None Of Us Did Enough (Tidbit Thursday 2/6/14)

None Of Us Did Enough

Sometimes intention is all that’s needed. Plans are for sensible acts and sensible people. When insanity is the goal, flying by the swirling winds of a Spring storm is the only acceptable approach.

“Rodney! What are you doing?” The boy asked.

It was a wonder he could even form a question at that time. Rodney always figured a gun pressed against a person’s head would leave them mostly speechless. If things went right, maybe this kid was destined for big things.

“I’m taking it all back! Everything this place, you people have taken from me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Where could he possibly begin? The abuses only served to add to the grand total. Their individual severities were too indistinguishable to pick just one and have it represent the greater tragedy.

“You’ve seen it Peter. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. The way everyone pretends like she isn’t there. But you can’t deny that she exists. Everytime she comes something bad happens.” Rodney said.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Rodney had come to believe that the young man who was now his hostage would understand. There was something about the boy that defied what most said about him. He was just some rich kid, who wanted to test the waters of self-sustainability. He wouldn’t last long, as soon as he realized his paycheck wasn’t enough to pay for a lifestyle he was more accustomed to, he’d quit and go running back to his wealth. Rodney didn’t believe it. He always pulled for him, always gave him credit. At least he was trying to see a life beyond the veil of financial security. It was that search for something different that led Rodney to think that Peter could also see her.

“Yes you do! Think about it. Can’t you hear the sound of those fucking heels on the floor? She was always there, when our hours got cut. When the benefits were changed. She was the one who made it happen.”

“That’s not how it works man.” Peter said.

The sky was clear and the late afternoon sun made it look like the glowing element of a electric stove. It was all illusion though, clear skies in the winter only meant cold. Pretty faces and well tended to clothing in a sea of company issued polos and plain slacks only meant trouble.

“It is how it works. Look out there, what do you see?’ Rodney asked.
Peter gazed out over the small town he had ran to. From their position he could see nearly the whole of the streets and homes. It had been settled by workers looking to exploit the river and the valley. On the far ridge tall pines reached for the nonexistent clouds, on the other side, a concrete cube that held one of thousands of department stores, owned by the corporation both Peter and Rodney called employers.

“I see the town. What about it?”

“Look over there, where main street starts curving up. What’s that?”

“It’s the courthouse.”

“And above that a few blocks. what’s that?”

“It’s the church.”

“Exactly. Law and God, and we’re still above them. We can still look down on them. This place doesn’t care about what’s right, like the law does. And it definitely doesn’t love us like God. That’s why it doesn’t think twice about stealing the food from my children’s plate. That’s why it can watch as my wife dies, weighing out whether paying for treatment is cost effective or not. It just watches us man. Except when it wants to really fuck with you, then they send her.”

The howl of sirens announced the approach of the police. In each car a policeman sat and at each one of their hips a gun sat, unused yet anxious.

“Jesus man, I’m sorry about Rebecca, we all are. We liked her. You know that, remember the Christmas party you guys through, how we all crammed into your place, there was barely room, but we all came. Don’t do this.”

“Relax Peter. I’m not going to kill you. I’m teaching you a lesson. They’re going to take it all away. They won’t care. It’s not enough to think differently than them, you’re not safe. You have to be them. Go home.” Rodney said as he let go of Peter’s collar.

The police cars converged on the parking lot, followed closely by a pair of ambulances. There was little warning. Perhaps an attempt or two to talk Rodney down peacefully, but the rush of killing far outweighed procedure. Bullet after bullet tore their tiny holes through his body. Small unimpressive marks on his skin emerged as each new piece of metal found its way to his flesh.

As the chaos died down and the last of the gunshots’ reverberations died away, Rodney fell to the ground. A woman appeared above him. She pressed two fingers to his neck. He could see the pines from the other side of the valley in her eyes. Yet, she wasn’t wearing the pencil skirt or the high heels he was used to.

“I knew it.” Rodney coughed out.

“It’s okay, you did what you needed to.” She whispered.

She then raised to stand upright. The orange sky behind her crept into Rodney’s eyes, leaving only itself to be seen.

“He’s gone.”


Hello, Jonathan here. So I’m thinking I need to create some sort of logo for these Tidbit Thursdays. Just a little something to spruce up the links that get shared on Facebook and Google+. Have any ideas? Let me know down here in the comments on Google+ or on Twitter.


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