The Drum and the Flag

All along what was once the city streets of (whats now known as) Atonement, lay nothing but ash, cinder and precious things people once bought and loved. All the cars,houses, offices, and alleys that fell silent all those years ago are still singing the same bitter silent tune. The silence came from the tyrants and evil men who once ruled the world, and shared the same philosophy that this world is in fact not big enough for everyone. Beyond the prison that the titans of this earth called home lies the desert, to which only skeletons call home in these days. Buildings still left standing had some of their faces left, for the rest it was nothing but rubble and dust.

A crow spread its wings with a caw, the wings carried it away in a panic at the sound of a deep drum. Dust has risen from the place where the crows feet rested, the dust will settle with out anyone ever knowing and lay there till everything goes dark never to rise again. He was tall, stepping from the shadows, his face spoke the names of suffering and damnation. He held a crude mallet made of a stick and numerous rags tied to the end, and a drum made of an old tree stump and what looks to be human leather (this part of the story I blur out, to look father into the man, I felt, was to look into the eyes of the devil). His teeth bore barely any gums and as a result the dirt brown structures jutted from his mouth like the buildings surrounding him, jagged and tall. Behind him from the shadows limped a mass of children, all shapes and sizes, with the majority possessing deformities of varying natures. Every eye being it bulging or not stood steady at the drummer, waiting for him to begin.

On the first drum beat the hands of the children fell to the ash and dust, taking a handful each one of them rubbed the remains of this world into their hands. On the second drum beat the children reached down and brought a fresh handful of atonement to their mouths and noses and breathed the remains of all that came before.

"Breath everything that came before, only then can you become a God."

The voice was a booming whisper, as he spoke the eyes of the children all simultaneously began to turn black to the core.The drummer let out a cackle as the children obeyed. Great toothy smiles not unlike the drummers came from one cheek to the other on the faces of the students. The words of the drummer were like the words of God to the small mass of this worlds bleak future.

The beating of the drum came soft at first, with the first beats dust flew from where the children stood beginning their journey to either death, failure, or victory. These were the first risen remains of Atonement of their new era, the end to a new beginning. As the mass started to move it seemed the drummer remained the nucleus of their suffering cell. The wind blew dust and ash in the faces of the children and yet their eyes remained open and black as the bossum of the sea.The drum became the sound of thunder and a chant rose from the crooked teeth and chapped bleeding lips of the man with the drum.

In the center of the street was a tower of rubble. Cars, pieces of toppled buildings, train cars, and an assortment of other pieces from a distant past that had long been forgotten. Skeletons also made a home in this rubble, the skeletons of humans who very much resembled the small mass of children. Deformed skeletons that lay in memory to serve as an example that failure has a consequence. As the drums continued to get louder their eyes rose to the blood red flag that stood looking down on them as if to say

"Come children, claim your future."

The congregation gathered at the foot of the tower to the sky, while the drummer beat his beat and waited. Sweat now poured off the brows of the children, every bone was ready to move on the command. The crooked smiles and jutting teeth rose and fell with each heaving breath. The sounds of the congregation breathing became a unified song that bellowed from gnarled faces of a generation. All at once the drumming stopped just long enough for the drummer to shout.

"MARCH TO MY DRUMMING CHILDREN, RISE OR FAIL AND BECOME A GOD!"

All at once the footsteps of the congregation equaled the sound of the drums. Climbing the tower with vicious speed, their eyes fixed on the flag, the children began a ceremony that defines the future of the next generation. The first participants on the tower set the pace, the only thing to worry about was the ones who followed.

A boy of no more than twelve was the first to offer his body to the tower which would become his tomb. The flag in his gaze was the last thing his black eyes would see, he was thrown from a train car and fate chose his grave as a street sign. His body would lay run through till his flesh was dust and he sank to the floor of Atonement, for now he would serve as a prize for the birds.

As for the rest of the congregation there was a flurry of bloodshed, each strike, each kick, each contraction of a muscle was for the flag and the drummer. The drummer cackled as he saw this, his drumming grew ever loud as the end was close.

The sounds of death and suffering rose, only to service as fuel for the last few of the congregation that had survived. Bodies lay lifeless and twitching, Broken limbs stuck out from graves and cast evil shadows on the blood spattered ground. Bodies lay strewn on the floor of Atonement. The last of the mass had reached an old train car, two followers fell through the glass ceiling. One was a girl at the age of ten, she bore glass shards jutting from her back and arms. The boy was at the age of eleven, his arms covered red and getting darker from his left shoulder. He lunged first pulling a shard from his own flesh and driving it into her chest, the counter was a glass piece from her arm that dug itself into his neck. Both were dead by the time the final two had reached the top. The old train car was to be their mausoleum forever.

The last two met at the top, where the flag met the top of a car (the car was too decomposed and fading to tell the model or make), and the two pairs of black eyes met. The first boy lunged at the second without hesitation, The second boy met him and both collided on top of the old car. The first boy was around thirteen (it is hard to tell due to his deformities. Bulging eye and a cleft an inch wide under his nose along with six fingers on one hand an seven on the other.), the second boy was about nine, both of their hair black and flat on their head. Now both had scratches that bled and open wounds that colored their bodies the same red as the ground below. With the first boy wrestling the other to the ground there was a blur of strikes and scratches. The first c had scratched the eye of the second to almost nothing rendering the boys eye useless as blood poured from it. The second ripped the others cheek away from his gums and teeth leaving a patch of the boys flesh hanging from his jaw in a mangled bloody mess. The first boy recoiled and fell back in pain holding his wound, while the pain of the attack had the victim on his back the second boy rose and circled the first excited for the end and his victory. As the boy lunged towards his prey there was a flash that happened too fast for the eye. The prey became the predator and with one swift shift of his torso he dodged the attack and became the victor. The attacker was now on his back with no hope left as the would be victim plunged his thumbs deep into the black glossy eyes of the boy turning them into jelly. All the while his smile remained stretched even with his right cheek torn from his red stained face. The final blow had been struck and the boy who had become the victim now made no sound yet his mouth was open wider than the sky in an expression of complete terrified pain, and it remained that way even after death. The face of suffering personified and stuck in an expression of endless agony.

The victor stood over his fallen brother whose blood accompanied the skin now of his deliverer. The boys eyes still black as the sea turned to his prize, breathing heavily and foaming at the mouth in anticipation no longer noticing his wound which was still very much open and flowing. His stained hand wrapped itself around the flag and there was a feral pull as the flag came free. The drums stopped, as did the cackling of the drummer. The child made the slow climb back down the tower, passing all of his fallen brothers and sisters who lay as new decoration for the coming generation. At the bottom the boy way met by the handful of the congregation that survived, although bruised battered and bleeding badly, these are the ones who had failed and will now live the life of servitude and disgrace. The congregation parted as the boy and the drummer met again as the nucleus of the cell. The drummers drum was stripped from the old man who was still smiling his crooked and evil smile, as was his mallet. The boys eyes remained black and would be that way until the drum was stripped from him, the eyes of the rest returned to that of humans. The drummer then turned and began his journey through the gate of Atonement to the desert, to wander until the earth reclaimed him as dust. The children watched as he left and never looked back. Once more the street, the tower, and the world had gone quiet. All that was left was the wind of the ones who had fallen and the remains of Atonement.






                                                                                        The End