Morning all. It is a cold drizzly sort of day where I am and I seriously doubt the sun will put in an appearance today. But as I have plenty to occupy me at my desk, it isn’t that big a deal. Once the coffee hits and I am well awake I will forget all about it. At the moment though, it is making me want to go back to sleep. So let’s do a writing prompt instead. Timers set? then let them go.
Hmm, spun my sheels a lot on this one but I think there are a few things I could tease out for later use. Not too bad on a rainy Thursday morning.
Thursday, January 21st: He grew so frustrated he yelled at whoever was near.
He grew so frustrated that he yelled at whoever was near. He knew it wasn’t their fault. He knew that they in fact had nothing to do with it. Anyone who was involved in anyway was long gone, cleared out until the deed was done. That left only innocents within the firing range.
‘Well relative innocents,’ George self-corrected. He doubted anyone he knew would be considered pure and clean if it came down to it.
‘Just by being around me they would be tainted,’ he thought sourly. George was given a choice. He was smart enough to know it was a political one and he was smart enough to know he was being used.
He knew everyone else was smart enough to know he knew as well which is why they stayed away until his choice was made and his decision permanently inked into record. George came from a long line of the Donshna. Despite the fact that the conquerors labeled them as barbarians, during and after the invasion, they couldn’t quite survive without the native inhabitants. If their numbers grew too low then things started happening. The land itself revolted.
George knew there was a reason why, his father studied such things and he remembered there were lectures when he was small. But it had been a long time since he had been small and he could barely remember anything but the boredom and the scent of the tobacco his father used in his pipe. The words were long since faded and his father had been long since buried.
In fact by now, all of his family was long gone. He suspected it was why the government felt safe in offering him this choice.
With no family left to force him into tradition, George forged his own path. He made his own life and earned himself a reputation and even a degree of fame. He did not act like a Donshna publicly and privately he doubted anyone would remark on any differences between him and those who were descended from the conquerors. But there were new things in the world now. And those that ruled, those descended from the conquers still despised the need for the Donshna to exist. There were things they did, things that needed to be done to keep the land happy. There were rumors that a new technology had been forged, one that would take away their reliance on the Donshna once and for all. George dismissed the rumors, there were always rumors. This one however proved more fact than rumor and in the fact of the fact, new laws were being written. The first among them a registry.
George, because of his fame, his skills, his notoriety was being given a choice. While he never hid the fact that he was Donshna he didn’t flaunt it either. He considered it like telling someone that rain was wet. If they cared to know they could, if they didn’t he saw no reason to point it out. His choice was to either formally renounce his Donshna blood and be counted on the registry as one of the Donshna and suffer whatever further restrictions followed. He knew there would be restrictions. He had seen the draft of the first of the laws. They made certain he saw the draft. It prohibited any Donshna from participating in certain professions.
He was being given the option, renounce his people or lose his life’s work. He knew that whatever choice he made would be used publicly He suspected both sides would attempt to either raise him as an example of vilify him for his choice. Both sides came to him asking him to join them. The traditional Donshna who crossed the street to avoid him and those that ruled who tolerated him for his work, but made certain never to get close, washed their hands when they left him and denigrated him behind his back. He wondered if they realized he despised both sides equally at this point.
“Perhaps there is a third option,” he mused.
Ten til Midnight 