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Another Day, Week, Month, Year..
#WritcoStoryChallenge
#CoronaVirus
Social isolation had forced an eerie silence upon them. While fear haunted their existence, one question was at the forefront.
When was this going to end?
They watched with an overbearing feeling of anger and frustration as politicians delivered their daily dose of propaganda live on the television, squirming as they clearly revelled in their newfound 'celebrity' status, as they stood and tried to convince the watcher why another three months separated from family and friends was in their best interests. The jargon was the same. The knockout punch in the gut was the same. The final outcome was the same. In fact the only thing that changed was the social construct that humanity had built over centuries. Suddenly we were all prisoner.
Prisoner to the words of a few people with power, who seemed to enjoy possessing the ability to trap the entire world inside their homes. Unless you were a 'key' worker. The bottom feeder employee, earning the least money doing the most important jobs. Keeping the world alive shunting boxes of food in warehouses, or delivering them off the back of a lorry. Keeping the world alive whilst being told to potentially sacrifice your own life, on the say so of a politician who'd never worked a day for the pittance you earned.
Instead they threw parties and and ate cheese with wine. Laughing at the public expense. There was no prison for these people. No lockdown. No penalty. Almost no virus. Covid seemed to have no fight against ultimate wealth, power and snobbery. They were immune to it. Just like the public with common sense. They just watched that television broadcast yet again, regurgitating the same soundbites. Somewhere deep inside of them they knew they needed change. They knew that the secluded, isolated life they had forced upon then wasn't right. That it wasn't healthy for them. They needed change. They needed to end it. Somewhere deep inside of them they knew that they wouldn't put up the fight..
© Ashley (urb4npo3t)
#CoronaVirus
Social isolation had forced an eerie silence upon them. While fear haunted their existence, one question was at the forefront.
When was this going to end?
They watched with an overbearing feeling of anger and frustration as politicians delivered their daily dose of propaganda live on the television, squirming as they clearly revelled in their newfound 'celebrity' status, as they stood and tried to convince the watcher why another three months separated from family and friends was in their best interests. The jargon was the same. The knockout punch in the gut was the same. The final outcome was the same. In fact the only thing that changed was the social construct that humanity had built over centuries. Suddenly we were all prisoner.
Prisoner to the words of a few people with power, who seemed to enjoy possessing the ability to trap the entire world inside their homes. Unless you were a 'key' worker. The bottom feeder employee, earning the least money doing the most important jobs. Keeping the world alive shunting boxes of food in warehouses, or delivering them off the back of a lorry. Keeping the world alive whilst being told to potentially sacrifice your own life, on the say so of a politician who'd never worked a day for the pittance you earned.
Instead they threw parties and and ate cheese with wine. Laughing at the public expense. There was no prison for these people. No lockdown. No penalty. Almost no virus. Covid seemed to have no fight against ultimate wealth, power and snobbery. They were immune to it. Just like the public with common sense. They just watched that television broadcast yet again, regurgitating the same soundbites. Somewhere deep inside of them they knew they needed change. They knew that the secluded, isolated life they had forced upon then wasn't right. That it wasn't healthy for them. They needed change. They needed to end it. Somewhere deep inside of them they knew that they wouldn't put up the fight..
© Ashley (urb4npo3t)
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