A story I came up with as a parody of certain people on the internet. This was inspired by a recent event, but it was actually boiling under my skin for quite a while now. Don't get triggered now, we're going in deep.

In a distraught and war fueled nation, a warrior emerges. A warrior whose shield is their anonymity and their sword is their keyboard.Far away from the battlefield for anyone to know their name, the warrior lies, searching the world to set right what once went wrong.

Upon their wall a picture stands of a feminine creature with eyes that peer right into their very essence. It is in those eyes that the warrior sees a righteous flame, scowling down millions of those that oppose their righteous mother in a sacred fire, cleansing the earth of all the filth. It is in those contemptuous eyes that the warrior sees true greatness and the very best that their filthy race has to offer.

They know that all of those ignorant primitive and priviliged beings, that conflict their Mother, are only evil demons sent straight out of the gates of Hell to tempt them. These beasts of logic only want to lure them away from the path of righteous equality and throw the righteous fighter straight into the claws of the unforgiving patriarchy.

However, the warrior shall not yield.

Even though the warrior despises the very flesh in which it walks around, they know that they are not to blame. Why it is not their problem that they are not doing so well away from the keyboard now is it? Is it their fault that the world does not give them what their heart wants? Of course it isn’t! The world itself strives on the souls of people like they are and they are aware of this fact. Whole companies and businesses are built just to crush their self esteem. After all, that is what their Mother had taught the blind warrior to believe.

And thus every day, they lead on new battles, hoping to help eliminate this scourge once and for all. They will fight for justice, equality and they will help other people understand the true meaning of their sacred goal. The divine hand of their Mother guides them and it will make them strong once more as the warrior searches their land for any problems.

They are pleased with the ever growing following they had acquired over the years of battle. Their cohorts scream in unison with them proclaiming a stand against the invisible ‘oppressors’. It pleases the warrior to know that other people echo their thoughts, unaware that they too are nothing but an echo of insanity. However, all is not right in their nation.

As the warrior notices the new development, they are astonished by the oppressive nature of their enemy.

The enemy strikes with laser accuracy, hitting the first critical point of the warrior’s attack. The enemy’s power is fueled by logical arguments, established in the realm of the real world, one the warrior dares not interact with. The enemy uses calm rational, exploiting the facts that the warrior got wrong, and even going out and attempting to reason with their supposed enemy.

The more the warrior reads, the more they become worried that this might be the end of their reign. Unable to combat these arguments the warrior tries to find one specific word. And there, in the second line of the enemy’s attack, the warrior notices something.

In the second sentence, the warrior noticed that her enemy had made a foolish, crucial error; they called the mighty warrior a ‘she’.

Had they not realized that the warrior is a holy entity? Had this ignorant, lowlife peasant, forgotten that the warrior is a powerful being, that transcends all race, all genders and everything else in-between?!

The unfortunate fate of the poor soul had been sealed with that one, insignificant and factually correct word.

The warrior’s sword is swift and merciless for those against their ideals. They type, furious by the assumption that they ever could be amongst the plebs of the ‘cis’. The warrior lashes out a furious storm of fire and curses upon the benign rational for the unfathomable sin of referring to them by their gender. Their fury was powerful, but it was short lived as another battle was just around the corner.

The warrior continued on their search through their page until stumbling upon yet another well meaning critic. This one astonished the righteous warrior even more as it was from a member whose gender and race she was trying to defend.

The warrior silently shakes their head and lets out a single tear for this poor oppressed person. The poor thing was clearly brainwashed by the society they had been forced to live in. A single tear of sorrow escaped the warrior’s proud eyed and slipped down their cheek.

Like a mother talking to her child, the warrior truly embraced this lost soul and explained to her how unfortunate she is to still be in the dark.Furthermore, the warrior felt sad for this poor lost sheep, that had gone so far as to bite the hand of her shepherd, but, in their ever-loving benevolence, the warrior wished them no harm and the best in life, hoping that one day they will see the truth and join them in the holy crusade.

A few more similar comments appeared and the warrior repeated the same process all over until, finally, all those who opposed them were good and silenced. The warrior sighed and browsed the plains of battle for a while.

As the mighty warrior rested, they reminisced about different times she felt oppressed by the disgusting patriarchal system. All those awful marketing agencies that always made her insecure about everything she was. It had to come to an end.

However, there were no replies to the warrior during this day.

Without the attention, and the thrill of battle slowly dying out, the warrior felt like she was slowly fading away. In order to enhance the flames of war the just warrior searched for the one type of injustice they knew they could find.

Quickly they rushed to the land of debauchery and searched for something to rally the masses. The warrior managed to find their spark in a form of artistic expression.

The disgusting appearance of th characters from a children show being slimmed down and slightly altered triggered something demonic in the heart of the mighty warrior. Did something remind the powerful warrior of her own past and of her own mistakes? Was it due to their own insufficiencies that the warrior felt threatened by the appearance of these altered characters? Whatever it was, we will never know, but it was enough.

The warrior marked this land for conquest and return to their own nation. With a powerful proclamation the warrior set forth their plan in to action

My fellow followers heed my call. Come forth all yee oppressed and witness the demonic works of a heretic. Witness one and all the disgusting propaganda that is this artwork. Observe as your beloved characters are being perverted to suite the horrifying patriarchal need. I urge you all, my fellow oppressed nation, rise up against this tyrant. Rise up from the woodwork my warriors of virtue, awaken all you who seek social justice, and defeat the malicious beast that had done this. Cut off the head of the serpent, before it seed can spawn more of the same kind.”

And with that proclamation firmly posted on their wall, the warrior went to sleep. Their words were not ignored as their followers preached and encouraged all those who spoke against this one artist. The warrior was happy with their little crusade as they watched the poor artist shrink back and pull to their corner.

The innocent little hobby of one expressive soul was shrunk back more and more as the ego and self righteous nature of the warrior grew. However, something happened. Something the warrior had not been prepared for.

A year passed since their original battle. The weights of the warrior’s war had been forgotten by their followers and continued by some other crusaders speaking on their behalf.

The warrior awoke that day seeing, in utter shock and disbelief that their follower number had halved since last night. Those same that stood shoulder to shoulder with the ever so powerful warrior were now retreating to the ponds from which they came from, deleting any and all associations with the significantly weaker warrior.

Twas unbelievable!

How could such a disaster befall the poor noble warrior? Their stomach churned as new comments appeared on the warrior’s page, each one revealing a fragment of the story. As it would be, the warrior’s target couldn’t take it anymore. The righteous crusaders managed to crush her spirit, some going to great lengths and shady dealings just to find the artist’s address and threaten the poor soul.

All these events transpired to cause the artist to take their own life. Luckily for the warrior, they were unsuccessful, but the scorn came quickly and swiftly, just like the social justice they fought for.

The warrior could not believe it. How could they be led astray? How could this happen?

Suddenly something clicked in their mind. They’d wish it to be not so, but it had to be so.

Their comrades and fellow fighters had been led astray by the false accusation thrown at them by this artist’s false accusation. The despicable beast used manipulation to gain sympathy. In the warrior’s depraved mind this had to be so, since no sane person would dare defy their judgment.

They claimed lies and slander, but the evidence kept piling up against the warrior. Of course, it was nothing but a bunch of propaganda and lies against their holy power.They knew that they weren’t in the wrong, yet they were slowly being driven away from the site. The enemy started off small, but soon grew exponentially larger as the warrior refused to terminate their call to the crusade. The enemy grew harsher and harsher as the warrior finally understood Newton’s law of action and reaction.

They held down their fort, but it was impossible. The endless barrage didn’t stop nor did it begin to yield. Without an option, the warrior left their nation. The oppressive nature of this situation was too much for the poor warrior to bear and thus they pressed onwards.

Perhaps a new nation will finally accept them for who they truly are.

Moon’s beams slowly creep into the warriors room as the gentle darkness caress the righteous fighter to sleep. In the shadows, they hide as their true nature is revealed by the moonlight’s scorn.


Submitted: November 10, 2015

© Copyright 2023 Jonathan DeLacuso. All rights reserved.

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peacemaker06

I am reading this at the end of a long day so I became a bit lost but I got the gest of it all. It seems the warrior lost his way, which almost cost the artist his life. I can relate to this and know that we have to keep ourselves in check all the time as we don't want to become what we despise. Anger and hatred breed negativity and self destruction. And in this case, almost the destruction of another. definitely a different style from you my friend, and it just shows how diverse you are. the early part of this piece reminded me of my own crusade to expose society as a fraud. Power to the people! All power to you my friend ") and thanks for a thought provoking read.

Fri, November 13th, 2015 8:21am

LeParadisNoirPoetique

I don't know how to approach this. I have some thoughts of what is going on, but it's hard to explain. It is like the warrior is a new site, or a new page, erasing those before it, and becoming something popular, only to be overthrown somewhere down the line. And it is like the warrior and artist are one, but seperate entities. In the end, both with the same agenda in real life and online, to show how much of a fraud society is. I may be wrong, but this is interesting, and a fascinating way of portraying a message. I did enjoy it, even if I got lost trying to figure it out.

Tue, November 24th, 2015 3:07pm

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As it appears I may have gone a bit too cryptic with the message of this one. This interpretation is amazing as it is similar to what I interpret it. The 'warrior' in this story is a reference to a movment called 'social justice warriors'; a group of people who claim to fight for 'equality' but in real have no idea what they are trying to do (see Anita Sarkeesian and similar). The artist was yet another reference to a real life event where a girl, using deviantart, was subjected to hate blog after hate blog until she almost took away her life. In this I tried to analyze what these twisted individuals must have going through their heads to justify such actions. This was my interpretation of what goes on in their mind and how they see the world around them. Thank you for reading it so much :D

Tue, November 24th, 2015 11:43am

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