Cries of Betterment and Banshees

The invasion came at the dawn of the day, the sun extending her golden light up over the horizon to fall upon the amassed Somebodies. They rode in wheeled machines, a dull metal cavalry with a dust cloud tail swishing behind.

It would be cruel to say that nobody saw them coming, as nearly every Nobody did.

Nowhere was filled with shouts and screams as people fled, taking with them only what they could carry in their arms and on their backs. They knew that they were no match for the Somebodies, that their resistance would mean nothing. So they ran: hobbling from their homes, making for the mountains, diving into the dark depths of the cavernous catacombs below.

“Into the Tombs, Nobodies!” a woman shouted over the chaos. “They shall be ours now, but we will raise ourselves from them surely.”

The stream of bodies seemed not to hear her proclamation, the stumbling mass unchanged in its speed or sound.

When the Somebodies finally finished their descent on Nowhere it became filled with smoke and dust, rushing like a chocking fog through the streets and alleys. Mancers wove their fingers and engineers wove steel, the casings for the megalith mirrors being raised like a many fingered fist closing about the city.

“Nowhere is ours, good Somebodies,” the Sir Chairman boomed from his beflagged vehicle, the blue banners bright against the chassis of obsidian black and gold. “The mirrors shall be a symbol of our might, serving to illuminate Somewhere and proclaim our golden age!”

The cheers of the Somebodies gathered drowned the dull mourning echoing from the Tombs, the Nobodies now a banshee beneath the cliffs.

“A golden age for Somewhere!” he bellowed once more, his cry taken up and repeated a hundred-fold.

A golden age! A golden age! Somewhere! Somewhere! A golden age!

The banshee still growled, a muffled menace lurking in the Tombs, awaiting the day of her ascension.

The End

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