This was an assignment for my English class where we had to write a story containing our vocab words. See if you can pick out the words that were on my vocab list. Hope you enjoy! Teens
In the coal blackened streets of London, a stentorian voice rang out amid the dissonant clamor of city life, mesmerizing all those who were swept up by its undertow of power and emotion.
"To every thesis there is an antithesis!" cried the enraged orator from his place on the podium. "You capitalists have undoubtedly created a world market, a rich and prosperous economy and have made manifest the products of your system. But do you not see that as your pockets fill with gold, the food slowly dwindles on the plates of the people who strive to keep pace with your reckless consumerism, the proletarians who are the foundation of your life as it currently exists. No my friends, the era of the bourgeois is not one of wealth and industrialization, but of growing tyranny and division of society."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably as he continued his Philippic speech, for it was a gargantuan crime to denounce the all powerful parliament.
"Communism, my friends," acclaimed the spirited chauvinist, "is the thesis without the antithesis. It will be the utopia for mankind, but first we must boycott our corrupted government that is the Adonis of society, but below the surface is a miserly old man. The day of the bourgeois has ended, it is time for the proletariat to rise up and partake in their odyssey of social reform!"
The crowd erupted into a flurry of applauds, boos, and various cries of "You bloody quisling!" "Here! Here!" and "Down with the capitalists!" Standing amid the writhing crowd, stood a man. In his hand he held a worn musky red Baedeker and small compact book bound in dark brown leather. He was of tall stature and wore atop his head a tall top hat. His black eyes regarded the man on the podium with a queer intense interest as he stroked his carefully groomed beard. As the communist relinquished his stance at the podium, the man made his way gracefully towards him parting the crowd with an invisible force.
"Well," he said as he reached the communist, "your ideals are quite quixotic, but nonetheless inspire the crowd. You could easily win an alliance with the people, but what of the government? It is not easy to insult the upper henchmen and escape with impunity."
The communist nodded in agreement as he doffed a worker's cap and coat. "Yes," he replied, "I am in quite a damoclean situation, but it is for the good of humanity to know of the evil seeds capitalists are planting in society."
"And I presume you intend to be their mentor?" the black-eyed man interrogated, regarding the scruffy appearance of the communist with subtle disdain.
"Not I," the communist humbly replied, "Marx is their mentor. I am merely a messenger spreading the word." The two began to walk, the communist with an easy going manner paying no heed to the trash heaps that littered the cobbles, the other cautiously picking his away through the rubble.
"But Marx is dead," said the black-eyed man delicately stepping over a pile of horse manure.
"It is not Marx himself, but his Word that will guide the people," replied the communist with fervor. "Have you read the Manifesto?"
"A poorly bowdlerized version of it," replied the man "full of malapropisms and lacking any of the proper terminology. The proletarians are the sheep, the bourgeois the wolves and Communism the almighty shepherd." He laughed. "Marx's theory of diabolical materialism, thesis to synthesis through the antithesis, predicts the eminent end of the doctoral rule of the wolves over the sheep from the modern reductive forces to the modern conditions of seduction! The Good Shepherd will expel the pack of wolves and transpose labor into a means not to accumulate labor, but a means to widen, entrench, and promote the existence of labor. Its meaning comes out quite garbled. Personally, I think the idea is useless. "
"Indeed" the communist replied with open disdain, "Apparently you do not hold the same opinions as Marx."
"Not at all, humanity is too tainted to aspire to build the perfect utopia."
"You have no faith in the human race."
"Corrupt vile little creatures they are…"
"So the revolution of the proletarians is futile?" asked the communist, the fanatical spark dwindling in his eyes.
"I can make it not so," the black-eyed man said producing a pen and piece of parchment from the pocket of his coat. "I can produce a government you have always dreamed of, where there is no social hierarchy, a government that is the people and nothing but the people. And capitalism…"
"To hell with it!" vehemently cried the communist
"Precisely," the man replied, "It will be no more."
"But how can you make this happen?" asked the communist.
The man eyed him carefully, "I have….certain connections that will make it so." He said handing the parchment to the communist who scrutinized it dubiously. "And what is this?"
"A contract, pact, covenant, whatever you may call it," said the man unconcernedly, "merely proof of our agreement."
"And this government, it will be a true communist utopia?" inquired the communist
"I assure you, it will be to die for." The man smiled and pressed the pen into the communist's hand. As the communist inscribed his John Hancock onto the parchment, it burst into flames and crumbled into ash.
"And now, my comrade," the man handed the bemused communist the Baedeker and brown leather book, "here is your guide to Hell and if you get lost, just consult this splendid atlas, that Dante was so kind to create. Truly you didn't think that I being who I am will create your perfect idealized utopia? But being the chauvinist that you are, I'm not too surprised at your gullibility. I will create your beloved communist nation, but it will be ruled by the invisible hand of industry. My friend, you can't eliminate capitalism. It is like a roach, no matter how hard you try to get rid of it, it always comes crawling back. I will take sadistic pleasure in watching your pathetic race destroy itself through your government of salvation. I hope you're pleased and now my friend, adieu."
The communist cried out in despair as his skin crackled and burst into flame. Satan chuckled as he tipped his hat to the charred and blackened workman's cap and strode off down the coal blackened streets of London, leaving in his wake the lingering smell of brimstone and sulfur.