It had been years, and everything had changed. As I looked out onto the town square, thunderous clouds gathered above it, alive with electricity and threatening rain. All the sun seemed to do now-a-days was hide, allowing dark shadows to come out to play, leaving the market stalls and flowers that littered window boxes free from colour. The town and its people resembled nothing of its former self. There was no joyous laughter from children, they were shut indoors. There was no chatter from the market stalls, the people kept to themselves. But most of all, there was no hope for it had been destroyed a long time ago.

Before everything had become so bleak the town had been prosperous. We hadn’t minded that we were not all equal. For as long as anyone alive can remember, there had always been a divide between our two kinds. Although, our masters did let us live our lives free from chains as long as we did their bidding without complaint. After all, the tables had turned; we were receiving justifiable punishment on behalf of our ancestors. Or so we were told. What fools we had been, thinking that one day, once we had paid the price we would be free. Little did we know that all along they – the elite that governed the town – had an agenda of revenge, and freedom was only ever intended to come in the form of death.

I could see them now, the elite; both young and old couples from the Order, promenading down the steps of the grand court house, across the cobbles and onto the seats opposite the main attraction. They only ever make an appearance when its show time. On this particular afternoon there was much speculation as to what type of performance the audience would receive. There had been numerous rumours, debating the magnificence of what was to take place. It was said that the Order was pulling out all the stops to show that they were a force to be reckoned with, after the outbreak of a few minor confrontations between our races. They were calling it a momentous occasion not to be missed. If the rumours were true then nobody could be certain of anything. Our kind always thought that the innocent in society would be protected by their naivety. Every eye in the square seemed to follow the movements of the Order, shoulders tense, as if a cat was about to pounce onto its prey, until thunder clapped and everyone resumed their business quickly. The Order brought fear with them everywhere they travelled, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of their wrath. Through the corner of my eye, I became aware of a slim and weakened boy who slouched in the doorway of the jail house. His eyes were closed and for a moment he looked peaceful, resting in some heavenly place far from this land, until a crash in the crowd brought him back to sharp reality. It looked as though the Order hadn’t changed their minds about going forward with the spectacle. The Order had travelled too far down the steep and slippery road to hell to care about the annihilation they would definitely cause to the pure and angelic minds, which still clung onto survival in the barren wasteland that was once a democratic society.