The Vote (cont)

When Margret Heinz's name was boomed from the podium, she stood up from her seat, her head held up, her eyes staring straight ahead. There was a round of polite applause from those still seated, for the government insists it is an honor to be elected and to provide the reconciliation for your community's sins. The claps continued as she made her way slowly to the front of the room where two armed men from the government stood waiting. For a moment, it seemed like everything was going to go as planned, according to the script that all of us had learned to read from since the day we were born. Margret Heinz had won and that was the way things had to be.

            But then something strange happened, something that had never happened before and something that hasn't happened since. That day, something snapped in Margret Heinz, something that perhaps should have snapped in all of us. Margret Heinz stopped midstep, like her feet had suddenly been caught in concrete, unable to move. Her face screwed up into a steely look of determination, her eyes locked in resolve. For a moment, we all just stared at her, unable to comprehend what it was that our eyes were telling us, unable to make sense of the emotions we saw played across her features. Then Mrs. Heinz spun on her heels and, pointing a finger directly at one Ronald Black, her neighbor and esteemed government man, screamed, "Damn the Vote! He framed me! He started all this! Look at what he has done! Look at what all of you have done! Damn the Vote! We don't need it! He knew that I saw h---"

            Mrs. Heinz's last words were cut short as she was tackled to the ground by the two government men. As they struggled, the shouts echoed around the meeting room, echoed in our minds, echoed in our very souls. It was quick, faster than the blink of an eye, and soon the agents had swiftly knocked her unconscious and carried her limp form from the room.

            That was the last we ever saw of Margret Heinz. 

The End

0 comments about this story Feed