Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ryan Seth Cole Sep 2022
I am surrounded by comforts and convenances as I pack the cub-bards, lining them with provisions. Some of which I will not get to before they perish. I pay no mind to the clouds that gather above my head because I will soon walk into the shelter of my luxurious home.

I close the door sealing out the pestilence. the last part of my home barricaded by all the elements. I seat myself in a climate controlled throne where I waste away watching the regurgitation of one talking head to another. I stand at once to pour my cup out into the sink.

I look out the window and see a horizon of red illuminated by the smoke and fires that grow beneath it. I close the blinds and I make my way to the master bedroom. I take off my custom made clothes and fold them neatly at the foot of my bed. I brush my teeth and put on my pajamas as I hear a thunder in the distance grow closer . I turn on my fan to drown out the noise. I then lay myself down and nestle the silk of my pillow.

I begin to fall asleep not quite past Rapid eye movement. I am then ripped from my bed. I am drug down the stairs pulling banisters back resisting my pursuer’s. They’re strength to much to my own they quickly over power me.
My finger nails dig into the decking of my lavish hardwood sprawl. There is no hope for me at this point. I then am hit with a blunt object and loose consciousness.

I awake with a bag over my head and my hands tied behind my back. The dry air and exhaustion from my screams make my mouth dry. I feel insects crawl on me not as an infestation but as a hindering concentration on my hands and feet. I don’t know what they are but they bite me like fire ants.

I cannot shake them loose. Once I do my hands and feet are  bound down by my captors. They shout at me slurs and demand I renounce. They beat me with they’re fist and feet. They grab me up and drag me down a long hall. I am pushed to the floor and then picked up. My head is shoved down as they submerge me in water. Over and over and over again. I begin blacking out because my body is entering a breaking point.

I am then drug back down the hall and cast back into my dark room.
This continues for days as I am being starved. I begin eating the ants that bite my hands and feet. I drink the water I can when I am being dunked over and over again. I begin to try and adapt to this tormented routine. I am far past depression I am numb and I am hopeless.

I am so lonely I try conversing with my captors. They don’t speak in my language so I try to make myself believe what they say back to me are kind and hopeful things.
They demand that I renounce in my language. It is the only thing I understand the entirety of my stay. I sense the desperation in they’re tone they almost seem sad that I am not responding to they’re abuse. I fear they will soon grow tired of trying and end me as a result.

The next morning I awake with a cold blade on my neck. I shout out “I renounce! I begin crying and shouting out; I renounce!” They pick me up and break my bonds and sit me in a chair. One officer removes the bag over my head and I see for the first time in I don’t know how long. Another officer hands me a glass of water and my face falls in shame and relief.
This is the real beginning of my torment.

After giving me instructions and sending me on my way. I …..

To be continued…
Small series. Part 1
Moomin Jun 2021
The peace of this small neighbourhood, is shattered as the door caves in
As masked marauders seek with guns, the criminals that hide within
But they find no deadly drug baron, Nor killer, or ****** animal
But a grey-haired lady, small and frail, in terror as she beholds them all

At gunpoint then her hands are tied, and her walking stick cast to the floor
As she is marched by mighty men, to the waiting van outside her door
Her heart skips wildly and her breath is tight, as she is bundled roughly inside
Her dignity and rights of law, are swept away and cruelly denied

And across the town there sits a girl, with kindly, smiling joyful eyes
A teen who spends her youthful zest, bringing hope and joy to other lives
But little does she know this day, that her future days are to dwell
Not in delight and dancing halls, but in a dark and lonely prison cell
And elsewhere stands a local hero, a man so honoured by decree
Acclaimed by peers and politicians, as a citizen of kindly deeds
Yet on this day, he is torn away, from his family who are left in tears
As this father and devoted husband, is imprisoned now for seven years
Who are these ones snatched by the state, and treated so unjustly
Held without cause or consideration, and despised so bitterly?
They obey all laws and pay their dues, and love their neighbours when they can
And share a hope of a future bright, even though their hope is banned    

They are young and old, black and white, and gathered from diversity
They wage no wars, won't steal or lie, but treat all people with dignity
For their crime is not of violence, nor abuse, or fraud or robbery    
But of being Christians and trying to show, Christ-like love to you and me

And what of those who terrorize them, the land where this grim drama is set
That mighty nation, so paranoid, that it considers them a threat
This pretender to the throne, bedecked in red and white and blue
Is a jealous king who hates the ones, who, to Christ their King are ever true

But as they languish in prison cells, awaiting justice from the King
The one whose commandments they obey, is smiling down and proud of them
For their hope is not in men of law, nor international decree
But their just and loving King, Christ Jesus, and in God- Jehovah's sovereignty    

Dedicated to Jehovah's Witnesses imprisoned in Russia
Jason Apr 2021

Your Honor,

The persecution rests.

I think it's all too easy to let your old opinions help decide new judgments, especially when you've devoted a great deal of time to developing those opinions.
Remember to take some time to see the other side of the story.
It usually makes a big difference, for some reason.
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Eyes lost
in waiting,
looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
He put it away
on the old
wood table.

his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
a tinny piece,
rolling himself
in still noise
a cigarette of
a variety of
great purge
good reason,
one pack a day

It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
of freedom.

looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Kai Apr 2020
Spit from your mouth like an insult
like the very word doesn't bloom
and fill me with the pride of it
witch, pagan, devil
Spit hate and misinformation
like your ancestors before you
keep your cycle and see where it goes
Jason Adriel Feb 2020
tell me:
how are beliefs helping
when they cause persecution
screaming injustice while performing acts of hate?

tell me:
how does one differ
folly for a questionable book
or the innermost desire to rule others?

tell me:
how can one say
religions are the foundations of earth
when morality is at a point of contempt?

tell me:
how could one say
one believes in a god
when one ignores humanity?

where is the decency?
what is peace in a tyranny of hate?
some day we'll realize a little too late...
many face persecution in areas all over the world, not excluding my own country. This is a simple question for all the hatred...
Nikolai Dec 2019
Dull is the day.
A new thrill in the night.
A shrill scream in her flight.
Blood is dripping, the ax is lifting
Last of his kind,
a creature of night,
life in perpetual darkness,
neverending, the madness.

The spirits are raising,
pursuers are racing,
with a goal of ending his splendid ambition.

The endless ordeal has come to an end,
his final salvation eluded again.
The blood is no longer dripping,
his hands, no longer ripping the flesh.
Rapture is gone, once again he's alone.
He's come to oblivion, forgotten again,
ignored, but prison can bind him only so long.
Not too sure about the title. Not too sure if the story is in any way coherent or inferable from the text.
Next page