This
story of one man's plight, kidnapped from his family home and forced
into a life of slavery, reawakens one to the horrific acts that may
be committed in the shadows of a sick mind.
This
shadow casts an ideology of power, fear and evil, that unites men and
women of the same colour, and divides them if they are of a different
colour. Yet there are other divisions cast in the same way. Of great
importance are such stories, which vividly demonstrate and show just
how base we can become within a delusional narrative.
When
such a narrative spreads into the minds and the actions of people,
one enters into a false dialogue. One becomes seemingly ensnared by
theatre, as a character who cannot see any other alternative
unfolding of events; frozen and fixed within a self-fulfilling
nightmare of which one partakes. When freedom of choice is limited
within the parameters of such a story, it appears there is no way
out. Permeating the unconscious behaviours, we so-called thinkers
become enslaved to it, only to be awakened to drives pushing us into
a direction none of us wish to go.
How
can that be? It simply would not, if there was at one's disposal, a
true, fair and moral tale. If there was more than one set of
parameters, more than one theatrical performance, likewise there
would be more than one script. However, who will narrate, produce,
combust into a flame of flickering ideas? Becoming stuck in the thick
slime of beliefs which allude to no other option but this one, one
fails to do so.
Any
sparks of creativity are quickly extinguished by the dominant powers,
whose very foundation of truth contradicts any rebellion against
them. From fear of retribution, the rulers, or benefactors, will
conceal and destroy the tools of creativity and freedom. Passion and
creative thought is quickly curtailed as folly, even by those who may
be freed by it. Scared of the vengeful violence that occurs within
such a paradigm, the nightmare deepens, reinforcing a fixed monologue
of shit. What then, can awaken one from this evil reverie, when
reason may ride the wildest dreams, and a fiction may be perfectly
logical?
Indeed,
a great author with a turbulent mind is needed to rage against such
systems. A new story needs to be written. One which will encourage
the minds of people to believe in something completely different, and
so set them free from partaking in a play where only misery, loss,
and fear is injected into all of our hearts; even those of the
powerful. Lest their hearts have already burned out, surrounded by no
light by which they may be guided out, let them be reignited by the
imagination. The freedom to write and to think outside of such a
dialogue presents a dash for freedom beyond the maze.
Do
not believe, any of you, that there is no way out. Do not believe,
not for a single second, that there is no alternative. For as long as
human beings preserve the ability to tell stories, especially those
stories which may find different assumptions, assumptions which lay
the foundations for better conclusions, then it simply is not true
that there is nothing we can do. It is wrong that you must play the
role of the slave, or the master. Reject such notions as having no
place in your story.
Once
you have done this you may tell others, who also must reject such
notions. And only when enough people have realised that they have
been entranced and hypnotised by a persuasive lie, may they break out
of it.
However,
the lie is not the hardest part to accept, it is the fact that one
may believe that they chose such a life. But no, this is not true
either. It is only when one is made aware, when one understands they
have been tricked, that they have any power to choose otherwise. But
unless one wakes the others, one's own attempts to break out of such
a narrative will be rife with booby traps, and zombies.
Ellese
Elliott
