The Lament Of Atlas | Teen Ink

The Lament Of Atlas

December 12, 2018
By Peryton, Daytona Beach, Florida
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Peryton, Daytona Beach, Florida
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Author's note:

It's a speech, not much else to say on the matter.

The author's comments:

This is literally all I will write for this so yeehaw?

He walked down the dark, metal hallway with purpose. The click of his cane creating a hypnotizing rhythm to all that heard it. The air tasted metallic and sterile, but the man basked in it. From a distance, he could hear the echoes of the people’s conversations. They sounded uncertain, scared. The recent events making them fearful of what the future holds. They were too simple minded to see the inevitable, too naive to see through the lies of the suits. The man couldn’t blame them for this, however, they have yet to feel the radiating warmth of the holy fire in their souls. They have yet to see its truth.

The man was drawing closer to the center of the dome, the people’s voices getting louder, more suffocating. He grimaced, he desperately wished they’d quiet down. Once he explained their circumstances maybe then they’d see. He’d explain how they had all ended up in this decrepit dome, how this all happened, and how they can build a new world free of sin. They were almost there.

The man emerged from the metallic tunnel, greeted with a blinding white light and silence. The noise of conversation now a distant memory among the crowd. The man let a smirk grace his face as he made his way up the platform in the center of this large gathering. His feet carrying him gracefully up the steps and his very being radiated confidence. With a wave of his hand, it was time to begin.

“ We have reached a crossroads, a time of uncertainty for humanity,” the man’s voice boomed over the hushed crowd,” a time when brothers have turned against each other, a time where humanity is at its breaking point. When the Red Devil corrupted our great nation, many thought it to be the end. I am here to say that I will not let that happen.”

The man paused, allowing his words to be comprehended by the crowd. Their faces were still uncertain but their wounds and burns created a reminder of what stalks them outside.

The man would use this fear to his advantage.

“ I know many of you are reserved about accepting what I must say but I urge you to hear me out.” He states firmly.

“ On October 27, 1962, the Reds dropped their atomic bombs on our cities, killing millions and leaving those of us who believed to pick up the pieces. Though a few of us saw through Washington's lies, many unfortunate souls didn’t and they lost their lives. Millions are now dead because of Washington’s incompetence. Their sins caught up to them though, their capital now sits destroyed in a crater of their own making. Their strength has been sucked dry and all that they claimed was eternal now disintegrated too,” the man continues,” Where their failures have now destroyed them I am here to rebuild. I am here to make sure our past mistakes never again, and where Washington failed I will recreate in the image of the mighty holy fire.”

The crowd begins to whisper among themselves, a look of confusion washed over them like a tidal wave. They’d all heard the crazed talk of those who believed in the holy fire. Mutters heard from deep within alleyways and spoken about in Sunday church. All that talk about a great calamity consuming the world, all the talk about a world reborn free of hypocrisy and greed. The man waves his hand to signal the crowd quiets down. With their silence, he begins again.

“ I understand many of you have heard some less than desirable things about the organization I represent,” the man begins to pace around the stage he occupies, “ I’m sure many of you have heard some rather ghastly things but I am here to say that none of them hold any truth to them. The rumors you’ve all heard were made to poison your minds and keep you from seeing the truth. We are not some crazed madmen running around kidnapping your children or trying to brainwash you all.”

The man chuckles, turning on his heel once again to pace back to the other end of his stage. He could hear the faint sound of rain hitting the metal roof of this shelter. It was so quiet it was almost hard to tell if any of these survivors were breathing. The man felt a smirk emerge onto his face. He had them hanging onto every word he breathed. He had them snagged into his web.

“ I would like to end this meeting of sorts with a positive message if you’ll allow me.” The man opens his arms wide as to embrace everyone in the crowd, “Though the old world is no more and our cities lay in ruin, I am proud of each and every one of you for fighting on despite it all. You are all fighters, you are all the future. If you join me, together we can use our strength to rebuild this once great country. No longer shall we live in the shadows of dust and bones, no longer shall we live like rats fighting amongst each other to survive. If we work together we can make a future that the old ones wished they had the opportunity and drive to make.”

The man turns on his heel one final time as he begins to walk back into the dark metallic tunnel. The voices behind him began to pick up one by one, hope filling their voices and talk about a new future taking hold. The man paused, turning back to face the crowd. They go silent once again.

“ I’m very grateful for your attendance today and I do hope you all consider my offer, I believe each of you can help rebuild the world. My name is Atlas and I hope you all join me again, thank you.”



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