Pax Infinitum

Hey all.
I don't often come to the org anymore (stupid rl taking up all my time :laugh4: ) but I've recently had to do a short story for an English assignment at school and I figured i'd post it up here and see what you all think of it. It's a bit overwritten and some parts aren't said very clearly but imo it's okay.

I think this is where I save myself some face by mentioning that i don't particularly like writing :P I also think i'll mention that i was a bit constrained by the task set, but i still reckon that it's alright (I have to say that really - if i think it's bad, imagine what someone else would think :o ) Try not to laugh :D

Well, here it is:

Pax Infinitum

“Take cover!” screamed an onlooker, amidst the enveloping sounds of gunfire. All around him, bullets were whizzing past, and each man there was taking his chances with fate. Over the din of the battle, the throck-throck-throck of a helicopter’s rotors could be heard, as the black beast made its way over the city, cutting down all in its path.
“No,” called back the man who had just been warned, “God will protect me”.
And for a moment it seemed as if he was right. Despite walking through the heat of the battle the man remained unscathed, bullets missing him by inches, coming ever close but not hitting. It was not to last. Shouts rang out from a three story building on one side of the street, and within moments men on the balconies had began spraying the area with bullets. On the other side of the street, rival militants soon responded, as the battle moved closer. Hidden in a dark alleyway, all the onlookers could do was watch as the man was caught in the crossfire. God or not, there was to be no saving him.

15 Years Later
Alexius paced the room impatiently, waiting for some news, some hope, that his plans might finally come to fruition. That was to come soon, but it was not what he had hoped and prayed for for so long. Around him were the ghosts of a past that did not bear remembering, all its relics quickly falling into disrepair. Truly, it was not a place one would go to if they had a choice. But as Alexius did not, he continued his pacing, listening to the familiar silence that enveloped him, a silence that, like his hopes and dreams, was soon to be broken. For now, all he could do was wait, and stare out of the dusty, broken window into the darkened street beyond, discarded – like the rest of the area – by an uncaring, apathetic society.

However, all was not as it seemed. In the darkness, a million miles away, the seeds of Alexius’s hopes and dreams had grown to maturity. All the years of pain and fear could now be avenged. And the method of that vengeance was approaching out of the darkness. Out of the silence of the night emerged a man who would not look out of place in either a war zone or an exclusive club, so nondescript was his clothing; or, as Alexius would say bitterly, the whole world is a battleground.

Clad in dark clothing, the man walked at a measured pace up to the door of Alexius’ house. One knock, then two, then one again. The designated signal. Alexius paused his pacing. Could this, then, be the sign that he had awaited for so long? Whispers wafted up the stairwell from the doorway, preceding the sound of a door closing and twin sets of footsteps echoing off the stairs. Conversation was conspicuously absent. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they stopped.
Alexius turned, “Show him in.”

As the man made his way into the room, Alexius resumed his pacing.
“Speak.”
“It is all as you have directed. Everything is in place.”
They spoke as if brother to brother, though in truth they had met but once; but a strange form of fraternity seemed to unite the two.
“It will be done then. Tomorrow, it will all be over.”
The stranger walked across the room and sat down.
“Yes…It shall.”
Continuing to pace, Alexius began to talk. The men talked of things past and present, things that were and things that might be.
“What is a man’s life but his legacy?” mused Alexius as the two were deep in discussion. The stranger nodded, as if an important point had been reached, and there they waited, alone with their thoughts, until morn.
As dawn light trickled in through the cracks in the dilapidated wall, Alexius rose from his seat, finally abandoning the position in which he had lain for the many hours of the night. He looked over at the stranger from the night before, who was also lying as he had been the previous night. Content that he was indeed asleep, Alexius left the room and wandered down the corridor until his footsteps were merely echoes. His path, seemingly by accident, took him past the room that his compatriot had retired into the night before. Barely pausing to think – and in doing so belying his intentions – Alexius entered the room.
The moment that he did, the stranger opened his eyes. Walking silently over to a cabinet on the wall, he picked the lock, and soundlessly opened the latched door.
“Interesting,” he murmured, “very interesting.”
Reaching inside, he removed one of the many items that were scattered across the shelves. Smiling, he examined it minutely, going so far as to hold it up to his face for close examination. Then, chuckling, he tossed it back on the shelf.
“We’ll see about that.”

Even as the stranger made his way back to his seat, Alexius was finishing talking with his compatriot and making ready to return to the window room.
“I do not care,” he muttered, “It must be done today. You know that as well as I do.”
Upon leaving the room, lines of worry and fatigue stretched across Alexius’ face, but as he walked down the corridor he made sure to put on the blank facade that he had worn for so long, as if to please cameras that were not there. By the time he had returned to the room, the stranger was back, apparently dozing in his seat, all trace of movement erased.
“It is time,” Alexius said, shaking the stranger awake, “we must go now”.
“So be it,” replied the stranger.

Dressed in civilian clothing, Alexius and the stranger took off into the city, and if all was well, people would be doing the same thing all around the country. It had been Alexius’ idea, right from the start, to have a unified and yet peaceful protest; to bring their plight to the attention of the world. So far, it seemed to be working and soon, he mused, everyone would pull off their overcoats, revealing what lay underneath. That would get the media’s attention!
Finally, they arrived. Shaking each other’s hands, Alexius and the stranger parted company, each heading for a different part of the city. At the appointed time, Alexius removed his overcoat. Underneath it was a belt, full of bulky items. Explosives, or so it seemed. As all around the country, as people began to do the same thing, attention was focused on the group. Seeing this, Alexius smiled. It would happen, then. All that he had hoped and wished for would come to be.

It started in another city, in another place. Men began to pull the cords on their belts, releasing into the atmosphere nothing more harmful than coloured gas, to the astonishment on onlookers, who had been fearing the worst. Green, for freedom. Blue, for liberty. Red, for loss. And all around the country this was happening; a spectacle so stunning in its coordination that it could not be missed.

Alexius beamed. Peaceful resistance. No one had tried that one. He was making his point, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Reaching down to his belt, he pulled the cord, still smiling to himself at his victory over oppression.

The explosion echoed throughout the city, and afterwards there was a sickening silence, the colours of the protest being lost amidst the haze of smoke and flames. Some witnesses later claimed that it was worse than the tragedy fifteen years ago that Alexius had been trying so hard to avenge.

Peaceful protest, in itself, is a good idea mused the stranger who had called at the house the previous night and had been the architect of this particular plan. It does leave you terrible vulnerable, though. A pity. Alexius seemed like a nice guy. Turning away from the scene in front of him, people now converging on it in droves, the stranger began picking his way through the rubble. Yes, a fine idea. But you can’t change fate.

Pax Infinitum by Sean 'sapi' Purdon
^ the legal stuff to prove I wrote the damn thing if any teacher comes to check :book: