The Chains
He dreamed of victory.
Every night, Michael dreamed of the storm, the arrests, the public hangings of traitors.
He dreamed of the great reckoning, the moment when the plan would unfold, and he would be vindicated.
He dreamed of victory.
Every night, Michael dreamed of the storm, the arrests, the public hangings of traitors.
He dreamed of the great reckoning, the moment when the plan would unfold, and he would be vindicated.
But every morning, he woke up in the same chair, in the same dim room, surrounded by screens.
Telegram channels.
Rumble streams.
Endless posts…
…drops…
…decodes…
He’d stopped seeing his old friends.
Telegram channels.
Rumble streams.
Endless posts…
…drops…
…decodes…
He’d stopped seeing his old friends.
He’d quit his side job to “focus on the movement.”
He’d driven his family away with constant warnings, constant predictions.
“Just wait. Just hold the line.”
“The storm is coming.”
But tonight, Michael sat still, staring at the flickering Q board, and something cracked.
He’d driven his family away with constant warnings, constant predictions.
“Just wait. Just hold the line.”
“The storm is coming.”
But tonight, Michael sat still, staring at the flickering Q board, and something cracked.
How many years..?
How many false promises..?
How many lives wasted waiting for a signal that never came?
He felt a pressure on his wrists…
…and for the first time, he looked down.
How many false promises..?
How many lives wasted waiting for a signal that never came?
He felt a pressure on his wrists…
…and for the first time, he looked down.
There, curling around his arms, his chest, his throat: The chains.
Chains made of hashtags, slogans, Q-drops, digital threads.
Chains he’d wrapped around himself!
His pulse raced!
...his breath… caught.
Chains made of hashtags, slogans, Q-drops, digital threads.
Chains he’d wrapped around himself!
His pulse raced!
...his breath… caught.
With a sudden cry, Michael shoved the laptop off his desk.
The screen shattered, sparks crackling, the room plunged into semi-darkness.
The chains snapped!
He gasped, rubbing his wrists, realizing how long they’d been bound.
The screen shattered, sparks crackling, the room plunged into semi-darkness.
The chains snapped!
He gasped, rubbing his wrists, realizing how long they’d been bound.
The scars weren’t physical
they were mental, the confusion
…emotional, “my wife...”
spiritual. “Oh my God!”
They were so real.
He gasps…
…and as the realization floods him, tears begin to flow from his heavy eyes.
they were mental, the confusion
…emotional, “my wife...”
spiritual. “Oh my God!”
They were so real.
He gasps…
…and as the realization floods him, tears begin to flow from his heavy eyes.
Michael stood slowly.
The window stood open, cool night air rushing in.
Somewhere out there, the real world waited…
…unchained, unfiltered, and unfinished.
The window stood open, cool night air rushing in.
Somewhere out there, the real world waited…
…unchained, unfiltered, and unfinished.
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