Horror, Sagas, Scenic, Short story

In hopes of waking.

It was a nightmare all at once. One not apparent on first viewing as the worst of such horrors go.

With a sky of blue and wispy clouds of white filling the quiet heavens above, the people toiled below, smiling only when smiled at in casual greeting before returning suddenly to their quiet and horrified expressions.

It was a day of celebration for them. To celebrate the liberation of their rule from truly cruel and violent kings of their own blood. Liberated into the control of faceless overlords who would care solely for toil of its free people.

A freedom shown solely to those that would produce enough and only then within such limitations as the overlords would allow.

The people’s mouths were chosen for them to echo a message they were told was their own. The people’s toil made only ever greater as their lands were filled with those of other places conquered in the same manner.

There would not be one voice to air that was not chosen from above to speak for those below. There would not be a bind of blood to keep them all together.

And all of them would smile and celebrate their liberation. For great and varied are the punishments for the lonely few who would stand up.

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