Information
Satire
Once upon a pandemic, in the desolate locked-down wilderness of Nova Zelanda, the Red Witch Queen and her minions were in total control and enjoying every minute of it.
Over many months, the brutal gales of Level 4 had only abated to the icy winds of Level 3, while the Witch Queen continued to rule with cold, haughty imperiousness, ignoring the desperate pleas of her subjects to release them from their imprisonment. They languished, trapped, as so many of them and their livelihoods turned to stone, with shocking alacrity. Some had even crumbled away forever and would never return. The future was looking very bleak.
Any signs of dissent or disapproval were quickly dealt with by her well-rewarded and obedient palace guards, known as the MSM, who would regularly unleash their two top attack-wolves, Tovid and Avance. These cold-blooded creatures did their work well, sniffing out any murmurings of revolt or opposition, tracking down the rebels and viciously ripping out their throats. Fear, along with the Witch Queen, ruled over all.
After some time, in a few small dwellings around the country, what began as mere whispers of rebellion, began to spread from town to town, gradually becoming such a groundswell of noise that even the palace guards realised that they were no match for the size of the angry crowds, marching and riding into their town squares to protest and demand the return of the freedom to control their own lives. This was a day to remember, and even more was promised. With lockdowns being just one of many grievances, the crowds went back to their homes to regroup and plan the next uprising.
Although she was privately quite rattled by this show of defiance, the Witch Queen refused to concede to their demands and instead, snapped her fingers, indicating to her minions that her wishes should not only continue to be obeyed, but were to be fast-tracked. Despair fell over the country once again.
However, not long after this, and safely ensconced in his high tower, the former King made the decision to issue a public proclamation that things had to change, if the people were to have any hope. During his reign he had been a widely respected ruler and the country had been a happier place. The people sadly knew that he would likely never return to take the throne again, but were buoyed by his message, and looked for other signs to keep their dreams alive.
Sure enough, on the very same day, another voice, largely unheard for many months, rang out like a clarion call. From his secret hiding place, this would-be saviour spoke out in support of the former king’s words, and the excited whispers began again. “The prophecy is coming true!” they said, passing the news around in their small enclaves.
“YES!!” was the breathless, hushed reply as the name of the “one” was shared in every clandestine meeting place. “Winslan is on the move again… he’s coming back! Wait for his roar!”
