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“My friends, it is time to bring the ght to them.” He raised his voice enough to resonate throughout the whole café, drawing himself up to his full height. “Vive la Révolution!”
That spring, his world changed.
Summer came in hot on the heels of the tumultuous spring. He was busy every day, usually at rallies. Now that exams were over, he was free to focus on what he did best- rallying the peo- ple. Every time he spoke, more and more people were coming to listen to him. Soon, the underground bars and boarded-up warehouses that housed the rebellion lled with people stand- ing shoulder-to-shoulder to hear him speak. Thankfully, the government had more pressing concerns with a new war to the North. That kept him alive- for now. The support was ow- ing in from every side, and his voice was worn hoarse every night. He knew he needed to convince people to put aside their fear of the government, but it was hard. Ever since the mili- tary takeover that happened ten years ago, people were reluc- tant to speak out. Rebellious attitudes were often met with jail time- or worse- and nobody wanted that. He had to break that silence and force the issue into the open if he ever wanted to get anywhere.
He couldn’t mark the point when people found a new name for him. One day, he was simply a student, with nothing spe- cial about him, and he was exalted the next. He became simply ‘Rouge’, or ‘Monsieur Rouge’. The name t him, with his bright jackets and shoes he wore to protests. He adopted the name with honor, and he even began referring to himself as such.
Depressed
Poetry by Cassidy Danz ‘18
Depressed walks into a classroom, unnoticed, unwanted.
She walks down the hall in her ripped jeans and baggy, stained shirts.
She sits alone at lunch, she is too quiet.
She walks alone to all her classes and to the bus, she walks too slow.
She thinks she could never make an impact but in reality she does everyday.
She is never picked rst in gym, she has no friends to call her own or talents she likes to show
You see Depressed in the halls shu ing her feet, dropping her books.
She is never on high honors, she hates to try
She never auditions for the play she loves, she thinks she is talent-less
She never tries and never will, in her eyes she will never be good enough.
The plain white yers and ags were replaced with crimson words plastered on every street corner and alley. Rouge would see these papers and smile, seeing that his revolution was tak- ing hold among the people.
The greatest moment of the cause would happen only a few months later. His speech that night lled an entire warehouse. Seeing all the upturned faces focused on him lled him with a sense of tremendous power, and Rouge had never felt so alive. He called up friends to speak as well, and speak they did. Étienne, being a law student, advised the crowd on natural rights and their rights in case of an arrest; Jacques- another friend of his- translated everything into any language needed.
One of the highlights of the night came from Jean, who was the poet of the group. His speech silenced the crowd, present- ing them with beautiful words that spoke of a beautiful cause. “In response to our critics, who say that our cause will die with us, I wish to o er a simple quote by one of my favorite poets,” Jean said, preaching to the audience. “Pablo Neruda once said that ‘You can cut all the owers, but you cannot stop spring from coming’. We will have our spring of freedom!”
The applause was deafening, and Jean threw his arm around Rouge, grinning. As a new speaker took the stage, Rouge drew the poet aside, to a corridor as dark as the night outside.
“That was inspiring, Jean. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but still in- spiring.”
“Thank you, friend. You know, it is hard to call you ‘Rouge’ when I have known you for years.”
“Never mind that, I need you to write poetry for the cause. I want your most in ammatory and inspiring works to nd their way into the public eye. Can you do that?”
“Of course, it won’t be a problem. Give me a week.”
The week passed, and the elegant words of revolution scat- tered everywhere. Jean’s poetry was heard everywhere in the country, and even outside of it. The world was now watching the events in Paris with baited breath, knowing any small ac- tion could lead to all-out war. Rouge and his lieutenants- what people had taken to calling his friends- worked without rest to try to secure allies. But, no nations would support their cause, even just by endorsing it. The supplies of weapons were low, and morale among the people who were planning the actual rebellion was low. Fall had taken its toll on morale, and now the leaders were faced with a long winter that could spell the end of everything they worked for.
Winter brought with it the loss of one of their best assets. Sev- eral prominent working-class supporters were captured at a protest, with Rouge and Etienne barely escaping with their freedom. Shaken, many people withdrew their support from the cause.
What a bitter winter, Rouge mused, as he walked towards the cafe. Everyone is starting to question us, and I don’t have all
Spring 2015
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