The plan was set. The market next to the square was mildly busy and the sun reached the top of the sky when a crowd of misfits appeared from all corners. They rushed in to the middle of the square and then immediately fell to the floor as if struck by lightning and laid there spread out on the ground unmoving.
‘Ah god,’ said Johan, putting his hand to his face.
‘What’s happening?’ said Samedi.
‘WHAT IS LIFE,’ shrieked Cigar’s voice amongst the fallen. ‘WHEN WE LIVE ASLEEP?’
A small flag featuring the city crest was vigorously waved by another on the ground nearby.
‘It’s a die-in,’ sighed Johan.
Cigar’s voice rang out in the background with similar rhetoric from Delorian intermittently.
‘What’s this meant to achieve?’ queried Samedi.
‘I don’t know,’ said Johan noticing black clouds approaching in the distance. ‘But this should be fun to watch.’
After a couple of hours had passed the protest had become a silent stoic affair. A few guards had come over and inspected, prodding a few with their swords and left them alone when it started to rain.
Then it really started to rain.
Small puddles formed under the butts of the resistance. The marketplace was closing down and while packing away the stall Samedi noticed a shivering flag as the drenched group led stoically.
‘Think they’ll give this one up?’
‘I hope not,’ said Johan.
‘Gonna go all night,’ said the old man as he grabbed his cane and wandered down an alley home.
The market dissipated, what was left of the group lay on the soaked cobblestones, rain puncturing their faces, solely driven in their cause.
The air of nobility in their plight didn’t translate effectively without an audience, and some started the leave. The rest developed colds and called it a day. Cigar didn’t move, Delorian held on but needed to go to the toilet and then everyone gave up.
The city police chief turned to the sergeant next to him, both had been watching the scenes from inside behind the town hall window because it was raining.
‘Out of 10?’ said the Police Chief.
‘Terrible,’ said the sergeant.
Both laughed and clinked their tankards heartily.
‘To schadenfreude, sir!’
‘To schadenfreude indeed.’
A small dog scarpered along the soaked square and picked up the abandoned sodden flag. Returning to his kennel by the warehouse, the dog chewed on the flag for a while and then went to sleep on it.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
