Under The Black Flag Sky: Anarchist short stories

  1. Aflameoffreedom
    Aflameoffreedom
    UNDER THE BLACK FLAG SKY: FIRST NIGHT IN AN ANARCHIST MILITIA

    This a little short story I wrote, feel free to edit, change up, or add to the concept. If you do just say that you did.-aflameoffreedom

    [Second: 32 Minute: 49 Hour: 21] Day: Unknown Month: Unknown Year: 2000-2099 Edit:-/Sometime in the 21st century/:>

    The monster of a man known as ‘Krops’ for his shaved head and love for quoting the works of Peter Kropotkin lead Sean through the giant squatted countryside mansion, the stomp of their boots echoing through the hall. It was quite intelligent for security reasons that a faction of the Resistance inhabited a building that had oozed the filth of an old bourgeois bastard. However you could tell it was now the home of Anarchists. Sean followed Krops through a hallway lined with stacks of Anarchist material. There were books, pamphlets, zines, CD’s and posters on a huge range of topics everywhere. Sean’s eyes lit up at the beautiful sight.
    Sean was a former Year 12 student. He was fairly short, lean and quite fast. His old gang of friends use to admire his fierce bravery in the confrontations with the Police in his city, and were always entertained by his arrogance. After being put on a wanted list he fled with the help of Krops who recruited people for the militia in that area of the country. At the squat he was among persons from all areas of the working class, ex-high school students, ex-university students, ex-convicts and veterans of the wars with Afghanistan and Iran. The Vets were responsible for a lot of the organizing and training but of course there was no hierarchal structure and everyone refereed to one another as ‘comrade’ and or as ‘brother’ or ‘sister’. The Stones and Fire Militia or SFM was predominantly made up of University drop outs. The organization that began with humble beginnings as a block block in the streets soon became a full fledge armed resistance against the tyranny of the Capitalist State. The insurrections and riots occurring everyday all over the world had given birth to a new era. With Cops murdering almost every hour of everyday and privately sponsored Corporation ‘Property Protection’ militias running rampant with the State’s Military to be a pacifist simply and plainly meant you were suicidal or a slave. The SFM had gained notoriety quite fast with the Capitalist press by its successful armed liberation of political prisoners who now were active members in the militia.
    Sean entered a room buzzing with life. Partly a makeshift armory inside Sean came face to face with what he was here for. Sean was never a pacifist, an outspoken Anti-Capitalist, Anarchist Communist, Anti-Fascist, Boxer, and lover of his fists and boots when his cunning ability to argue with everyone would frustrate someone and he’d strangely politely invite them to a brawl outside, actually hated and despised guns. He hated how today any person could use his finger to fight, but warriors in mankind’s history would train day after day to turn their whole bodies into a weapon. Combat use to be so up close and personal, one would have to witness the life drain before him but now like everything in the Capitalist world killing is mechanical and void of any emotion. Things use to be fair in that the more you trained your body the more you won but now the more money you have for weapon technology the more you terrorize. Now Sean had to change with the times or his life, his home planet, its creatures and his brother and sisters of all races were doomed.
    Krops energetically picked up an AK-47 Assault rifle and held it out for Sean to examine. His eyes were glued to the gun. He grabbed the AK and held it in his left hand, with his finger he traced down from the tip of the barrel to the trigger, slowly, curiously. Peculiarly he touched the weapon as if it was sensitive. He touched the assault rifle as if it was a small animal that craved for his affection. This construction of death, this would defend his life, and this would take others.
    The machine in his hands held no other purpose but to kill, to destroy a functioning living and breathing human being in cold blood, its sole purpose was to murder. He at that moment promised himself he’d never speak of his actions otherwise, no matter the blood lust and rage inside the people sent to destroy him and his Anarchy and Communism, all that fueled his zest for life, he would not think of them as less than a human being who bled the same blood as his.
    His enemies were merely mindless slaves, yet capable of the most unimaginable horrors by a simple command. It is almost as if they’re already dead, they were suicidal the moment they gave up their liberty and freedom of thought, brainwashed slaves they were but they were not fully dead, yet. The harsh reality is they are the children of the damned. They would have to pay with their lives for the betrayal of their class, their only home planet Earth, and ultimately the betrayal of themselves.
    Sean stood in the dim light, AK-47 in hand. He noticed the grenades on the table and leaned to grab one, ‘Wait!’ yelled Krops.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Those are not just stones comrade’.
    ‘Do I look incapable of handling explosives? Do not be fooled by the youth of my face, I’ve thrown my share of petrol bombs at the pigs.’
    ‘Aiii alright, young you look yet definitely not innocent’, replied Krops smiling revealing missing teeth.
    Sean then examined the grenades, fire bug he was it was a great joy to hold such a novelty. He strapped the AK to his back, and walked into the next room over to the small crowd around a table filled with large papers. The Vets were preparing for one of the first missions Sean would possibly fight in. It would be a dangerous, extremely risky, and a thrilling liberation mission. It would be the second time the SFM would be rescuing political prisoners, it was an all-out assault on a notorious correctional facility. If to be as successful as the first it would be an incredible boost to morale and the weapons and long missed persons they would gain had a value to the cause that was so great, it could not be measured.
    Sean listened with burning excitement growing in his chest even though he knew he had a lot of training to do with his new gained weapon against the Capitalist State, he still knew it would never be as powerful as his mind and voice. In the corner of his eye he noticed a girl watching him. A red bandanna covered half of her face; it contrasted greatly with the wavy pitch black hair on the side of her undercut. Her eyes glared at him with intensity, just as gorgeous as they were menacingly looking. Krops elbowed him, he whispered, ‘you better mind yourself around her, at the last prison liberation she caught off six dicks that night’.
    ‘Bull fucking shit’, muttered Sean.
    ‘We completely had conquered the entire facility, right before we set fire to the prison and the convicts were liberated the fascists along with the sex offenders had to be dealt with. Most of the women of us happily castrated the rapists before we released them with medical supplies into the night. R-sin, she was one of the cutters’.
    ‘Fuckk…’ said Sean.
    Sean thought to himself that the toughest of the guys here must be fighting over getting with her like she’s Palestine. He didn’t care, he was a tough motherfucker too and hopefully she’d take interest in his more proud of romantic nature. He promised to himself that he would approach the beautiful Anarchist the next day. The night continued on with discussions of the future and Sean eventually retreated to his makeshift bed to get some much needed rest. With the thoughts of the night storming in his head and of the liberation mission it was difficult to get to sleep, as always he hoped to have dreams of the days after revolution before he finally drifted to sleep among his Anarchist brothers and sisters of the Stones and Fire Militia.
  2. Aflameoffreedom
    Aflameoffreedom
    UNDER THE BLACK FLAG SKY, PART II

    [Second: 02 Minute: 37 Hour: 23] Day: 28 Month: Unknown Year:2000-2099 Edit:-/Sometime in the 21st century/:>

    On the roof of the squatted mansion instead of standing by his lookout post Sean set up a little dinner for himself and the gorgeous anarchist, R-sin. He had brought an old wooden table up to the roof with a couple of chairs and set down an old lantern that gave off a soft orange light in the far corner. The stars in the sky illuminated the night and laid a blanket of shining white light over the tops of the trees of the forest. However captivating the beautiful night was, R-sin’s enchanting eyes held Sean’s attention. Every time their eyes locked, her eyes burned inside his heart like the last words of a love letter.
    The two rebels talked and talked, ate, and drank with spirit. It was rare for Sean to drink and not be thrown into an intense argument or a scene of flying fists. The alcohol instead contributed to his eagerness to elocute a monologue romanticizing the struggle.
    “I feel it boiling in my blood, the revolutionary zeal, the burning passion to eradicate injustice, inequality, to destroy oppression and every authoritarian and hierarchical structure, to pulverize the forces of power, to burn down the borders of entrapment both mental and physical. My heart beats. It burns to live as it manifests itself as flames before my eyes.”
    Sean stood up on the table and held up his beer bottle in front of him continuing his intoxicated rant. “With stones and fire, by my own laboring hands, I come to break our chains and smash the fucking state! I long to dance upon the rubble of every building symbolic of our slavery, to rise up from the ashes of this violent and corrupt system, to feel in my chest the echo of my comrades’ voices, ‘Freedom at last! Freedom! Freedo-“
    CRASH! The table upon which Sean was standing collapsed to the floor and him with it. R-sin immediately came to his side as he lay among the broken pieces of wood.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Are you okay?” replied Sean.
    R-sin laughed then gently stroked his head. “You’re really cute for a militant revolutionary.”
    “‘You’re just…so beautiful…and such a fucking bad ass.”
    R-sin’s smile pierced right through his armored vest, beneath his flesh and ignited an explosive awareness of his beating heart. Sean’s eyes traveled from the warmth of her eyes to her lips. With a kiss, the armed revolutionary youths’ passions united in a physical embrace… R-sin climbed on top of him. Swiftly Sean threw a piece of wood that smashed the old lantern in the corner, the glass broke into thousands of pieces and a small fire blazed for a short while on the concrete roof. Nothing but the natural beauty of the stars would illuminate their night, and what is an anarchist romance without a little bit of destruction.
  3. Aflameoffreedom
    Aflameoffreedom
    ANARCHIST LOVE STORY/DAWN OF THE BUTCHER (A POEM). UNDER THE BLACK FLAG SKY, PART II &1/2

    This is the first poem/rap story I’ve written. The rhyme structure is pretty chaotic, maybe I’ll edit it and turn it into a song someday.
    REMEMBER TO WRITE, SING, DRAW, PAINT, FILM, BLOG, BUILD A CULTURE OF RESISTANCE!

    [Second: 14 Minute: 42 Hour: 22] Day: 03 Month: 02 Year:2000-2099 Edit:-/Sometime in the 21st century/:>

    Sean found the following poem lying in a basket of anarchist literature:
    Carmen
    She was a communist anarchist, antifascist feminist
    She spoke of freedom with burning passion and reason
    She resurrected life whenever she spoke of what she believed in
    I didn’t wait I asked her to a night out date
    “To smash the state and go burn the banks babe”
    She replied “But only if we get to flank a squad of pigs and smack em with planks and burn em like cigs
    If you want me you must know the explosions will have to be big”
    She made me smile so big and feel we would be achieving every change we were dreaming
    She would raise the ceiling I would be bleeding and needing to be hearing her words of healing
    She would probably get higher poli sci marks than Karl Marx
    She was my light and my spark and I felt nothing could rip us apart
    Every minute away from her for us was a minute at loss
    But we would fight the anticapitalist struggle whatever the cost
    Our love would be strong like how Emma waited for Alex for fourteen years as he suffered in prison
    She made me have no fear only love and rage in my vision
    My love for her could only grow like Palestinian fists being risen
    Soon a day came when we made the propaganda by the deed decision

    We had approached the police station, our hearts both racing our boots crushing the pavement dressed all black like ravens to deliver bombs to be blazing and flaming and erasing our enslavement
    Not a cop in sight flames of freedom took flight like kites lit up the night the right like the fourth reich in the name of the far left fight!
    Suddenly a cop car turned from around the block we stared and stopped in shock both thought and knew we were caught
    Two pigs jumped out my gun whipped out, holding my gun I screamed “RUN!” my love started to dart south
    They fired, I flicked the safety off the glock cocked aimed and took shot and busted a lot of hot lead into the cops’ heads
    I turned around and in horror saw my love had dropped down to the street floor
    The bastards had got her, her blood was flowing like water, I stood there empty chest, exhaling the essence of death at the scene of the slaughter
    I stood by her side and quickly changed the mag, I vowed they would need a number of aranged body bags with ‘Bastard Pig’ written on every toe tags
    That day the police station went in a blaze, three dead sent to three graves
    That day I managed to get away but exactly how it’s still not safe to say
    Now I walk dead sworn to rid this world of the disease
    To put every swine police to sleep deceased
    I love uniforms it makes the criminals easy to see
    For now I am hunting the bastards that took everything from me
    -The Butcher
  4. khad
    khad