That Dandelion

Peaceful people by the thousands were lined up, and they shot them dead. It wasn’t the government who murdered them but the violent criminals they could not take guns from.

She didn’t really believe that criminals would lay down their guns when the guns were taken from the peaceful people, but she thought the peaceful gun owners and the obtuse populace would be stupid enough to believe it when she promoted it. She was as complicit in genocide as she had been in the 90’s when a certain African country experienced it.

“She didn’t have to worry,” she thought. Her and her spouse had so many billions they could build a thousand fortresses to protect them and no one could force her to watch what her rhetoric had caused. But, her conscience knew. She still had a bit of that. Once in a while, there were no blinders when her conscience placed the unending rivers of blood in her mind. And, images of frightened children still got through. Yet, she kept up the propaganda. As much as the tiny bit of soul inside wanted to change and maybe reverse course, there was just too much money to lose. And, she had learned that money was what would keep her safe…for a time. Besides, they weren’t her children. Someday, she counted on knowing that she could step her feet outside her fortress safely to resume a life where 90% of those she held in no esteem no longer existed. But, then what? Then that day came. She opened her door.

Shocked, she realized, she had not counted on the truth of what came next. Those that were left didn’t want to know her and they didn’t trust her. Somewhere in the back of the minds of those horribly angry survivors a plan was finalized for her destruction, and it was being realized. The few she could see from the doorway frightened her. Justice, the one thing she thought was hers, was going to finally find her. She was afraid. She was very afraid. And, she knew she should be.

It was then her eyes fixed on a dandelion. Although she had always hired a very good lawn maintenance company somehow this weed had gotten through. Immediately, a picture of a small girl flooded her mind as she presented it to a loved one. “What had she done?” she wondered. “How did this one little weed, un worrisome to most, get through?” “Where were her minions responsible for keeping it out?” She shivered. A dawning occurred. It was at this moment she began to realize that maybe, just maybe, her minions were some of the peaceful people, and more than a few, were probably her people. She was Jewish. While perfectly adept at not cheering, working or protecting them, she could not deny she was one. History doesn’t lie. “Hadn’t they been through enough?” she thought. Was it possible she had not only betrayed them but all of mankind? Much too late, there was no place now for heroic thoughts. “It was too late,” she knew. She had done what she had done, and while she wanted to believe her billions would protect her, she had to face up to what she had done. They would come for her regardless of all her protections. Then her thoughts came back to the yellow-topped flower that wasn’t supposed to be there… asking:

“If one little dandelion sent by the spirit of an innocent could get through, what could man do to me?”

Fiction from characters I think had an enormous chance to do right but chose not to. ©2015


One thought on “That Dandelion

  1. Love it! Sometimes you have to show a bit of darkness to remind people to fight for brightness, to wield common sense and remind them that going to extremes doesn’t make you safe but rather, can make you vulnerable. That’s why I write, what it is I write. 🙂


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