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As I'm sure is quite obvious, I made this up entirely as I went along. Absolutely no planning went into it and at first I was expecting the involvement of Father Christmas appearing with a large gun. However, I resisted the temptation. Also, this is my first attempt at a serious story, previously I've only tried comedy so I decided a change was needed. It does mean that the story is probably a bit crap though, and not full of complex adjectives that nobody fully understands like everybody elses seem to. That's enough rambling so read the story, enjoy it if you can, and then criticise (in a helpful manner, of course).
------------------------
“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
Oh come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
come and behold him, born the Kin…”
“That’s enough of that kind of talk thank you very much.” A tall figure stood in the moonlight, a giant in comparison to the small children innocently singing Christmas hymns, full of happiness as the big day drew closer when the big man in his red fur coat would deliver all the presents.
“I’m sure I’ve warned you before,” he continued, in a voice that did not convey the traditional spirit of the festivities. “You know what happens when you’re caught a second time, don’t you?” A cruel smile came over his face as he said this. The children moved back in fear, clinging tightly to each other as they did so. There was one child that stayed fixed in his original position though, a boy of about 9 years of age, fairly tall (although still minute when stood next to the man), short hair, and large blue eyes. He stood confidently with his shoulders back and his head held high, showing no fear of the man in front of him.
“I’m going to have to arrest all five of you. Such a shame during the holiday period.” The man gave out a small laugh as he spoke.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said the boy, trying to be courageous but his voice trembled tremendously as he spoke. The smirk on the man’s face disappeared instantly and he glared intensely at the boy.
“You, what is your name?” he asked threateningly to the boy without blinking once.
“Austin Buckeridge,” came the reply, this time more assertively than when he previously spoke to the man.
“Well, well, Master Buckeridge, you are a brave boy aren’t you? First you come out singing those forbidden songs, and now you are refusing to take your punishment. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.”
“It shouldn’t be a crime, we’re not harming anybody.”
“Oh, but you are,” came a sharp response. “You are in a multi-cultural country. It is wrong to celebrate your Christian festivals when it may offend people of other races who have moved into Britain. You should be proud to be part of an age where people with ancestors from all across the globe can live together in harmony. However, people like you make life difficult, you are what is known as a racist. By singing those vile songs you are saying that you support the Christian faith and therefore you care not about the beliefs of others, it is highly selfish and ignorant. I suppose you wish we still had public Christmas trees don’t you? Bah, you people make me sick. Come here!”
The man lunged for the boy in front of him. He grabbed the boy’s leg and the boy struggled and squirmed trying to break free from the amazingly tight grip that the man had on him. The other children managed to run away whilst their friend was being pulled into a firmer hold. The man pulled the boy in and put him in an arm lock before standing up and frog marching the boy into the back of his black van.
***
The four children ran as fast as they could away from the police man who had caught their friend. Since 2017 it had been illegal to publicly celebrate religious holidays in any shape or form. Despite this, some people just couldn’t hide their faith away and would continue singing festive songs or put religious artefacts on view, and so a special police force was set up to deal with such problems. Christmas was always one of the busiest times of the year for them.
The children stopped at a large house and one of the girls opened the door and they all quickly ran in, panting as they did. The girl spoke, “We must help Austin. We all know that the camps are not safe so we must we rescue him from the holding cells before the next load are sent off. That gives us only one day as the next collection is tomorrow, Christmas Eve.”
There was a deathly silence among the other three children. The girl continued, “James is too young, so that leaves only myself, John, and Claire. We must go tonight.”
“Tonight!” exclaimed John. “But Helen, we haven’t got a plan or anything. We’re dealing with dangerous people, they know what they’re doing, the security to their facilities is the best available.”
“It’s now or never,” said Helen. “Austin only has a short amount of time to live, we can’t risk waiting until tomorrow. Besides, we’ll be safe, God is on our side.” The other children looked at each other uneasily, not entirely convinced that God’s help would be enough. “Do you not have faith?” asked Helen, sternly. The others looked towards the ground. “Well?” she said impatiently.
“Of course we do,” John replied hastily. “Come on then, let’s go.”
***
The man roughly pulled Austin out of the back of the van. It had been a fairly short but bumpy journey. Austin was covered in bruises and felt far too weak to battle against the fully fit man who was holding his arms tightly.
He was taken down various corridors, decorated with all of the flags of every country and there didn’t appear to be two guards of the same ethnic origin. The man who had arrested Austin was a white man, most likely English, and was dressed in a intimidating purple and black uniform.
Austin was thrust into a small cell and the door slammed behind him. He lay down, to tired to do anything else and immediately fell asleep.
“Keep a close eye on that one,” said the man to one of the guards as he walked away.
“Sure thing boss,” he replied.
***
Helen, John, and Claire arrived at the Anti Religion Police Force (ARPF) headquarters and it was now very cold and snow had begun to fall lightly. They looked around for any signs of a spotlight or an alarm system and to their surprise they found none. The three of them ran towards the main building and paused for breath in the alcove in front of the side entrance.
“When we do get inside,” said Claire, “how will we find Austin?”
“I don’t know,” said Helen.
“And how will we get past the guards?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Helen.
“And opening the cell door won’t be easy either.”
“Look!” snapped Helen, “I don’t know how we’ll solve theses problems. We’ll just work them out as we…”
Helen was interrupted by a loud sound. A huge vehicle was moving onto the courtyard outside the main entrance to the headquarters. The snow was falling heavily now and so it took them a while to work out exactly what the vehicle was.
“Oh no,” cried John, “it’s the transporter to the camps.”
“It’s a day early, I don’t understand,” said a now sobbing Helen.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. It may not be recognised as a religious time anymore but people are still happy to accept it as an excuse for a day off work.”
Helen began to run towards the vehicle, occasionally slipping as the floor became icy, and having to brush her hair with her hand as it became full of falling snow. Just as she reached the vehicle she saw Austin being carried in. Asleep? Unconscious? Dead? She didn’t know but she was determined to save him. She kicked one of the two men who were carrying Austin and he dropped Austin’s legs as he grabbed his own in pain. The man’s partner turned to Helen and let Austin drop to the hard floor and ran after the now fleeing girl. The man easily caught up with her and pounced, causing her to crash face first into the snow. She screamed but the man covered her mouth quickly and held her in a fireman’s lift.
As she was carried towards the ARPF headquarters, she looked behind her and saw John and Claire being tackled by a couple of well built guards and they too were being forced into a building. She cried and looked towards Austin’s body, which had been abandoned on the floor.
He lay completely lifeless, clearly not breathing, clearly dead. His skull had cracked as he dropped to the floor and his scarlet blood had begun to slowly trickle into the rapidly thickening snow.
Helen was taken to an office at the back of the building where she was placed in front of the man who had originally arrested Austin. She wanted to tell him what he’d caused, how stopping a group of young children from enjoying a harmless exercise simply because of the deluded ideas that people would be offended by such actions had caused the death of a boy who hadn’t even reached 10 years old. She wanted to explain that the whole system was completely flawed but she couldn’t bring the words out due to the tears caused by her grief, though even if she could speak she knew that it would be pointless. She had no power, no say, and no rights.
The man produced the same evil smile that he’d produced only a few hours earlier when he arrested Austin. “Take her to the van,” he said.
Helen hung her head and let out even more sobs and screams. She was rapidly carried away and dumped into the van, where she saw John and Claire sitting in a corner, blindfolded and with gags across their mouths. Helen could not believe that simply singing carols had led to this. She had known it was dangerous, as had the others, but she was a Christian, and as a Christian she felt it was her duty to go out and celebrate the birth of Christ.
She did not hope for death when she had gone out that night but she didn’t fear it. At least, she didn’t fear it until it stood right in front of her. Extermination was guaranteed at the camp, and now, more than ever, she doubted her faith.
------------------------
“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
Oh come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
come and behold him, born the Kin…”
“That’s enough of that kind of talk thank you very much.” A tall figure stood in the moonlight, a giant in comparison to the small children innocently singing Christmas hymns, full of happiness as the big day drew closer when the big man in his red fur coat would deliver all the presents.
“I’m sure I’ve warned you before,” he continued, in a voice that did not convey the traditional spirit of the festivities. “You know what happens when you’re caught a second time, don’t you?” A cruel smile came over his face as he said this. The children moved back in fear, clinging tightly to each other as they did so. There was one child that stayed fixed in his original position though, a boy of about 9 years of age, fairly tall (although still minute when stood next to the man), short hair, and large blue eyes. He stood confidently with his shoulders back and his head held high, showing no fear of the man in front of him.
“I’m going to have to arrest all five of you. Such a shame during the holiday period.” The man gave out a small laugh as he spoke.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said the boy, trying to be courageous but his voice trembled tremendously as he spoke. The smirk on the man’s face disappeared instantly and he glared intensely at the boy.
“You, what is your name?” he asked threateningly to the boy without blinking once.
“Austin Buckeridge,” came the reply, this time more assertively than when he previously spoke to the man.
“Well, well, Master Buckeridge, you are a brave boy aren’t you? First you come out singing those forbidden songs, and now you are refusing to take your punishment. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.”
“It shouldn’t be a crime, we’re not harming anybody.”
“Oh, but you are,” came a sharp response. “You are in a multi-cultural country. It is wrong to celebrate your Christian festivals when it may offend people of other races who have moved into Britain. You should be proud to be part of an age where people with ancestors from all across the globe can live together in harmony. However, people like you make life difficult, you are what is known as a racist. By singing those vile songs you are saying that you support the Christian faith and therefore you care not about the beliefs of others, it is highly selfish and ignorant. I suppose you wish we still had public Christmas trees don’t you? Bah, you people make me sick. Come here!”
The man lunged for the boy in front of him. He grabbed the boy’s leg and the boy struggled and squirmed trying to break free from the amazingly tight grip that the man had on him. The other children managed to run away whilst their friend was being pulled into a firmer hold. The man pulled the boy in and put him in an arm lock before standing up and frog marching the boy into the back of his black van.
***
The four children ran as fast as they could away from the police man who had caught their friend. Since 2017 it had been illegal to publicly celebrate religious holidays in any shape or form. Despite this, some people just couldn’t hide their faith away and would continue singing festive songs or put religious artefacts on view, and so a special police force was set up to deal with such problems. Christmas was always one of the busiest times of the year for them.
The children stopped at a large house and one of the girls opened the door and they all quickly ran in, panting as they did. The girl spoke, “We must help Austin. We all know that the camps are not safe so we must we rescue him from the holding cells before the next load are sent off. That gives us only one day as the next collection is tomorrow, Christmas Eve.”
There was a deathly silence among the other three children. The girl continued, “James is too young, so that leaves only myself, John, and Claire. We must go tonight.”
“Tonight!” exclaimed John. “But Helen, we haven’t got a plan or anything. We’re dealing with dangerous people, they know what they’re doing, the security to their facilities is the best available.”
“It’s now or never,” said Helen. “Austin only has a short amount of time to live, we can’t risk waiting until tomorrow. Besides, we’ll be safe, God is on our side.” The other children looked at each other uneasily, not entirely convinced that God’s help would be enough. “Do you not have faith?” asked Helen, sternly. The others looked towards the ground. “Well?” she said impatiently.
“Of course we do,” John replied hastily. “Come on then, let’s go.”
***
The man roughly pulled Austin out of the back of the van. It had been a fairly short but bumpy journey. Austin was covered in bruises and felt far too weak to battle against the fully fit man who was holding his arms tightly.
He was taken down various corridors, decorated with all of the flags of every country and there didn’t appear to be two guards of the same ethnic origin. The man who had arrested Austin was a white man, most likely English, and was dressed in a intimidating purple and black uniform.
Austin was thrust into a small cell and the door slammed behind him. He lay down, to tired to do anything else and immediately fell asleep.
“Keep a close eye on that one,” said the man to one of the guards as he walked away.
“Sure thing boss,” he replied.
***
Helen, John, and Claire arrived at the Anti Religion Police Force (ARPF) headquarters and it was now very cold and snow had begun to fall lightly. They looked around for any signs of a spotlight or an alarm system and to their surprise they found none. The three of them ran towards the main building and paused for breath in the alcove in front of the side entrance.
“When we do get inside,” said Claire, “how will we find Austin?”
“I don’t know,” said Helen.
“And how will we get past the guards?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Helen.
“And opening the cell door won’t be easy either.”
“Look!” snapped Helen, “I don’t know how we’ll solve theses problems. We’ll just work them out as we…”
Helen was interrupted by a loud sound. A huge vehicle was moving onto the courtyard outside the main entrance to the headquarters. The snow was falling heavily now and so it took them a while to work out exactly what the vehicle was.
“Oh no,” cried John, “it’s the transporter to the camps.”
“It’s a day early, I don’t understand,” said a now sobbing Helen.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. It may not be recognised as a religious time anymore but people are still happy to accept it as an excuse for a day off work.”
Helen began to run towards the vehicle, occasionally slipping as the floor became icy, and having to brush her hair with her hand as it became full of falling snow. Just as she reached the vehicle she saw Austin being carried in. Asleep? Unconscious? Dead? She didn’t know but she was determined to save him. She kicked one of the two men who were carrying Austin and he dropped Austin’s legs as he grabbed his own in pain. The man’s partner turned to Helen and let Austin drop to the hard floor and ran after the now fleeing girl. The man easily caught up with her and pounced, causing her to crash face first into the snow. She screamed but the man covered her mouth quickly and held her in a fireman’s lift.
As she was carried towards the ARPF headquarters, she looked behind her and saw John and Claire being tackled by a couple of well built guards and they too were being forced into a building. She cried and looked towards Austin’s body, which had been abandoned on the floor.
He lay completely lifeless, clearly not breathing, clearly dead. His skull had cracked as he dropped to the floor and his scarlet blood had begun to slowly trickle into the rapidly thickening snow.
Helen was taken to an office at the back of the building where she was placed in front of the man who had originally arrested Austin. She wanted to tell him what he’d caused, how stopping a group of young children from enjoying a harmless exercise simply because of the deluded ideas that people would be offended by such actions had caused the death of a boy who hadn’t even reached 10 years old. She wanted to explain that the whole system was completely flawed but she couldn’t bring the words out due to the tears caused by her grief, though even if she could speak she knew that it would be pointless. She had no power, no say, and no rights.
The man produced the same evil smile that he’d produced only a few hours earlier when he arrested Austin. “Take her to the van,” he said.
Helen hung her head and let out even more sobs and screams. She was rapidly carried away and dumped into the van, where she saw John and Claire sitting in a corner, blindfolded and with gags across their mouths. Helen could not believe that simply singing carols had led to this. She had known it was dangerous, as had the others, but she was a Christian, and as a Christian she felt it was her duty to go out and celebrate the birth of Christ.
She did not hope for death when she had gone out that night but she didn’t fear it. At least, she didn’t fear it until it stood right in front of her. Extermination was guaranteed at the camp, and now, more than ever, she doubted her faith.
As I'm sure is quite obvious, I made this up entirely as I went along. Absolutely no planning went into it and at first I was expecting the involvement of Father Christmas appearing with a large gun. However, I resisted the temptation. Also, this is my first attempt at a serious story, previously I've only tried comedy so I decided a change was needed. It does mean that the story is probably a bit crap though, and not full of complex adjectives that nobody fully understands like everybody elses seem to. That's enough rambling so read the story, enjoy it if you can, and then criticise (in a helpful manner, of course).
------------------------
“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
Oh come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
come and behold him, born the Kin…”
“That’s enough of that kind of talk thank you very much.” A tall figure stood in the moonlight, a giant in comparison to the small children innocently singing Christmas hymns, full of happiness as the big day drew closer when the big man in his red fur coat would deliver all the presents.
“I’m sure I’ve warned you before,” he continued, in a voice that did not convey the traditional spirit of the festivities. “You know what happens when you’re caught a second time, don’t you?” A cruel smile came over his face as he said this. The children moved back in fear, clinging tightly to each other as they did so. There was one child that stayed fixed in his original position though, a boy of about 9 years of age, fairly tall (although still minute when stood next to the man), short hair, and large blue eyes. He stood confidently with his shoulders back and his head held high, showing no fear of the man in front of him.
“I’m going to have to arrest all five of you. Such a shame during the holiday period.” The man gave out a small laugh as he spoke.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said the boy, trying to be courageous but his voice trembled tremendously as he spoke. The smirk on the man’s face disappeared instantly and he glared intensely at the boy.
“You, what is your name?” he asked threateningly to the boy without blinking once.
“Austin Buckeridge,” came the reply, this time more assertively than when he previously spoke to the man.
“Well, well, Master Buckeridge, you are a brave boy aren’t you? First you come out singing those forbidden songs, and now you are refusing to take your punishment. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.”
“It shouldn’t be a crime, we’re not harming anybody.”
“Oh, but you are,” came a sharp response. “You are in a multi-cultural country. It is wrong to celebrate your Christian festivals when it may offend people of other races who have moved into Britain. You should be proud to be part of an age where people with ancestors from all across the globe can live together in harmony. However, people like you make life difficult, you are what is known as a racist. By singing those vile songs you are saying that you support the Christian faith and therefore you care not about the beliefs of others, it is highly selfish and ignorant. I suppose you wish we still had public Christmas trees don’t you? Bah, you people make me sick. Come here!”
The man lunged for the boy in front of him. He grabbed the boy’s leg and the boy struggled and squirmed trying to break free from the amazingly tight grip that the man had on him. The other children managed to run away whilst their friend was being pulled into a firmer hold. The man pulled the boy in and put him in an arm lock before standing up and frog marching the boy into the back of his black van.
***
The four children ran as fast as they could away from the police man who had caught their friend. Since 2017 it had been illegal to publicly celebrate religious holidays in any shape or form. Despite this, some people just couldn’t hide their faith away and would continue singing festive songs or put religious artefacts on view, and so a special police force was set up to deal with such problems. Christmas was always one of the busiest times of the year for them.
The children stopped at a large house and one of the girls opened the door and they all quickly ran in, panting as they did. The girl spoke, “We must help Austin. We all know that the camps are not safe so we must we rescue him from the holding cells before the next load are sent off. That gives us only one day as the next collection is tomorrow, Christmas Eve.”
There was a deathly silence among the other three children. The girl continued, “James is too young, so that leaves only myself, John, and Claire. We must go tonight.”
“Tonight!” exclaimed John. “But Helen, we haven’t got a plan or anything. We’re dealing with dangerous people, they know what they’re doing, the security to their facilities is the best available.”
“It’s now or never,” said Helen. “Austin only has a short amount of time to live, we can’t risk waiting until tomorrow. Besides, we’ll be safe, God is on our side.” The other children looked at each other uneasily, not entirely convinced that God’s help would be enough. “Do you not have faith?” asked Helen, sternly. The others looked towards the ground. “Well?” she said impatiently.
“Of course we do,” John replied hastily. “Come on then, let’s go.”
***
The man roughly pulled Austin out of the back of the van. It had been a fairly short but bumpy journey. Austin was covered in bruises and felt far too weak to battle against the fully fit man who was holding his arms tightly.
He was taken down various corridors, decorated with all of the flags of every country and there didn’t appear to be two guards of the same ethnic origin. The man who had arrested Austin was a white man, most likely English, and was dressed in a intimidating purple and black uniform.
Austin was thrust into a small cell and the door slammed behind him. He lay down, to tired to do anything else and immediately fell asleep.
“Keep a close eye on that one,” said the man to one of the guards as he walked away.
“Sure thing boss,” he replied.
***
Helen, John, and Claire arrived at the Anti Religion Police Force (ARPF) headquarters and it was now very cold and snow had begun to fall lightly. They looked around for any signs of a spotlight or an alarm system and to their surprise they found none. The three of them ran towards the main building and paused for breath in the alcove in front of the side entrance.
“When we do get inside,” said Claire, “how will we find Austin?”
“I don’t know,” said Helen.
“And how will we get past the guards?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Helen.
“And opening the cell door won’t be easy either.”
“Look!” snapped Helen, “I don’t know how we’ll solve theses problems. We’ll just work them out as we…”
Helen was interrupted by a loud sound. A huge vehicle was moving onto the courtyard outside the main entrance to the headquarters. The snow was falling heavily now and so it took them a while to work out exactly what the vehicle was.
“Oh no,” cried John, “it’s the transporter to the camps.”
“It’s a day early, I don’t understand,” said a now sobbing Helen.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. It may not be recognised as a religious time anymore but people are still happy to accept it as an excuse for a day off work.”
Helen began to run towards the vehicle, occasionally slipping as the floor became icy, and having to brush her hair with her hand as it became full of falling snow. Just as she reached the vehicle she saw Austin being carried in. Asleep? Unconscious? Dead? She didn’t know but she was determined to save him. She kicked one of the two men who were carrying Austin and he dropped Austin’s legs as he grabbed his own in pain. The man’s partner turned to Helen and let Austin drop to the hard floor and ran after the now fleeing girl. The man easily caught up with her and pounced, causing her to crash face first into the snow. She screamed but the man covered her mouth quickly and held her in a fireman’s lift.
As she was carried towards the ARPF headquarters, she looked behind her and saw John and Claire being tackled by a couple of well built guards and they too were being forced into a building. She cried and looked towards Austin’s body, which had been abandoned on the floor.
He lay completely lifeless, clearly not breathing, clearly dead. His skull had cracked as he dropped to the floor and his scarlet blood had begun to slowly trickle into the rapidly thickening snow.
Helen was taken to an office at the back of the building where she was placed in front of the man who had originally arrested Austin. She wanted to tell him what he’d caused, how stopping a group of young children from enjoying a harmless exercise simply because of the deluded ideas that people would be offended by such actions had caused the death of a boy who hadn’t even reached 10 years old. She wanted to explain that the whole system was completely flawed but she couldn’t bring the words out due to the tears caused by her grief, though even if she could speak she knew that it would be pointless. She had no power, no say, and no rights.
The man produced the same evil smile that he’d produced only a few hours earlier when he arrested Austin. “Take her to the van,” he said.
Helen hung her head and let out even more sobs and screams. She was rapidly carried away and dumped into the van, where she saw John and Claire sitting in a corner, blindfolded and with gags across their mouths. Helen could not believe that simply singing carols had led to this. She had known it was dangerous, as had the others, but she was a Christian, and as a Christian she felt it was her duty to go out and celebrate the birth of Christ.
She did not hope for death when she had gone out that night but she didn’t fear it. At least, she didn’t fear it until it stood right in front of her. Extermination was guaranteed at the camp, and now, more than ever, she doubted her faith.
------------------------
“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
Oh come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
come and behold him, born the Kin…”
“That’s enough of that kind of talk thank you very much.” A tall figure stood in the moonlight, a giant in comparison to the small children innocently singing Christmas hymns, full of happiness as the big day drew closer when the big man in his red fur coat would deliver all the presents.
“I’m sure I’ve warned you before,” he continued, in a voice that did not convey the traditional spirit of the festivities. “You know what happens when you’re caught a second time, don’t you?” A cruel smile came over his face as he said this. The children moved back in fear, clinging tightly to each other as they did so. There was one child that stayed fixed in his original position though, a boy of about 9 years of age, fairly tall (although still minute when stood next to the man), short hair, and large blue eyes. He stood confidently with his shoulders back and his head held high, showing no fear of the man in front of him.
“I’m going to have to arrest all five of you. Such a shame during the holiday period.” The man gave out a small laugh as he spoke.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said the boy, trying to be courageous but his voice trembled tremendously as he spoke. The smirk on the man’s face disappeared instantly and he glared intensely at the boy.
“You, what is your name?” he asked threateningly to the boy without blinking once.
“Austin Buckeridge,” came the reply, this time more assertively than when he previously spoke to the man.
“Well, well, Master Buckeridge, you are a brave boy aren’t you? First you come out singing those forbidden songs, and now you are refusing to take your punishment. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.”
“It shouldn’t be a crime, we’re not harming anybody.”
“Oh, but you are,” came a sharp response. “You are in a multi-cultural country. It is wrong to celebrate your Christian festivals when it may offend people of other races who have moved into Britain. You should be proud to be part of an age where people with ancestors from all across the globe can live together in harmony. However, people like you make life difficult, you are what is known as a racist. By singing those vile songs you are saying that you support the Christian faith and therefore you care not about the beliefs of others, it is highly selfish and ignorant. I suppose you wish we still had public Christmas trees don’t you? Bah, you people make me sick. Come here!”
The man lunged for the boy in front of him. He grabbed the boy’s leg and the boy struggled and squirmed trying to break free from the amazingly tight grip that the man had on him. The other children managed to run away whilst their friend was being pulled into a firmer hold. The man pulled the boy in and put him in an arm lock before standing up and frog marching the boy into the back of his black van.
***
The four children ran as fast as they could away from the police man who had caught their friend. Since 2017 it had been illegal to publicly celebrate religious holidays in any shape or form. Despite this, some people just couldn’t hide their faith away and would continue singing festive songs or put religious artefacts on view, and so a special police force was set up to deal with such problems. Christmas was always one of the busiest times of the year for them.
The children stopped at a large house and one of the girls opened the door and they all quickly ran in, panting as they did. The girl spoke, “We must help Austin. We all know that the camps are not safe so we must we rescue him from the holding cells before the next load are sent off. That gives us only one day as the next collection is tomorrow, Christmas Eve.”
There was a deathly silence among the other three children. The girl continued, “James is too young, so that leaves only myself, John, and Claire. We must go tonight.”
“Tonight!” exclaimed John. “But Helen, we haven’t got a plan or anything. We’re dealing with dangerous people, they know what they’re doing, the security to their facilities is the best available.”
“It’s now or never,” said Helen. “Austin only has a short amount of time to live, we can’t risk waiting until tomorrow. Besides, we’ll be safe, God is on our side.” The other children looked at each other uneasily, not entirely convinced that God’s help would be enough. “Do you not have faith?” asked Helen, sternly. The others looked towards the ground. “Well?” she said impatiently.
“Of course we do,” John replied hastily. “Come on then, let’s go.”
***
The man roughly pulled Austin out of the back of the van. It had been a fairly short but bumpy journey. Austin was covered in bruises and felt far too weak to battle against the fully fit man who was holding his arms tightly.
He was taken down various corridors, decorated with all of the flags of every country and there didn’t appear to be two guards of the same ethnic origin. The man who had arrested Austin was a white man, most likely English, and was dressed in a intimidating purple and black uniform.
Austin was thrust into a small cell and the door slammed behind him. He lay down, to tired to do anything else and immediately fell asleep.
“Keep a close eye on that one,” said the man to one of the guards as he walked away.
“Sure thing boss,” he replied.
***
Helen, John, and Claire arrived at the Anti Religion Police Force (ARPF) headquarters and it was now very cold and snow had begun to fall lightly. They looked around for any signs of a spotlight or an alarm system and to their surprise they found none. The three of them ran towards the main building and paused for breath in the alcove in front of the side entrance.
“When we do get inside,” said Claire, “how will we find Austin?”
“I don’t know,” said Helen.
“And how will we get past the guards?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Helen.
“And opening the cell door won’t be easy either.”
“Look!” snapped Helen, “I don’t know how we’ll solve theses problems. We’ll just work them out as we…”
Helen was interrupted by a loud sound. A huge vehicle was moving onto the courtyard outside the main entrance to the headquarters. The snow was falling heavily now and so it took them a while to work out exactly what the vehicle was.
“Oh no,” cried John, “it’s the transporter to the camps.”
“It’s a day early, I don’t understand,” said a now sobbing Helen.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. It may not be recognised as a religious time anymore but people are still happy to accept it as an excuse for a day off work.”
Helen began to run towards the vehicle, occasionally slipping as the floor became icy, and having to brush her hair with her hand as it became full of falling snow. Just as she reached the vehicle she saw Austin being carried in. Asleep? Unconscious? Dead? She didn’t know but she was determined to save him. She kicked one of the two men who were carrying Austin and he dropped Austin’s legs as he grabbed his own in pain. The man’s partner turned to Helen and let Austin drop to the hard floor and ran after the now fleeing girl. The man easily caught up with her and pounced, causing her to crash face first into the snow. She screamed but the man covered her mouth quickly and held her in a fireman’s lift.
As she was carried towards the ARPF headquarters, she looked behind her and saw John and Claire being tackled by a couple of well built guards and they too were being forced into a building. She cried and looked towards Austin’s body, which had been abandoned on the floor.
He lay completely lifeless, clearly not breathing, clearly dead. His skull had cracked as he dropped to the floor and his scarlet blood had begun to slowly trickle into the rapidly thickening snow.
Helen was taken to an office at the back of the building where she was placed in front of the man who had originally arrested Austin. She wanted to tell him what he’d caused, how stopping a group of young children from enjoying a harmless exercise simply because of the deluded ideas that people would be offended by such actions had caused the death of a boy who hadn’t even reached 10 years old. She wanted to explain that the whole system was completely flawed but she couldn’t bring the words out due to the tears caused by her grief, though even if she could speak she knew that it would be pointless. She had no power, no say, and no rights.
The man produced the same evil smile that he’d produced only a few hours earlier when he arrested Austin. “Take her to the van,” he said.
Helen hung her head and let out even more sobs and screams. She was rapidly carried away and dumped into the van, where she saw John and Claire sitting in a corner, blindfolded and with gags across their mouths. Helen could not believe that simply singing carols had led to this. She had known it was dangerous, as had the others, but she was a Christian, and as a Christian she felt it was her duty to go out and celebrate the birth of Christ.
She did not hope for death when she had gone out that night but she didn’t fear it. At least, she didn’t fear it until it stood right in front of her. Extermination was guaranteed at the camp, and now, more than ever, she doubted her faith.
Awww, no-one's read you yet, poor ickle lonely story.
It's okay now, I'm here ...
Oop, sorry. Yes, that was great - PC-farce is always as welcome as it is wholly possible. I would say that for a kid, Helen sounded about 35 when she spoke, but aside from that, good stuff.
It's okay now, I'm here ...
Oop, sorry. Yes, that was great - PC-farce is always as welcome as it is wholly possible. I would say that for a kid, Helen sounded about 35 when she spoke, but aside from that, good stuff.
FinalFantasyFanatic wrote:
> Awww, no-one's read you yet, poor ickle lonely story.
It's so sad.
You've had a busy afternoon FFF, that's a lot of stories that you've read and commented on.
> Awww, no-one's read you yet, poor ickle lonely story.
It's so sad.
You've had a busy afternoon FFF, that's a lot of stories that you've read and commented on.
Well, it's hardly a chore, but I always try to read everything.
Three comp's worth in one day was perhaps a little too much, but them's the breaks.
Three comp's worth in one day was perhaps a little too much, but them's the breaks.
Austin Buckeridge.
Haha. Classic.
Good, but like FFF said, Helen sounds 35...
Plus it's all quite odd.
Haha. Classic.
Good, but like FFF said, Helen sounds 35...
Plus it's all quite odd.
Clazon wrote:
> Austin Buckeridge.
>
> Haha. Classic.
I was wondering if anyone would notice.
> Good, but like FFF said, Helen sounds 35...
Yeah, but it's hard to write for a 9 year old. I'm not skilled enough yet.
> Plus it's all quite odd.
I find it hard to write 100% serious and normal stories. I need a bit of weirdness in them.
> Austin Buckeridge.
>
> Haha. Classic.
I was wondering if anyone would notice.
> Good, but like FFF said, Helen sounds 35...
Yeah, but it's hard to write for a 9 year old. I'm not skilled enough yet.
> Plus it's all quite odd.
I find it hard to write 100% serious and normal stories. I need a bit of weirdness in them.
Quite believable, really. Enjoyable enough, and a strong ending with the doubting of faith.