Verbatim

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Summary

Before the trials and the Marked. Agreciors needed a foundation. They became the “saviors” of the world. The heralds of the respect, of honesty, of chivalry, of everything our human flaws yearned to see in our empty hearts. Then, being a murderer could get you Marked. And we agreed. Then, stealing could get you Marked. Again we cheered. Finally a government, finally a leader who helped us and understood us. Justice was right again. Then speaking out got you Marked. And people argued against others on the fairness of that rule. They protect us. Was a common throwaway line. How dare you argue? Do you know better? Then speaking your own mind, your own thoughts, everything that made us human became legal grounds to get us Marked. See, even writing this could get me Marked. This is the story of the people and if I am killed it won’t stop this story from being told. I have hidden 18 copies of this story, verbatim, around the globe. Hidden in places of comfort, in places of strife, and even within their own facilities. Once I die, I have another who is willing to make more copies, continue the story. I only have one regret. And it is of personal nature. If you read this, dad, I’ll be dead. Don’t cry. I died for what I believed in. My last wish is that you don’t find the angel of death whilst among the sin you continue to commit.

Genre:
Adventure / Fantasy
Author:
newnight_
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
5
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
16+

Prologue

When someone hears the cracking of the trees they close their windows. The blinding lightning causes goosebumps in their veins. The aching of another one lost. The fear of another one marked. It is an everyday lifestyle for kids. They had grown up in this situation. They even made their own anthem:

Avoid the trees

The lightning cracks

Avoid the breaking of your backs

Avoid the screams the tears the dead

Those who survived, marked with red

Avoid the trees

Avoid the skies

Avoid the Marked or you have died

The anthem tended to be repeated like a new nursery rhyme. The children believed in hope. Something the adults had long forgotten about. Hope brought about love and freedom. It led humans to their first fire, first artist, first believer, first love.

Negative things could also come from hope. The first thieves, murderers, and disobeyers came from the hope of starting a new, stealing, or even the worst form of hope, Agreciors.

See, hundreds of years before the Agreciors came people were happy. Living in houses, having food to eat, and having the leisure time to do anything other than Scroaking. At least that is what the youngins called it. Scroaking. Slowly croaking. Slowly dying.

But once the Agrecior took hold no one could stop it. Now everyone lived in silent equality and the first signs of any independence led to a series of trials. First, the marking. The marking was a small permanent sphere embedded in the Indep’s face. Indep, another new term the youngins came up with. Short for an independent person. Someone who dared think the Agreciors were wrong. Second was the trees. They’d begin to shift and form a barrier around the Indep’s house.

Third was the lightning and finally came the screams. Everyone heard it, most tried to ignore it while those who tried to help were Marked.

So things like childish rhymes were created.

Avoid the trees, became like an omen.

The lightning cracks became a warning.

Avoid the breaking of your backs was a way of teaching children not to be independent,

Avoid the screams, the tears, the dead

Those who survived, (rarely anyone did), marked with red

Avoid the trees

Avoid the skies

Avoid the Marked or you have died

These childish rhymes filled the world as adults tried to stop Independence. It was the new generation’s way of being heard.

It became a healer to all remedies.

Every depressing page, poem, story ever written. Everything anti-agrecior was ordered by the Head, on January 23, 2101, to be burned.

Coincidentally, the same day I was born.

Now please listen. Because this is important.

Alright, of course I exaggerated. Not everyone died. Of course there were those who weren’t caught. Indeps in the deepest forest of the Amazon or farthest in the Sahara desert in the Sahara.

Most who could, left for them. The new promise land’s were in what used to be “third world” countries. Something the Agreciors found especially amusing as the Earth was the third world from the Sun. Those countries lived in poverty, hunger and strife, but they were free. That is what kept a lot of them going, kept them alive. It kept people in Afghanistan skating, people in Uganda singing. It left Vietnam, Cambodia and Nigeria free.

It created new countries, new beliefs. Something the Agreciors despised and yet couldn’t stop. The Great Awakening as mass migrations to Africa, South America, the Middle East, Asia, and Antarctica began. The United States, the United Arab Emirates, and the United Kingdom had been the first target. Not only because of the vast tensions and the economic and sociological gaps between its people, but simply because the word “united” was included in their names. They were divided through simple whisperings at first.

And then the Agreciors mixed falsehood and truth. People fought over the smallest things. Ignored the deaths of those who didn’t need to leave the world so young. In the end, the people destroyed themselves.

Before the trials and the Marked. Agreciors needed a foundation. They became the “saviors” of the world. The heralds of the respect, of honesty, of chivalry, of everything our human flaws yearned to see in our empty hearts. Then, being a murderer could get you Marked. And we agreed. Then, stealing could get you Marked. Again we cheered. Finally a government, finally a leader who helped us and understood us. Justice was right again.

Then speaking out got you Marked. And people argued against others on the fairness of that rule. They protect us. Was a common throwaway line. How dare you argue? Do you know better?

Then speaking your own mind, your own thoughts, everything that made us human became legal grounds to get us Marked.

See, even writing this could get me Marked. This is the story of the people and if I am killed it won’t stop this story from being told. I have hidden 18 copies of this story, verbatim, around the globe. Hidden in places of comfort, in places of strife, and even within their own facilities. Once I die, I have another who is willing to make more copies, continue the story.

I only have one regret. And it is of personal nature.

If you read this, dad, I’ll be dead. Don’t cry. I died for what I believed in. My last wish is that you don’t find the angel of death whilst among the sin you continue to commit.

Continue Reading Next Chapter
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