Sullen; A Rose for Life
Hello there, it's me again! Alright, this story contains sex, descriptive violence, etc. Everything we need. Lol. Anyway, no underage readers... yea. Anyway, read and enjoy! If you have comments you want to tell me, you can email me at: [email protected] A warning here, the story is told in scraps of journals, so it jumps forward a few times.
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Excerpts from the memoirs of Martin Slythen
The whispering winds murmur a tale long ago only to the open ears of those willing to hear it, those wanting to hear it; the roses for each life bloom anew, and to the eyes of the unaware, speak nought of what happened in those years past, but simply flourish in their resting place. Ah! how they bloom with great beauty, in contrast to their origin. But both the winds and the roses, together in harmony, chime a melody, a fresh word of new beginnings; wrought from anger and hatred, saved by compassion and understanding, is a new world in which peace seems to reign. Suspended high above the ruin of the past, the present shines with a new glory, and the world has come in to acceptance for many of the people, with open arms.
I thought, at one time, that prejudice was simply a human trait; I thought, at one time, that hatred was only a human trait. Looking back on what I helped to start, my heart empties with holes: a gap for every life lost. It didn't matter whether they were friend or foe. I thought, at one time, that we � my race � act as people, why couldn't we be treated as such. Why then was I so blind to the flaw in my own philosophy; why then couldn't I see what price this wonderful future would come at? Looking back on what I've helped to create, the holes in my heart are filled with every smiling face when one greets another. A paradox! yes, to be assured, but all will make sense in due time.
I am Martin Slythen, a fox no older than sixty-four. I am your common red fox, save for the blazing texture at the end of my tail. My eyes have been described as soft, gentle amber, and though I had tried to keep the same profile of myself once, such a demeanour was lost during the severe days of old. My paws are slender, my legs of average size. I once had long, fiery locks on my head, and though they were gotten rid of in those days I thank are long past. I've decided to grow them again. I've always been in good shape and although I don't spend much time in the mirror (of course I do allow a quick glance sometimes), I find myself to be a bit hefty, not too much mind you. Now I live alone in a private villa on a small island, living out these peaceful days in dejected solitude.
If you are reading this, I've surely passed away. I had/have, what is called �Cytrothricopus'; a fatal, new, rare disease that has spread � only furries, like me, are susceptible to it. You are reading from the story of my life. Much has happened, surely, though I've watered many things down, and expanded on others.
I've spoken enough of the serene days of today, and you may be wondering what I speak of when I write about the days long past. Yes, this sky above me, pouring its light and splendour upon myself as I sit at my rose garden, was once, for a boiling moment, scorched with the blood and screams of hatred and death. They are the dark days that I will put off no longer, and will do my best to recall. My story starts fourteen years after I was made, making it 2010, and progresses from then.
Forgive me Damien...
The doors flung opened with a resoundingly sturdy push. A man clad in his white lab coat � as all the scientists were � approached me as I began to regain consciousness. Lifting my heavy eyelids, I saw the man reach for his notebook. "And how are we today, number eleven?" I looked at him wearily, was he talking to me? Of course, I was number eleven, and age fourteen at the time. I couldn't speak his language fully, though I had � after constant experimentation and discipline � been able to understand it.
"God," my voice crackled through the speaker outside the glass. I normally spoke better than that however my thoughts were muddled from being awaken. Minutes, hours, days, how long I slept I couldn't be sure. He began writing something down, shaking his head all the while.
Looking up at me with a disapproving look, he sighed; "Good," another numeric correction. Had it become habit by now? "You meant to say good, yes?"
"Yes," I nodded my head slowly.
"Don't worry my dim little friend," his sardonic tone an off key melody to my sharp ears, "you monsters may be slow, but you'll learn English eventually." He began writing something down again, always writing things down. "You and number thirteen are doing the best in our program, that's why I'm sure you'll learn. After all, we don't want you ending up like the other three who failed."
�Failed', the word echoed in my mind. I hadn't seen them since then. Thirteen was a good friend of mine, a ferret. He could speak their English though he couldn't grasp fast conversations, and he could do some of their math � I think that's what they called it; you'll have to forgive me, I've been alone for a long time. There was something funny going through my mind at the time: I was called a fox, yet I noticed a creature of the same name on a video they'd shown me. Interesting creature: it ran about on all fours yet had the same texture as I did.
Tapping on the glass, the man spoke once again. "Today's the day we'll be taking you in for another bio-examination, don't let me down." As the scientist � Dr. Morton was his name! � pressed a button and swiped a card, I watched as the glass slide out of the way. I stood stalk still as he slowly linked my neck with a metallic collar attached to a cord on his hand. Slowly making my way out of the glass chamber, I followed him through the halls of �arc39', the biotechnical research facility. The walk was at a gruelling pace, every clanging step echoed throughout the metallic halls. The floor was icy to my naked paws and the facility was none-the-warmer with nothing but my fur to keep me from shivering all over; the metal brace chafing my neck didn't help matters.
Vague lights reflected the spotless, clear glass barricading each test room. Others like myself, I saw, and in my passing by, gazed at them performing their remedial chores, and others under analysis. I could hear the weeping in my head, always lamenting, seeping through from one soundless room as a man kicked a creature like myself � we're commonly known as furs now, I believe, and shall refer to them as such henceforth � for one reason or another. One fur, I saw, bending her back as she polished a man's shoes; another, I saw, being prodded with needles. Turning my head, I looked away from such a prospect, only to be met by another. One fur was slowly learning to cook, while another, who I couldn't look away from, slowly began to close their eyes forever as their tube-like chamber, in which they were encased, filled with a thick gas.
I stopped, though only briefly, for my body was jerked forward by the constricting harness around my neck. "Quit standing around, you monsters get enough rest as it is." His searing face somehow strengthened his icy words, one burnt to the bone, the other chilled the soul. It was but one tear that escaped my face before he spun around, ironically enough he appeared as angry as I should have been. "Shut it with your moaning and crying. You freaks don't have feelings; you were made to be mindless drones and you'll be so!" I was at a loss for words, though it wasn't like I could speak too many anyway, however, I could understand every distasteful word coming out of his mouth. The very sound seemed to soil my ears. He dragged me forward again until we made it to the examination room. After he removed my metal restraint and I was laid upon a bed, the last thing I can remember was a needle being stabbed into the side of my neck. The world slowly clouded around me, and all I could do was watch. My arms didn't obey me, my legs shunned me. There was nothing I could do but simply sink into an uneasy oblivion with the faces of veiled men crowding around me with odd looking tools.
"Those idiotic humans," his voice sparked up beside me, "they will get what is coming to them one day." It was number thirteen: Damien, he liked to be called by those of us furs who could speak the English. I opened my muzzle but the ferret put a paw to it. "Do not bother, you are still learning."
"I can speak good, do not you think?" I said to him hopefully.
He smiled and shook his head, "You will become better over time, that is, if they do not kill us first..."
"Kill us?" I asked rapidly, suddenly panicked. "But we are good! We speak good! We do what they ask us!" Damien didn't speak another word; he just simply shook his head and sat there. We sat in our odd chamber, silence brooding around us. I looked him over. He had creamy white chest fur, and dirt brown back fur. His face, though rough, was well chiselled. He had a longish, pointy snout and a darkly coloured ring on his face. Damien himself stood taller than me, and perhaps a bit stronger, though we were both of the same build.
We were inside �arc39', however, as I looked around, I marvelled at the soft green grass beneath me, the trees around us, and the flowers to the sides. Damien and I were in the synthetic environment test room, as I recall. Beside us was a small, sparkling pond. I looked into its crystal waters and caught my reflection. I must have been fourteen then. Getting up, I went to see the flowers. I liked them, so beautiful. I never picked them though, not one.
Mine was a culmination of some of the philosophies of life; life itself was of the greatest importance. Watching one of the flowers, I noticed the oddest thing: it had some sort of... mouth. A fly dropped into it and was quickly enveloped by the flower. I rushed forward and opened the flower, allowing the fly to escape. I sighed happily and turned around to see Damien behind me. "Why did you do that?" He asked quizzically.
"I wanted to save the fly," I smiled innocently, scratching my head as the fly buzzed around.
"Oh," he smiled too as another fly was descending to go into the flower. With a quick flash of his arm, he severed the head of the flower, tossing it to the ground.
"Why did you do that?!" I asked shocked and a bit bewildered.
"You wanted to save the flies," Damien smiled, his head cocking to the side, "now that flower will never eat another fly again."
"But you did not have to do that!"
He looked at me with pity wreathing his face. "You do not understand. If you save all the flies from that flower, then the flower will die of hunger." After looking up into the simulated sky above, he looked to me with expectant eyes. "And besides, this flower is inferior. It is inferior to me, to you, to our race, like those pitiful humans." Looking to me in a squinted, remorseless face, he continued. "The fools fear what they do not understand; they do not understand us. Our race. We are superior to those ignorant gnats. They lock us up. Make us do their bidding. Always arrogant and ignorant of all the other powers on this world. Those four legged creatures you've seen, what could a human do against a lion without their disgraceful weapons? It all comes down to melee combat, the basis of all battle, and that is where the humans are weak; that is where we'll pin them; that is how we'll rise."
I could see murder in his eyes as clearly as his message conveyed the thought. It all became clear to me. That was why he endeavoured to be the best, his sadistic dreams of domination over our creators was enough to speed him with energy that knew no bounds. His purpose was as his message. I couldn't take it anymore. "No!" I yelled, and began to cry.
I was an emotional wreck by now and to my surprise Damien came and embraced me. "Shhh," he crooned softly into my ear. "Just lay back, my friend, I shall take care of everything." I don't know why, but I suddenly felt comforted. I was safe, and slowly, as if in a dream, the world caved in on me once again.
Crack! Slap!
The stinging pain in my face was unbearable. Again and again he hit me! My face, my stomach, the back of my head, whatever he could get his hands on, he savagely made sure I was disciplined once again. "Fucking idiot!" He screamed in my ears as he bludgeoned them with his fists. "You made me look like a fool! Well, now that your fun is over, you're going to learn not to fuck with me again!" Dr. Morton continued, always hitting me...
"Please, I-I did not mean to!" I wept. I cried, shielding my face, my battered muzzle, my blackened eyes. It was minutes later that he calmed down. Maybe he was just tired. "I am sorry, sir," I cried, "I was too afraid to complete the test."
His face, twisted in disgust, made me feel more frightened. "All my co-workers were there. All of them! I said too much about you, I made you out to be something special, and you sure as hell aren't!" He spat on my foot. "You can speak, why didn't you?! You can understand English, yet you stood there like a moron! You made me look like shit, now you will too." It was a moment later that he, getting his little pun, as terrible as it was, began to laugh. He left me there, beaten, battered, bruised, crying on the floor. You could compare me to a beaten teenage boy, but at the time such a thing would indefinitely be considered blasphemous.
As I wept, I looked to the reflective, wet, metal floor with teary eyes. I was seventeen now. I had a light build, none too muscular, more delicate. I suppose I wasn't much taller than the average human teen. Really, the only big difference was the fur on my body.
I cried in his arms, and he sat there with his caring, his compassionate paws rubbing my back. Where would I be without you, Damien? Damien knew what had happened the moment he saw me. He did his best to clean me up, always telling me, over my sobs and aching tears, that everything would be set right one day. I believed him. I always believed him. He was always there for me...
A week later, Dr. Morton went missing. To this day his body has never been found. I could tell when I looked into Damien's eyes, he did it. He could do anything.
I was assigned a new Scientist, a female human named Celin. She was much kinder. Perhaps it is a woman thing. I was truly fond of her though. Her bright smiles in the morning, her goodbye waves at night. The melody of her voice could charm the sun into the blackest of nights. She sometimes treated me like a pet she'd keep at home, and sometimes, as caring as she was, I wondered how she could be a scientist like the others. No! She wasn't. She wasn't like the others. She took care of me too. She was different... like all humans are.
"Not all humans are the same, Celin is very nice." I smiled to Damien as he sat back. It was two years later now and we had grown more, learnt more, but the sights all stayed the same. The synthetic environment room, these trees, flowers, insects, was my sanctuary in this metallic vice.
Turning his head, he spat. "It is all false, as all humans are. She is just trying to win your trust. Then you shall be her loyal servant until death, the death she brings to you."
"She would never do that! She is too kind for such a thing!" I wept shamelessly. His words, cold as ice, cut through, deep into my heart. Ironically enough, he pulled me close, cradling my head against his chest.
The sweet undertones of his voice entered my ear softly. "I will take care of you. You do not need to worry about anything." Ah, that voice. That gentle murmur always kept me safe. I felt so dizzy now... I wasn't sure what it was. I nuzzled my head, trying to get closer. Oh so closer. My heart was beating so loudly I thought it might echo through the room. He could hear it � I know he could.
Damien knew me better than anyone. A caring paw caressed my cheek � a touch of velvet � wiping away a tear. What kind of tear was it; love; joy; sadness; maybe anger, who can say? I opened my eyes, briefly, to look into his face. His eyes could scare me sometimes, but now I knew what it was I saw; what it was I felt. Love. Joyous love; sad love; happy love; angry love; it was all there. I could feel everything. He felt my beating heart. Staring up into those dark eyes, I felt as though I were being swallowed up. I was lost inside those eyes, never wanting to escape.
I continued looking up at him, his face down to mine. His eyes were fixed on mine. Damien's mouth was so close that I could hear � feel his warm breath; his beating heart; his love. We kissed then, slowly, passionately. All the world seemed to stop at our connection. The world didn't matter. It was just him and I then, the mixed flow of our love heating the air, an intoxicating scent; a montage of emotions. He slowly came down on top of me then. His body on mine, we lay there for seconds; minutes; hours; I couldn't tell. I felt his paw trace down my chest, tweaking the nipple a bit. Still we remained locked at the mouth, our tongues fencing avidly, dancing a honey-sweet flavour all about my muzzle.
One paw stroking my head, the other continued tracing down my chest, down my abdomen, reaching my sheath. That graceful paw lingered there, caressing up and down, exciting me. I could feel myself growing, extending to meet him. Little did I know he'd meet me first. It was a feeling unlike anything I'd ever felt before! Pleasure, pain, love, passion; all these things struck me with one hard blow as I felt him enter my rectum; every inch he pushed through. Incredible! I let out a startled "yip!" in surprise � delightful surprise. I closed my eyes. Darkness surrounded me, engulfing me in silken emotion. We stayed linked like that � had it been for ten minutes? I cannot say for sure.
As we lay, absorbing the essence of each other, he pulled himself out. The connection severed, leaving me empty. It was so sad... before I felt as though he were a part of me. We became one. Now we were separate again, and I was longing for that lost feeling again. Then it happened. He entered again. I felt his cock slide up through my tail hole, into me. There was no room for pain anymore. I was overwhelmed, reeling in ecstasy, for he did it again. And again! Pushing in; pulling out. He began to make pace, thrusting his hips, as I lay on my back, helpless, submissive, and secure.
With his rhythm going � in, out, in, out � I lay back, soaking the feelings into me. Then I felt a velvet paw, not my own, begin to massage my penis. I honestly can't say how long we went on like that for, time had no place here. Damien massaged, he pushed, and he pulled, all the while getting faster and faster. It was building in both of us, the thought crossed my mind quickly, drown in a sea of bliss. This was beyond sensual pleasure � it had to be! My legs were wrapped around his waist. His short fur, my long fur, rubbed together all the while.
I put my arm across my face, not knowing how much longer I could hold myself. My tail, between my legs, snaked up behind him and stroked his hole. He shifted my legs as he moved, bracing them against his shoulders. I'm not sure what I felt then � what to expect. The moment was all that mattered. My ears lay flat against my head, flat as they could be. My muscles were pulsing � throbbing with anticipation!
Looking to his face, I saw his sudden expression: His eyes closed, mouth opened, head tilted back, and his pleasured moan filled my ears. Heat, so warm, so sweet. I felt the warmth of his love pass through me, seeping through every crevice of my expanded penetrated hole. All of this heat, passion, was too much for me. I could feel love and lust flowing through me as though all my emotion were a thrashing river. And the dam broke.
I arched my back, my tail stiffened, legs numb, and arms forgotten. My body was paralyzed, I nearly blacked out. My being sprang out from me then, shooting out of me and saturating my chest fur. Damien's paw slipped effortlessly on my cock, now cover with semen, and it wasn't stopping just there. As though I were to be drained for life, he managed a few more short thrusts, his orgasm still filling me inside, pooling. I couldn't stop either. I felt the spasm, then the next � then the next! This intoxicating feeling had me by the throat. I felt his body slump down on mine, totally exhausted. As my orgasm ebbed, so did my conscious. A shadow was descending on my awareness, and darkness shrouded my lover and me.
Blackness.
Was I blind? I couldn't tell. Cloaked in a world of pitch-black, my eyes saw nothing. There was a low bass rumble echoing in my ears.
***Bump***
I came down heavy, hoping I hadn't damaged my tailbone. There was metal beneath me; chilling cold steel. I recognized the feeling.
Moving.
I was moving. Where was I? I crawled around, feeling every inch of my blind, moving, metal prison. It was like a big rectangular prism, and yet, it was like a void. I sat back, honing my sense of hearing to get somewhat of a bearing. Suddenly I stopped; my prison stopped. The back of it opened up, inviting a brilliant light into the back of the van. Blinded by darkness to be blinded by light, ironic. Shielding my eyes with my arm, I heard two men talking. "As you can see, this model is fully functional." One said a high, fluty voice � a commercial salesman's voice.
"Yeah, an' what can it do?" Said the other with more of a gruff undertone.
"Why, whatever you need, sir." Said the short man. I was slowly gaining my vision again. What was going on? "Whether cooking or cleaning, labouring, just about anything you want it to do. These are very well educated."
"Does it talk?"
"Only if you want it to, sir."
"What about living conditions, where does it go after its done working?"
"Well, that's the one catch. All you have to do is provide a small living quarters-"
"Speak English damnit."
"-But of course, sir. A small place for it to live. You needn't pay for hours of work either. Once you pay the ownage costs, it's yours to do with as you will."
The bigger, gruff one looked at me, huddling in the back of the van. "Huh," he grunted, "kinda looks like a big dog, �r a fox, �r somethin'." He said, scratching his chin. "Does it shed?"
"That's the beauty of it, sir!" The salesman piped happily. "If it has to, it can clean it up."
"Well hot damn!" The big, gruff man slapped his oversized stomach. "Ain't that a piece o' work, I'll take it." The two men continued their pitiless banter, regardless of me, a living creature. Ordered out of the van, I was placed in front of this large man. "Well," Mr. LeBlanc said, suddenly touching me all over, "it seems in order � no bumps or bruises. Looks like the ride was okay." Then he turned his head to mine as his hands continued to frisk all over, the salesman nodding understandingly, and making me extremely uncomfortable. "Yer a furry liddle thing, ain'cha? Healthy coat, good muscle toning. Has it been neutered?"
"No sir," the salesman remained cool, "but these things don't have any sexual tendencies." As the two continued talking, I looked myself over in the van mirror. I must have been twenty by now � twenty-one maybe. I was taller, my fiery coat more lush and smooth. I certainly was presentable.
But there would be time to admire myself later, as I was called upon by Mr. LeBlanc. "Hey, you," he pointed a fat finger at me, "get'cher ass over �ere." So it began...
I was given a tour of the house by Mr. LeBlanc's charming young niece. LeBlanc, and his family of four, lived there his half-brother, Mr. D�mienco. However, D�mienco asked me to call him Mr. D while his brother wasn't around. He wasn't a formal person, and unlike his brother, was much kinder, as was his side of the family. He called me �Martin', saying it was a strong but soft name. I felt honoured. They all lived together in a great mansion and I was lucky enough to be picked; after all, only the best for Mr. LeBlanc. LeBlanc was the governor of Ohio � lucky them. The man however, though a total slob, was quite ingenious at playing the people. This I learned from the following years under his roof.
Any relation of LeBlanc to Antonio D�mienco certainly wasn't something you could notice. Mr. D walked with a confident air, a well carved visage, strong build, and dignified look about his face. LeBlanc waddled with a cigar smoke aura, rounded face, bulging stomach, and vulgar look on his face. LeBlanc's wife was plain and tall. D�mienco's love was short and slender. LeBlanc's kids ran and screamed, �little terrors' they were nicknamed � and they deserved it. The D�mienco children were much more respectful (and didn't try to climb on my fur!). I lived in the closet, when Mr. LeBlanc was home. I had to earn my food each day � though Mrs. D�mienco, or Alissa (LeBlanc's sister), always made sure I had something to eat. Over the time I spent there I learned to speak English as well as the next fur, though the contractions took a while. I continued serving there, living the life of service.
It was five years later that Mr. LeBlanc began to get nervous, and I noticed it � all of us did. This would be the first election he had ever been worried about, one where he might possibly lose. It seemed as though the competition had been exposing him for the ill-mannered man he was, not the man he pretended to be. Of course, that wasn't the highlight of those five years... I read the headlines. My race � we furs � were being sold all over America, and even sent over seas to countries like China and Italy. Most for one purpose: to serve.
Mr. D�mienco was against it, though he never spoke much on that subject. Still, he used to tell me about how laws like that should be changed; how creatures are born free and should stay free. But what about me? Was I born? If I was grown, like those little red roses, why should I have rights like everyone else? Mr. D�mienco used to say, "Why shouldn't you?" Over the years D�mienco and I became close friends, and he purchased me from Mr. LeBlanc, giving me my freedom. I stayed with him though, and one day, after much talking, decided to do something that would rock the nation: We would, as partners, run for governor.
It wasn't going to be easy, no, not at all. But I had to fight for what I believed. It is true that many would turn their heads from our campaign, but then, perhaps I wasn't giving the humans enough credit for acceptance. So we ran, much to the discomfort of Mr. LeBlanc. I couldn't blame him for being worried though. Antonio D�mienco was a real people-person. He could speak loudly, but softly, able to be heard with strength and gentle firmness � an uncommon virtue, even today. We attended many debates, meetings, and made great public appearances � D�mienco flashing his people-prowess, myself as the silent exhibit, whose very presence, unhindered and free, stood as a beacon, lighting our way and revealing our message.
There was but a single week left before the end of the running, now. Antonio suggested I act more human to support our campaign, to get the whole personhood idea across. As he said, "Just because you aren't human, doesn't mean you aren't a person." So I did.
It was a fresh Saturday afternoon, the sun high in the sky with a soft blanket of clouds to tuck her in a few hours � hours seem so long to us, how long do they seem to the sun? The sun was beaming beautifully, warming the sidewalk beneath my paws as I walked to the �Double Double' caf�. Along the way I received many odd looks. I couldn't blame them; along I walked, in human clothing (save for shoes, of course), without a human master. Odd indeed...
As I walked into the caf�, a wave of refreshingly cool air seeped through my clothes. However, inside I didn't get quite as much stares as I thought I would. I was beaten to the punch. Four tables down, with their light-brown furry back to me, sat a fur, sipping coffee. To my greater surprise, without turning around, they gave a nonchalant wave to me to come and sit down. I silently made my way over. "Seems as though you and your human have been making a name for yourselves among us." He said, with his back to me as I approached. "Freedom fighters. Mine, though unspoken, is of the same meaning." By the end of his speech, I recognized the voice. "Sit," sounded Damien's voice, sounding more of an order than a request.
I obeyed/accepted. "Damien... it... it's been so long." I said, staring wide eyed, my mouth agape. Was it really him? Was this a dream? No. This was as real � as palpable as the steamy cup he drank from.
"It certainly has, Martin, and it seems as though you've been doing well." He made a false attempt at a smile.
"Yes... How have things been for you?" I asked, trying to keep a light mood. Something was bothering him.
"My �master'," he nearly spat the word, "died last year. A shame really. His body hasn't been found." He gave a wry smile then, noticing the expression on my face. "My my, you haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you." I said bluntly.
"Mmm, so different, you and I." He said, swirling the brown liquid in his mug. "Almost complete opposites, as it were. Yet we have the same goal." He looked up at me. "The goal?"
"Equality," I smiled, knowing what his response would be.
"No. Not equality." He looked up at me contemptuously. "Freedom. Isn't that what it's all about? To free our race � perhaps that's why you and I were created. Only... your way seems much too tedious, and certainly holds too much ambiguity for the future. As long as there are humans we will never be free."
"No, you're wrong." I said, shaking my head. "You will never be free. All you care about is death and destruction."
"I've spent the last seven years of my life studying the arts of death, you know. Death is not as terrible as you think. It is a release. I'm releasing your humans from a worse fate: Life. You see, you'll do whatever it takes to keep something alive, yes? Regardless of the suffering of others, the future pain it might cause, or even the suffering it must endure to live... like that flower long ago. Without food it would slowly starve and die. I would simply cut its life quickly." He smiled then, picking up his empty mug. "I am like this cup. I would rather be smashed to a thousand tiny pieces than suffer the dirty lips of a hundred humans touch me. However, this cup cannot fight back � only hope someone chokes and dies on what's inside. And so, my little cup, I release you." He said, dropping it to the ground. As it hit, it splintered into tiny fragments, gaining the attention of everyone there.
"You're a monster." I said sadly, angrily.
He smiled then, rising from his chair. "No, I'm just like you." And with that he left, not another word spoken.
"I-I'm so sorry." I said to the man behind the counter, passing him some of my paper human money. "Here, keep this for the cup. I'm sorry, again." I said, backing out of the caf�. I looked around outside, but Damien was nowhere to be seen. I was alone again, an island in a sea of people.
"Are you ready, Antonio?" I asked, turning my head to the man beside me. We were behind a curtain, a gigantic, thick, red curtain, shielding us from the thousands of eyes out there... waiting.
"I'm always ready, Martin. Just keep cool. Remember, their eyes are on the both of us, and for now the competition doesn't exist."
"I know." I said, solemnly nodding my head. Here it was... the silence before the tidal wave. We were in Cleveland, Ohio, nearing the finish line of our campaign.
We stepped outside the curtain, greeted by the applause and jeering of the people before me. I had never seen such a gathering of the public. And not just humans were there, but Furries as well. To my left stood one of the opposition: a woman named Clarissa Kromwell, to my far right: Matthew LeBlanc, my former owner. This would be the debate that would decide just who would govern Ohio � but not only that. Though I didn't know it, this would be the start of the chain of freedom for Furs worldwide.
"My family of Cleveland," LeBlanc began, "I have been your governor for years now, and you've kept faith in me for so long. What can I say? I love you all. You've all done so much for me, and I'm glad I've gotten to return the favour in my years as governor. Where would I be without you � my people?" Truly beautiful. It would have had much more feeling if he hadn't looked down at his pre-written speech four times now. "As governor: I plan to lower your taxes, increase some of the speed limits around Ohio, and further more, increase minimum wage for our hardworking state: Ohio."
"Please, Mr. LeBlanc, as nice as that sounds, it's just more false promises from a false man." Antonio smiled. "We all remember some of the good things you've done for this state, but throughout your reign, maybe half of your promises are ever realized. As a fellow member of this community, I remember the last time you mentioned tax cuts and such-"
"A total bust!" Ms. Kromwell laughed. "And what about education? As Governor I intend to put well earned and well deserved money into our education system. The children are the future, and we'll see to it that they get the best future possible!" The clapping and cheering rang through.
"And where are you going to get the funds for this?" D�mienco cocked an eyebrow. "Raising extra money for education means an increase in taxes." The people muttered and mumbled.
"Mr. D�mienco is right." LeBlanc said, "that's why my committee is strategizing better ways to increase our trade income. Once our new balance comes in, we'd be able to lower taxes and raise minimume wa-"
Clarissa laughed. "A nice pipedream, Mr. LeBlanc, but the people aren't stupid. You can't cut taxes and raise minimum wage for the work-"
"And what would a woman know about work?" Boom! LeBlanc's impulsive, aggressive attitude had finally gotten the better of him. Those words just about clenched it for him.
"The two here today: Ms. Kromwell, and Mr. LeBlanc, have given you their promises, ambitions, etc." Mr. D�mienco said, not looking down at his paper, keeping eye contact with the public. "But these words... its so much easier said than done � am I right? We all say things: what we want, what we wish, and sometimes what others want to hear. Well I speak with absolute truth when I say that I don't promise to lower taxes. It may be tough sometimes, but if we lower it, the state's economy could fall apart. No, I don't intend on moving it at all: up or down. Because if I said I would, it would just be another lie to you by another politician. As for education: what's wrong with it � really? Why to we need to put more money into it. Now, this would be a good thing to do, if we had that much money."
"But unless taxes were raised, I doubt any of us," he signalled with his head to the other two, "have that kind of budget. And speed limits? My, my. Do we need to rush anywhere else even faster? All that will come from higher speed limits are more accidents. It sucks getting a ticket � I know, I've gotten a few myself � but they keep us in check, and remind us to slow down a bit � enjoy the world and keep safe. That is why, as governor, I plan to keep things the way they are. There is one exception, however, that I'm sure many of you are aware of." He looked and signalled over to me. "This is Martin, a great friend of mine. No, he is not a servant or a slave. After all, what right do I have to purchase the life of an intelligent creature such as this? He speaks as a human does, thinks like a human does, why can't he be treaded like o-"
"Oh of all the sob crap," LeBlanc slammed his fist on the podium. "We made those damn things, so we licence them to whoever we want."
"But to live?" Antonio asked. The crowd buzzed busily. It reminds me of bees in a hive: the moving; fidgeting; the low hum of a hundred voices.
"Mr. D�mienco, I think the crowd is well aware of your piteous stories to get into office. However, you don't really have much proof to back up your words, do you? They're like cheap wine: they taste good but have no real meaning." LeBlanc smiled. He'd caught D�mienco off guard.
"Who are you to speak of cheap wine?" I spoke, receiving gasps and the attention of everyone there. My first public speech... "You're too cheap to buy that, let alone put money into education, workers, and taxes. I know, I had to serve you for four years. And who are you to put a price, a dollar value, on the life of a living creature? It is a question of morality, and frankly, I'm beginning to assume you have none, Mr. LeBlanc." I still had the attention, the spotlight was beaming heavily on me, but I continued. I continued in the firmest, strongest voice, and everyone heard it.
"People, all people, furless and furred!" I began powerfully. "What is it that makes a person? I speak to you now from my heart � not from some pre-written, meaningless speech. I speak to you now to tell you what is on my mind. Yes, my mind. I have a brain, a heart, a stomach, etc, just as you do. I may not be human, in fact it's obvious I'm not, however that doesn't mean I'm not a person. I am as conscious of the world around me as you are � does that not mean something? I speak as you do, heard and understood by some and not by others - is that not the same as you? What is the real difference between us? We all live on the same earth, share the same air, sit under the same sun. Why then can we not understand each other? Can you understand me now, hear the words that I speak? I will tell you what the problem is. It is the condition of difference. The fact that I am furred, and you are not, gives rise to the belief that I'm just a simple animal. Perhaps I am an animal, though no more than anyone else around here."
"You think you can compare yourself to us?" Mr. LeBlanc demanded angrily.
"Compare? No. But to be equal is my dream. I dream of a time when we can all live together in harmony. However, LeBlanc, it is people like you who stop this from happening. It's your racism, sexism, and other prejudices that keep people of all over from being equal."
"You're full o' total shit!" He yelled. I could feel his party cringe. He had no chance of winning now.
"I would spit at you, Mr. LeBlanc, but I will be the better person." And with that: the people cheered, Antonio grinned, and Clarissa wiped away a tear. Was this real? Everyone, furries and humans, were clapping � applauding me. I real had gotten through to them. Everything had gone perfect-
"Touching, truly touching." That voice sounded from behind me. "However, unlike your pathetic friends here," Damien looked down at the public from the stage as he walked up beside me, "not everyone is just so thrilled about us monsters wanting freedom." He gave a wry grin, and pointed to the mob of people coming our way. Some held baseball bats; some held metal rods; some came with knives; others with just their bare fists: All of them with the malicious intent of �putting us back in our place'.
From the left they started coming for us, brandishing their weapons as they ran. Damien had receded as quickly as he had shown. I looked around for him, but he wasn't there. To the right, I saw him � him and a gang of at least a hundred hateful furs backing him up. He was going to set his example!
Why? Why was this mob attacking? Why? Why had Damien one hundred furs ready to fight? Why? Why was I thinking all of this when a steel pipe swung past my face?! It would have hit me dead on if it weren't for Antonio delivering a hard kick to the stomach of the pipe wielding bastard. "Why... why would he do that?!" I asked Antonio as we jumped off the stage. "He could have killed me!"
"He was trying to kill you!" He said quickly. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here!" I stopped suddenly, in my tracks, as Antonio kept running, thinking I was behind him. But for what reason? The flower tried to kill the fly because it was hungry... But that man wasn't hungry. Then it hit me. Yes... he is hungry... for blood. They hate me. But why? I have to help out here! Damien! Antonio looked back at me, noticing I was missing. "Martin! Come on, we have to get out of here!" I looked up at him, slowly shaking my head. Then I ran back into the fray.
There were claws bared, sharp and deadly; knives gleaming red and silver; a bullet here; blood splattering over there... everywhere... I looked over to see a vixen, about my age, maybe less, crouched on the street. "Fucker!" A man yelled, raising his already bloody knife. I charged forward, spearing him into the ground. Then I punched him in the face � I think I broke his nose.
I got off of the bleeding heap, throwing away his weapon, and walked over to the young girl. "Are you alright?" I asked her, lending a paw to help her up.
"I � I'm fine. Thank you." She smiled.
"Please, get out of here." I begged her, my voice pleading.
She nodded and began to run. "I won't forget you!" She called back.
I looked around the fray, each moment seeming as though time had slowed down. Furs were biting and clawing ravenously; humans were pounding and stabbing mercilessly; why? "What the hell is the matter with all of you?!" I screamed. My cry went unheard among these bloodthirsty barbarians. All but one: Damien. He walked up casually beside me, always so indifferent.
"Well," he looked around, "I didn't think the humans would provide such a challenge." His bloodstained muzzle � How many has he killed? � twisted into a grin. "Certainly this wasn't what I expected." It was as though it were just the two of us...just the two of us... just the three of us. I was so phased out, I didn't even notice the red laser marker trace up my body, resting over my heart. No, I didn't, but Damien did.
Without a word he collided into me, knocking me to the ground. I heard a sound, a loud bang that split the air. I could feel it pass through him with such force that it hammered him straight to the ground with a rip. His blood splashed upon my face as he fell, his face expressionless. I grabbed him before he hit the pavement. Turning his head up to me, his face put on that smile, not that evil grin, but the soft, caring one he'd given me when we were young. It was the one that told me he would always take care of me.
What is this I'm feeling? My heart is throbbing, as if it's trying to break out of my chest. My eyes are burning. My mouth is dry. I... I can't see. I can't hear � can't think! What's happening? Why, why, why? Always why! Why? I can't speak. I can't breath! Damien � Damien come back to me! Please...
He held his promise at the greatest cost. I can only remember being conscious of what I was doing, then, not doing it. I lost control. Seeing the man in the ruined building, reloading his rifle, I ran faster than I thought possible! I broke through the rotting wooden door sending splinters everywhere! I ran up the stairs, my eyes where bloodshot, lusting for blood! The stairs cracked and creaked beneath my fury, each lumbering step, each lightning blow, bringing me closer to my pray! I could almost smell his fear, that sickly sweet stench, saturating the building! He knew I was coming! He knew I was coming, and his time was up.
I heard the metal cocking of a pistol dead ahead. I charged through the decaying wall, crashing through it, and rolling forward, all the while without a single moment of hesitation. He saw me, and stared, raising his gun in desperation. Bang! One. Bang! Two! Three!! FOUR! I charged forward, jumping into the air, claws and teeth bore to kill! I felt nothing but hot, seething hatred!
My claws ripped into him, tearing his flesh. I bit his throat ravenously. Blood soaked my fur. I was stained redder then ever before. One of his hands desperately tried to shield his face, the other tried to keep his intestines from spilling onto the floor. I can't remember anything else of what I did to him. A latter report stated that he was found in a bloody, mangled mess. I wouldn't know... The fury began to ware off, and as I looked at what I had done, I couldn't stand it. That, with the added effect of my loss of blood from those bullets, began to make me stagger backwards dizzily. The world was spinning, and with a crash! I fell out the window.
I remember waking up in a hospital bed. How long had it been? The doctor said two full days. Standing over me was that girl, the vixen I helped. "Oh. You're awake," she smiled brightly. Her face was beaming beautifully.
I heard another sound. In came Antonio D�mienco, cool as ever, with a satisfied grin on his face. "You dumbass, getting yourself thrown out of a window like that," he laughed, "lucky for you some of those crazy SOBs broke your fall. Then she found you and took you in. The doctors had a bit of trouble treating you, at first, but they got past it. And here you are. So, Martin, how do you feel?"
"Well," I managed a smile, "well enough. How is everyone else?" I asked.
Antonio knew I was talking about the riot, and my furry guest bit her lip. "A lot of people died, both ways. The police came in with rifles and tear gas to break the whole thing up. A lot of other people were arrested too � and more with injuries. It was terrible what happened, but it got what we wanted." He sat down. "You guys are free, considered people by the state of Ohio, under your new governor: me" He smiled. "I suspect it won't be too long until other states follow in suit. That riot's going down in the history books, my friend. The riot of 2022, what a disaster: a culmination of the human condition." He rubbed his head.
Yes, it would always be remembered. Some call it the beginning of a furry revolution. I don't know, for sure, if running that campaign was the best thing to do, but I feel it was much better for the world than what Damien had planned. The scariest part of that is that I know he could have done it. Whether it started with a world wide nuke war, or presidential assassinations, I know he could have done it. And he'd rather see the earth reduced to dust, then to see a fur shining a human's boots.
I go to that grave yard, the one located near the middle of Cleveland. I go to that new graveyard every year and plant a single rose upon every grave of every dead person from the riot � man or fur; it doesn't matter. The site is so beautiful now, where lays the dead, grow these bright red roses full of life. What happened, happened for a reason, and has shown people that "...those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it..." even if the scale is not always the same.
Damien, rest in peace knowing that our race is free. I know this isn't what you wanted, but it was the best I could do for everyone. I'll never forget how he sacrificed himself to save me. Maybe he didn't want to kill everyone after all, I don't know. He'll always be an enigma to me.
What else? Well, let's see... After I was released from the hospital I became close with Millie, the female fox from before. We were married in 2034 � the second couple to start the marriage trend, and chose our last name to be �Slythen' (Antonio's great grandfather's name) � and had four wonderful children: Jack, John, Tina, and Freyda. I couldn't be happier. Still, they moved away, as all adults do, and Millie passed away last year of the same disease.
I heard they've made full furry schools and colleges now, and we're free in most parts of the world � marriages too.
Ah, the sun is setting again. I can't remember how many times it has set since I started writing this. There's no matter in that though. I used to think I had all the time in the world. Now, it seems, my time is almost up. I've lived a great life though, and wouldn't change a thing. I guess this will be the last year I plant my roses for the dead � for life.
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Getting up from the tree that he sits under, Martin Slythen takes one last long look at the sparkling sea before him. With a deep sigh, he slowly walks to his home, feeling the soft grass beneath his paws one last time. He smiles, allowing a tear to fall down his cheek. Approaching the door, he makes his way in, piling the papers of memoirs on his shelf, perhaps to be discovered someday. He takes with his, one rose from his great garden. He slowly gets into bed, feeling the soft sheets one last time. He smiles, holding the rose in his right paw, as he feels the world slowly growing dark. As his eyes begin to glaze over, and peaceful darkness take him, his arm slowly descends to the ground, and as his spirit leaves his body, soft and blissful, for ever, the darkness complete. The rose drops from his paw and a single petal breaks free, falling to the floor.
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That's the tearful end to my story. If you have comments you want to tell me, once again you can email me at: Kikonojo(at)gmail.com I hope you enjoyed it. Also, I am planning a little prequal to this called "Arc 39". It'll take you back through the halls of the bioresearch and experimentation facility to the first furry experiment. What? You thought this was the first? Oh no... the first was much more dangerous. - Hahah, ah-me; kinda left my email as Kikonojo_Vegetto(at)hotmail.com for the past 4&1/2 years - stopped using it a bit after posting the story (long story) - but yea - also I'm planning on tying up the loose ends between all my posted stories thus far with a new series (not to mention lots of new loose ends, split ends, and hapless escapades) so all of you keep your eyes peeled... *dust balls swirl by*