Blades of American Beauty

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 1 (v.1) - A Brave New Country

Submitted: June 13, 2017

Reads: 506

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 13, 2017



That planet you see? It is Earth; and it is where all of us humans live… We live everywhere on the Earth, but I live in a remote part of the earth called the United States of America, a place where people could be free from tyranny. Just gazing out the window gives me the impression that everything is fine when somehow, something seems rather off. Something just does not feel right…

No no no, I’m the girl sitting on the windowsill if you can see me. My name is Minako, Minako Himiya. I’m a 25-year old girl living in the United States, a place that is the one, free country in the world…or so I thought it was supposed to be; now it’s just a battleground. When I look out the window of my home in Houston, TX., I see the tall buildings, highways, toll roads and the usual daily traffic flow. There’s no blood on the ground or dead bodies, so it’s not the battleground you think it is, but in our country, behind closed doors in Washington, D.C., it’s nothing but a moral battleground. The politicians are supposed to work together and find ways to make our country better. But ever since the Liberal Democrats took over our politics, the United States of America has been falling into the toilet. Every day, scandal after scandal, lawsuit after lawsuit, and other kinds of political conflicts in this country have all but forced my God-loving family into hiding…

Why, you ask? Well, let’s just say that the Liberal Democratic politicians have proposed a law signed by former President Maxwell Abdullah that sanctioned all families and took away their tax refunds due to their political beliefs. Many families suffered as the IRS began targeting them for being conservative, and withheld their tax returns until they agreed to political correctness. Most of these families gave in and complied, but my family refused. As a result, the IRS has refused to release our taxes on the basis that we’re conservatives, and that we’re unworthy of monetary value because we worship God rather than the Government. We get hate mail and death threats from people who claim to be “tolerant,” but have no tolerance of those who disagree with them. Liberals come and vandalize our home every day in the name of “tolerance,” but their actions just prove otherwise.

Now that the country has gone to hell, I’m worried that it is about to get worse. If only there was somebody brave enough to stand up to the liberal cartel and overthrow them… Well, there was nothing that could be done, so there I was at home, living in a subdivision just to the northeast of Beltway 8. I was sitting in front of the dining room table with my parents, eating breakfast with my dad, Takato; who is Japanese, and my mom, Holly; who is American. As we were eating, we were watching the news and weather, when a news report was displayed. “In the nation today, there have been alarming reports of parents being abducted from their children in broad daylight in various cities all over the country,” said the newscaster. My parents and I perched our heads up to the television to listen. “The children we spoke to, who do not wish to be shown on camera, have been living on their own without their parents, or taken to foster care and later sent to live with non-blood relatives. So far, reports from forty-three cities in twenty-seven states – all with the same stories – have not yet indicated any recoveries. No other information about this crime is available at this time, but we will be updating our reports as new information comes in.”

“That is so cruel,” my mom said. “Unforgiveable,” my dad added, as he was serving chocolate chip buttermilk pancakes for breakfast. “Those children deserve to live with their parents; a mom and a dad, forever and all time. Right, Takato?” asked my mom. “That’s right, Holly,” replied my dad. We made the sign of the Cross, stated a prayer and began to eat our food. “Minako,” said my dad. “What will you be doing today?” “I’m probably going to explore, and watch some TV,” I replied. “That sounds reasonable,” my mom said. “Just keep in mind that we’re going out for dinner tonight so we won’t be home until late tonight.” “Oh yeah, that’s right,” I replied. “It’s your anniversary tonight.” “Smart thinking, Minako,” replied mom. “I hope you guys have a happy dinner together,” I said. “We will,” my parents replied.

I went back to my room and I disrobed. As I looked myself naked in the mirror, I remembered a faint memory I had of my Grandparents, whom I have never seen since I was a little girl. All I remember was, when I was eight years old, my grandfather told me, “You are alive because of me. One day, you will be given an unbelievable opportunity…” But that was all I remember him saying. I did not have any idea what he was talking about at the time, or what opportunity he was mentioning, but unless I ever saw him again, I could not do much more than think. After staring at myself, I looked through my drawers for a bra. However, as I tried to protect my modesty, it turned out that my breasts outgrew my pink bra, resulting in sudden snapping. “Oh crap,” I muttered. I stopped covering up and put on a black sports bra, instead. Then, I put on my pink t-shirt and my blue school shorts. I brushed my teeth, then brushed my hair and placed a red ribbon on top.

I went outside to explore. As my parents drove off in the distance, I picked up a stick on the ground, and imagined it was a sword. Though I’ve never used a real sword before, I used my imagination to pretend that I was fighting in a Kendo match, which is the art of Japanese fencing and swordplay. Speaking of school, I graduated high school when I was eighteen. Having participated in Kendo clubs at the time, I often thought about going to college to learn more about Kendo and Japanese Martial Arts, but I have held myself back from doing so because of all the Political Correctness crap that has also corrupted education as it is. I also felt that even if I were good at Kendo, it wouldn’t be able to earn me a decent household income to support myself. Anyhow, as I continued practicing Kendo, I saw three elementary school children waiting for the school bus. They were each wearing crucifixes, and carrying bibles. They were just about to open and read verses from Exodus aloud, when suddenly; three middle school children approached the elementary children and started bullying them. “Put your bibles and crucifixes away so the Principals don’t see them,” one of the middle school kids said. I dropped the stick, and stopped to watch. I had my hopes up that the middle schoolers wouldn’t escalate the problem.

But they did. “No way!” cried the elementary school kids. “Give up your faith in God,” another middle school kid said. “Never!” protested the elementary school kids. “Then you’ll be expelled, and the scary President will take you and your parents away, FOREVER!” replied a third middle school kid. I didn’t believe the threat of the President taking their parents away, but I was so disgusted with the middle school children picking on the elementary school children over their faith in God that I walked up to the crowd. I was furious as I approached the bullies. “Why don’t you middle school children go pick on somebody your own size?” I said. The three middle school children turned to face me. “Like you?” the tallest student said. “Why are you messing around with children younger than your own age? Shouldn’t you be busy playing with your boobies instead of picking on little kids like us?” The middle school bullies laughed, and clutched their chests as if they were girls with large breasts to taunt me. However, I wouldn’t have any of it. “How about you little jerks run home to your mommas before I kick your little butts to the curb?” I threatened, cracking my knuckles. I was preparing to teach the middle schoolers a lesson, but the mere sight of my own fists were enough to scare the middle school children into running away. “We’ll walk to school because of you bigots!” they shouted. “Rotten turds,” I muttered. “Are you children okay?” I asked. “We’re okay, thanks to you, lady,” they said. “Don’t worry about those big meanies, because I’m bigger than they are, and they need to learn some manners. Take care and God bless you, kids,” I said, as I walked out of the neighborhood and made my way to the streets of the Beltway. The children were normally outgoing and Biblically outspoken, as they would always read Bible verses before the bus arrived without being bullied or harassed. I thought that my neighborhood was peaceful, but when I walked to the frontage road of Beltway 8, it turned out that I was wrong.

As I was walking near the marketplace, the people were acting strange and not in American fashion. Everywhere I went, men were everywhere on the streets, but hardly any women. The women who did appear on the streets in my neighborhood were all wearing Islamic veils, burqas and niqabs. Their hair was covered and not a single woman was cheerful or outgoing. As I walked around the belt near the supermarket, I shed a tear when I saw a burning U.S. Flag on the ground that nobody even bothered to save from destruction. Instead, they raised a flag that promoted racism against White people “Those heartless bastards,” I said. “America has become so Politically Correct that I don’t even recognize this place as home anymore! What else can go wrong in the neighborhood?”

In the midst of this so-called brave new home, I saw a woman walking by who was wearing American clothes in the distance. “At least some people have the courage to not dress all Middle Eastern in the country,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. But then, I saw a Muslim man approach her, and made a derogatory remark against her. “Where the hell is your burqa, niquab and veil, you low-life scum?!” he demanded angrily. “That’s none of your business, jerk,” replied the woman as she tried to walk away. But the Muslim man followed her, brandishing a machete. The woman turned around and gasped. “Get the fuck off our streets, or be slaughtered in the name of Allah,” threatened the Muslim man. The woman was so scared that she screamed inhumanely and was running towards me. The Muslim man pursued her, drew his machete, and shouted “ALLAH AKBAR!!!” as he threw his weapon to try to kill the woman.

Normally, my parents warned me against helping those who were being oppressed by Political Correctness. After former President Abdullah passed his anti-Conservative taxation, mom and dad told me to, “just go with the flow and don’t interfere, or you – or we – would be retaliated against.” However, seeing that this Muslim man wanted to kill an innocent woman was simply unacceptable, and I could not hold back any longer. Almost before it was too late, I grabbed the woman and ducked herself under a road sign “GET DOWN!” I shouted, as the machete missed hitting both of us, and struck a Do Not Enter sign. I was outraged. “HEY YOU!” I shouted. “Why don’t you go mess with somebody else and leave that poor woman alone?!” The Muslim man turned and surged toward me. “You, too, better get the fuck off the road unless you want to be slaughtered with that woman, you infidels!” he threatened. I didn’t care what the man said. All I did was grab him by his fist before he could hit me, and I flipped him over. “Why you…stupid infidel!” moaned the man as he lay in pain on the grass without even bothering to get up and fight. “That was too easy,” I said as I tend to the woman. “Are you alright?” I asked. “I’ll be alright, thank you for keeping that ugly man away,” she replied. But then, I noticed a small drop of blood on her clothes. “You’re bleeding on your chest!” I boomed. “Follow me, I will take you to the hospital.” “No, it’s alright,” protested the woman. “It’s nothing but a small scratch on my skin.” “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” I asked. “No, I’ll be fine,” she said, grabbing a bandage from her pocket and affixing it to her jugular area. “Thank you for helping me, good girl,” said the woman. “No problem, see you around,” I said.

I walked to the mall to do some window-shopping to take my mind off the slaughter that I narrowly averted. As I continued walking around, admiring all of the beautiful merchandise in the department stores, I couldn’t help but to think about what happened. “Why has my neighborhood – no, my whole country – changed, and why is everybody so offended by Christians reading Bibles?” I asked. “What gives those idiots at the supermarket the right to burn an American Flag and replace it with an anti-White flag that is so disgusting? And what gives a Muslim man the right to make women cover up, and not be alone in public, or be ruthlessly killed?” Before I could think about it further, I heard yelling in the distance. I walked up to the wing of the mall to find that an abortion clinic had been opened, and there were tens of hundreds of women lining up to get abortions. I was bewildered and shocked that an abortion clinic would be built inside the mall of all places. To make matters worse, there was a teenage girl being held by her mom in the line.

“Let go of me, Mom! I told you, I don’t believe in abortions, NOW LET ME GO!!” protested the teen girl. “SHUT UP,” snapped the mom. “You dug your own grave when you got sexed up by that jack-off, and now, you are going to pay the price for your disobedience!” The mom was gripping her daughter’s right hand so hard that it started turning blue from lack of blood flow. “LET GO, MOM!” yelled the girl. “YOU’RE KILLING ME!!” At that moment, I could not restrain myself. I jumped into the line, and slapped the mother in her face.

I checked the daughter to see if she was okay, but her mother was angry. “You impudent bitch!” she yelled. “It serves you right for holding this pregnant daughter of yours to get an abortion against HER will! Some mother you are!” I said. “Why don’t you just get lost and go shopping for baby clothes instead of forcing your own daughter to get an unwanted abortion?” The mother got angry. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER SO THAT I CAN GET HER AN ABORTION, OR I WILL DO SOMETHING YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET, YOU STUPID CUNT!!” she threatened.

© Copyright 2019 Andrew Maxfield. All rights reserved.


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