Jump to content

A Roar of The Lion


Dark Mousy

Recommended Posts

Well. I'm still planning a lot of it.

 

[spoiler= Plot]

The tragedy of 6/4, is what the Western World has named it, although more commonly known as the 1989 Tiananmen Square Protest. This fan-fic entails the story of Dan, an university student, who leads the students into the machine guns of the Chinese Army.

 

 

[spoiler= Characters]

Wu'er Kaixi

Uighur Descent, one of the minorities in China. He vows to break the iron fist of the Communist Government.

 

Dan Wang

The student leader of the protests. He wishes for a democratic China.

 

Dongyue Yu

A close friend of Dan, a student studying Journalism, he would later be tortured, and driven insane.

 

Weilin Wang

Another close friend to Dan, he would later become the Tank Man.

 

Ling Chai

A female student in love with Dan, she joined the revolution to gain more rights for women.

 

Jiabao Wen

A Communist student in political sciences, he is not interested in overthrowing the government, but he is interested in reform. He would later be the premier of China.

 

Jian Cui

A student in the Arts Trade School. He wants to be a musician, and his songs would become the revolutionary anthem.

 

 

[spoiler= Prologue]

For as much as I can remember, I remember burning. The burning of artwork, the burning of hope, the burning of dreams, while I could only watch, and do nothing about it.

 

History goes that after a century, a painful century, from defeats, by colonial armies, Japanese, British, French, Russian, American, and Dutch, a man, Zedong Mao rose. The song still plays "Arise, all who refuse to be slaves... raise high Zedong's banner! March on! March on! March on! On!".

 

It's doubted that Mao was responsible for the massacres, but a Western historian would put the blame on him. It is the lack of freedom, lack of way to express ideas, choked by the rigor of the Communist system. My father was a victim of that.

 

My father, was a painter. A modern painter, he drew pictures with the contemporary American style, I never understood that, but in 1971, after the Purge that resulted from the Cultural Revolution...

 

"Go hide, the Red Guards are coming!" hissed my father, looking out the window.

 

"But..."

 

"Go Dan! Go to the basement, hide!"

 

That was it. That was the last clear statement I heard from him. I heard the Red Guard knock on the door. Black Market charges, some indistinguishable arguing, a gunshot, then some return volleys. Then silence. I rushed back upstairs, the house had been set aflame. The studios of art, up in flames. I knew I had to get out...

 

Freedom of art and expression..., they went into flames..., and my father died for it...

 

I had nothing better, I watched the house burn, I was completely useless...

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...