by Marlon Pierre-Antoine
As the old cliché went, change was in the air.
No, I corrected myself, looking down from my princely balcony and down to the crowd of teeming masses below. Change had already come. This was something greater. This was revolution.
Revolution, yes – a complete rotation, a total overhaul. The whole world had been turned upside down, and my peers seemed unable to cope with the vertigo.
The palace gates flung open. The slaves poured through, coming to reclaim the deeds to their souls that we had kept clenched in our hands for so long.
I knew what they would call me. Capitalist. Aristocrat. Exploiter; oppressor. And they were right.
But I wasn’t ready to end my days, not just yet. Dawn was coming, and I wanted to know what the warmth of the Sun felt like in this new world.
I threw off the heavy shroud of tradition that weighed down on my shoulders. I didn’t even realize how choked and suffocated I had been with its heavy burden, until it was gone.
I went downstairs, into the palace hall, and stormed heaven with the newly christened angels.
