It was almost religious how we were drilled into being the seer’s puppets. Nearly foreseeable, too.
How else would he be able to sway such support in the realm? The more ludicrous the mentality, the more the potential. Potential for what? Of blindsidedness, of course.
He used the most common terms to influence the majority of the people in the area. Like “love is the ultimate solution to deception”, “Don’t be afraid of the darkness” and also, “Unlike the traitors who forsake the holy name, we stand here to shun our illicit ways.” Words that every person on this land believes in, and the one who finds the right words to verbalise becomes a philosopher, the leader.
Today, I share a story with you —a story of my own vulnerability and duplicity, a tale where I broke a few rules and found freedom.
When I turned 16, my family and I were completely immersed in the ways of Elias Vantrel. We had even moved to his establishment. The colony was firmly grounded. Thriving, as expected. The sermons happened three days a week. In our spare time, we were initiated in the community’s gatherings where we were instructed on how to conduct ourselves, what to eat, how to dress, when to wake, when to sleep and blah, blah, blah.
At some point, I was practically singular in thinking that we were being indoctrinated in propaganda. From the sun’s first rays till the moon shone in the dark sky, every person in the retreat had idolised a fraud and lost themselves in his fabricated truths. Plus, it didn’t stop there, from dusk till dawn, there was a list of rules no one could imagine breaking.
Until someone did. Until I did.
I broke the curfew and walked the halls at night. As I walked with a lamp in hand to illuminate the path, I lifted my hand to the intricate designs on the walls, savoured the still air caressing my exposed skin, and felt the cold floor beneath my bare feet. Truly captivated by the newfound freedom I had discovered, I slipped back into my room and onto the blanket on the floor with my sound asleep family.
I did it again. And again. And again. I was not found out.
Until I was.
I still remember how awful it felt to be ratted out by my little brother. However, all I feel now is pity for a condemned soul who would never know the fresh taste of freedom.
I was cast out into the world, forced to find my way to safety. A bare girl of 17 who had never known the hard edges of this harsh world was thrown out and refused refuge.
I will not lie. I was scared. Terrified even. I had no shelter, no place to set my head and cry my heart out. No free meals anymore. For a moment, I wondered if freedom is even worth it. Maybe if I’d just played by the unwritten corrupted rules, I’d still have some peace to breathe in air and out. For a moment, I just wanted to stop. Stop everything.
But a part of me was enraged at what had occurred lately. How my own blood had turned their backs on me for some fool who would never let them blink without his permission. It was horrible. And, I would be lying if I did not say that it only became worse afterwards.
I spent my first night of independence in a barn. It was not far from the colony where my parents would have been sleeping. In the first light of the morning, I found myself wrapped in the earthy scent of hay and the gentle creak of the old barn’s wooden beams. It was not very welcoming, especially when the keeper of the house came to kick me out.
He did tell me two things I hadn’t known before, though. Something that impacted my brain cells in a powerful manner. One: A rumour had spread of a girl ejected from the seer’s colony for causing trouble. Second, it was dishonest to occupy someone else's property without compensation.
Outside the colony, it was going to be difficult to demand protection without any payment to make. Turns out, in the outside world, money was the equivalent of naive faith in the seer’s community.
Gradually, my fear shifted to hopeful resolve. I guess that was the turning point in my life. The beginning of something new.
I secured a job in the community centre located on the east side of the city. I was given the cleaner post, I was provided a uniform and a set of cleaning items. And a pay.
I suppose there wasn’t much difference between my two lives. In both places, I was working for someone else. In the colony, it was free meals and association with like people. On the other hand, here I was paid two cents a day. Only enough to assure me a meal a day and a place in society.
Over time, I learned to adjust. With food, with shelter. Compromise was the only thing I was allowed to do, I believe.
However, an incident occurred that changed my course of life profoundly. One day, as I was walking back from the mess, I ended up surrounded by goons. As it occurred, they were more interested in my body than my money. Not that I had any to spare.
It was the most horrible of the nightmares. If it hadn’t been for the guards keeping watch, I would have been ripped from myself entirely — my body just a shell, my mind never returning.
A girl’s worst hell.
It took me days, if not weeks, to recover. To return to routine. I was taken to counsel again and again. It was free, so I didn’t mind.
She concluded that it wasn’t the fear of being ruined that led me to my instability. It was the fear of being taken hostage and losing the little freedom I had achieved. Through the hardships I faced and coped with my powerlessness.
It was then that I decided to start a movement. I began by spreading awareness of what was happening in the colony to children and women. First, the news was limited only to my co-workers. But, as the workers went about their work and told the tales to their employers. They were moved.
Who doesn’t love a damsel in distress? And, there were so many in the colony. Three years later, I have collected enough funds and support to disband the colony and prove to people what a cheat Elias Vantrel is.
As I walk with supporters of freedom to the supporters of blind faith, I reckon the distance between them is not measured in miles, but in the courage to question. Today, some might be free and rejoice in this victory, and some might hate me for what I’ve accomplished.
I hope it will only be a matter of time before they understand the feat we have undertaken in the face of silence, fear, and unwavering resistance.
React
