For the Good of Society

Hey guys. I wrote this mainly as a way to get out some pretty painful feelings I have about some aspects of my life right now, particularly love. Take it as you will.

"We apologize for yet another relocation, but we

must keep changing our spot in the network's listings to avoid detection by the

Bloodhounds," stated a middle-aged reporter in a worn, marred suit. He sat

at a hastily-constructed desk made of plywood and old crates. Oddly enough,

this sad sight always lifted the spirits of the rebellion and its supporters.

The crackling lines caused by the poor reception on the old television set scrambled

his image, making him appear more jittery and nervous than he actually was.

"The time is 11:03. Courtesy of the Clerk and his

Bloodhounds, any sign of affection or love between citizens of our fair country

is forbidden by law. At this very moment, our freedom fighters bravely battle

our corrupt, tyrannical government to win back our natural right to embrace and

love those whom we called our wives and our husbands. Do not despair, my

friends. We will win this war. We will win back our freedom!" He paused,

halfway out of his seat in the head of them moment. Any constant, loud noise

was sure to attract the attention of any Bloodhounds nearby. Clearing his throat

and making a futile attempt to straighten his tie, he resumed, "We're

continuing to feature love letters from our viewers to show the harmful effects

the rule of this tyrant has on the emotions and lives of innocent human beings who

simply wish to fall in love. The names of these individuals have been changed

to protect their safety."

Taking a pair of scarred spectacles out of his shirt

pocket and placing them on the peak of his nose, his aging eyes began reading

the crumpled piece of paper placed before him by an assitant.

"'Dearest Isabelle,

I know that by even taking up a pen to write you this

letter puts my life in jeopardy, but I must let you know how I truly feel before

it is too late. I love you, Belle. I know we've been told that love doesn't and

shouldn't exist, but I can feel it when I look at you. I can feel the warm glow

in the pit of my stomach when you drift into my thoughts. I know it frightens

and disgusts you to read these things, but we both know that it's only because

you feel the same. I can see it in your eyes when our gazes happen to meet, I

can hear it in your words when our conversations start, and most of all, I can

feel your mood change whenever we meet, all three counts of which I am also

guilty. You may try to deny it, but unless I've gone insane, we both know these

feelings exist. I know I'm asking the impossible, but I want

you to come away with me, away from all of this hate and ignorance.

Together, we can prove this country wrong. We can show them that you can't

control love; you can't kill it. We might be alone, but we would have our love

for each other, and that is something stronger and more powerful than any law.

I know that you're scared, my sweet, but we can get through this together. Love always conquers

hate.

Be brave.'"

The reporter paused to read some production notes that

had been attached to the bottom of the letter. His mood immediately sunk.

"This letter," he continued. "Was written by Sergeant Jacob

Maxwell, a Bloodhound. According to our sources, his messenger was intercepted

by one of his superiors. The following day, Maxwell was found dead in his office,

beaten to death by his own men."

I thought it was really good SG

Liked the word choices. You shold write some narritives to read for enjoyment.

Dark yet uplifting in a way. Very nice.

Thanks for the comments, guys! Updated the pic, btw.