For Queen and Country

A follow up to 'Terrorists and Teacups' or more so a prequel.

They had come in the evening halfway through tea. When the family sat hunched over hot plated meals and between mouthfuls exchanged snippets of conversation. 

The arrival was simple, the merry ringing of the doorbell trilled through the house and was regarded as nothing more than a slight annoyance.

"Go check that will you." Was the simple command directed at the young son and muttered in casual tones, the underlying annoyance was easily overlooked by the child.

The young boy soon returned but did not take his seat. In one short sentence he explained how the man at the door wanted them all in the garden. The order would be cast off, ignored if the man had not been a policeman. Or so the child claimed. 

With slow unsure movements the family edged out into the front garden where patches of grass yellowed beneath an abandoned scooters and toys, slowly becoming enveloped by the vines that creeped up the white walls of the house and the weeds that cluttered the front yard.

The policeman adressed them by their family name in a harsh authoritive tone. 

"Yes?" The mother replied, her words amounting to nothing more than a whisper, tinged by an accent that spoke of origin far beyond the shores of britain. 

The man continued in his formal, barking tone to recite various legislations, rules and acts. The readily repeated word being 'terrorist'.

The family all exchanged worried and confused looks, the mother's plump, pretty face drawn into an exspression of shock and gentlehands drew the children close.

The father was first to speak in bold and clear tones as he stepped infront of the family he sought to so bravely protect. The mounting barrage of words came only as one last fleeting protest. The officer replied with the soundless withdrawal of the gun and the sharp bang as the bullet was shot.

The man slumped back against the three and an anquished cry that brimmed with fear exploded from the mother. 

The folds of her dress that the children buried their heads within did nothing against the small, deadly pellets that soon hurtled towards them. 

The mother was left. Crisp white shirt now stained by ruby red droplets of blood, her knees dirtied from the sudden drop onto the pavement from the attempt to catch the small forms of children dead too soon. "Please.." She cried as her eyes focused upon the barrel of the gun, vision blurred by rising tears. 

The subtle clicked served as the unwanted reply as the enforcer pulled the trigger once more.

Author's Note

This writing does not reflect my personal views in any form. I say this due to fear of ridicule for the contents of the passage.

This is just one of the few concepts of a sort of, paranoid dystopia society I've had rolling around my head for some time.

Reviews

[alesuriko]

Very nicely written. I love this story, the atmosphere and the tone. The completely cynical comment on society is wonderfully portrayed. Great detail, good realism and emotion to it. The simplicity in the first half of the story is perfect for the contrast in the end and you don't rush ahead to the action, you give as much detail to every moment of the story in the way that it is supposed to be expressed in that very moment.

You have minor grammar/spelling problems, barely noticeable but you were missing an apostrophe in mother's in "the mothers plump, pretty face". Also in the sentence: "It was the father first to speak in bold and clear tones as he stepped infront of the family he sought to so bravely protect." ... in front is two words. There is also a slight awkwardness to your wording sometimes but nothing too serious.

Overall this is a great piece.