One in a Million
One in a Million dystopian stories
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lmarmstrong
lmarmstrongCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  2 years ago
In a world with no where to go, where everything is out of your power, one Voice, no matter how small, can start a very big change.

One in a Million

One shout amongst millions.

That's what started all of this.

One tiny shout amongst a throng of voices, the din of cars, the thunder of feet. One small little voice spoke reason amongst a people that had only faith.

One voice to speak of freedom, one voice to speak of another world was all it took to create the mess it did.

Hundreds were dead now, hundreds more would never see the light of day again. All because of one idea that sparked form that one shout.

The powerful ones were all baffled at the conflict that had arisen around one small little voice that should have never been heard.

One small Voice of reason turned into to, and then three. After three the Voice of reason turned into an idea, and an idea is a danger to a people that only had faith.

So the people latched onto that idea. It was told through hushed voices in dark alleys and joked about in schoolyards.

It was a plague that swept the people, something that took hold and didn't let go.

The people in power got worried. And they tracked it down.

One voice amongst an army.

That's what the power hungry found. The one shout and turned into a strong voice, speeding it's plaice to any who would dare enough to even half pay attention.

The power hungry lost some of their men to the Voices plague.

The plague kept taking victims, the Power hungry couldn't stop the spread of it as their own men fell prey to the Voices lies, the idea had turned into a movement. An army was amassed around it.

The army marched.

They marched through the town first, corrupting more of the good peoples minds with their idea, the freedom.

The Power hungry couldn't stop it.

The first city the Army of corrupted people marched upon was quiet. Still. Dead. It smelled of blood.

The power hungry had made the city a warning. It only strengthened the Army's resolve, and they pushed on ten fold.

Marching to the next city and finding the same, then to the next and again the same. The pattern continued until the last city.

This city had an air of dread hanging over it.

And that night, the Army was attacked. The Power hungry stained the streets red.

But the Voice got away.

The Voice traveled, it escaped, spreading its idea, sowing the seeds to another March, the people of faith did not want to be branded by the Power hungry any more. They wanted power of their own.

But they were scared, and they did not carry the Voice far. Instead they hushed it. Crying the idea into dark back corners and alleys hoping the Power Hungry Would not find it.

Breaths came quick and short, sparks of gunfire lit the demanding dark,

pings if a missed target echoed through the empty But heavy boots pounded on cracked pavement and blood mingled with the boots drowning it all into one steady rhythm.

metal monuments.

Then a strangled gasp. And a wet thud, a searing pain, and an endless void.

The Voice had died.

The idea was still whispered.

The idea was almost forgotten.

Some remembered. It was only a matter of time.

It all will start again with a single Voice.

One shout amongst millions

One shout amongst millions.

That's what started all of this.

One tiny shout amongst a throng of voices, the din of cars, the thunder of feet. One small little voice spoke reason amongst a people that had only faith.

One voice to speak of freedom, one voice to speak of another world was all it took to create the mess it did.

Hundreds were dead now, hundreds more would never see the light of day again. All because of one idea that sparked form that one shout.

The powerful ones were all baffled at the conflict that had arisen around one small little voice that should have never been heard.

One small Voice of reason turned into to, and then three. After three the Voice of reason turned into an idea, and an idea is a danger to a people that only had faith.

So the people latched onto that idea. It was told through hushed voices in dark alleys and joked about in schoolyards.

It was a plague that swept the people, something that took hold and didn't let go.

The people in power got worried. And they tracked it down.

One voice amongst an army.

That's what the power hungry found. The one shout and turned into a strong voice, speeding it's plaice to any who would dare enough to even half pay attention.

The power hungry lost some of their men to the Voices plague.

The plague kept taking victims, the Power hungry couldn't stop the spread of it as their own men fell prey to the Voices lies, the idea had turned into a movement. An army was amassed around it.

The army marched.

They marched through the town first, corrupting more of the good peoples minds with their idea, the freedom.

The Power hungry couldn't stop it.

The first city the Army of corrupted people marched upon was quiet. Still. Dead. It smelled of blood.

The power hungry had made the city a warning. It only strengthened the Army's resolve, and they pushed on ten fold.

Marching to the next city and finding the same, then to the next and again the same. The pattern continued until the last city.

This city had an air of dread hanging over it.

And that night, the Army was attacked. The Power hungry stained the streets red.

But the Voice got away.

The Voice traveled, it escaped, spreading its idea, sowing the seeds to another March, the people of faith did not want to be branded by the Power hungry any more. They wanted power of their own.

But they were scared, and they did not carry the Voice far. Instead they hushed it. Crying the idea into dark back corners and alleys hoping the Power Hungry Would not find it.

Breaths came quick and short, sparks of gunfire lit the demanding dark,

pings if a missed target echoed through the empty But heavy boots pounded on cracked pavement and blood mingled with the boots drowning it all into one steady rhythm.

metal monuments.

Then a strangled gasp. And a wet thud, a searing pain, and an endless void.

The Voice had died.

The idea was still whispered.

The idea was almost forgotten.

Some remembered. It was only a matter of time.

It all will start again with a single Voice.

One shout amongst millions

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