piece of art in Romoty. Then the new king, himself, came to my father house, he captured my father and stabbed him before my eyes. I ran out of the house and hid in a nearby alleyway. There I vowed to never help a soldier and to stay in Romoty and show the hierarchy that they can’t mess with the creatives. I was 19 then. I here I am 27 and I am fleaing, breaking my vow. This is not like me. But now they are on to me, and I will come back when it quiets down and then I kill the King myself, just like he did to my father.
“Sir, are you okay?” The soldier says. I notice that I have stopped in my tracks, deep in thoughts. I give him a thumbs up. He sighs.
“I am Mattano Rediga, and I join to army to find you, to help you. I am not your enemy. I would never find you on my own sir.” He pauses as if he is looking for a response. When I don’t give him one he continues.
“I know your past sir. I know the day when your father was killed.” I look up at him in surprise. I hold up the lantern so the light shines on his face. I study it. Then I remember. There was this other guy in the background that was fighting to get in my house, to save my dad. He looked like he was living on the streets. The guard outside my door took him away. I did not pay much attention to him.
“My family was a gendi. We would risk our lives to help the creatives, I know that you do not trust any soldier, but I am not a soldier, I am a gendi.” I look at him in astonishment. I could I have been so foolish. To not believe that he wants to help me, all I thought of was that he was my enemy. Cause my enemies all wear those black uniforms, those polished shoes, and those snow white gloves. My enemies all carry guns and worship the King. All my enemies are against those who like the arts, and the people that make them. But since that day I thought of everyone as my enemy and no on as a gendi.
“You, Mattano Rediga, is someone I thought I would never meet.”