Fiction. Dystopian. Title: ‘A light in the darkne
Fiction. Dystopian. Title: ‘A light in the darkness’. Fictitious Probity shines her torch every night. The Unseen – skilled, intuitive and supportive – give words to her thoughts, keeping vigil with her. The ‘good shadows’ hear her – she hears them, and thanks them: each and EVERY one. Fictitious Massimo Ruzzo – a Personal Protection Officer by day – guards lawyers, journalists and others from The Elite. By night, he is the elusive and revered ‘Night Angel’ who flies the skies in his helicopter, intercepting human traffickers. He owns a security team who also help him with his work at night. His lover, fictitious Cassandra, is a nanny, who is his eyes and ears on the ground. Their work has become increasingly dangerous. A work of fiction.
A Light in the Darkness
Fictitious Probity adjusted the strap of her worn backpack, the weight of her torch a familiar comfort. It wasn’t a beacon of hope, not in the way the propaganda promised. No, her light was a defiance, a whisper in the darkness that dared to say: “We are still here.”
The Unseen, a collective of skilled, intuitive souls, whispered their support. They were her eyes and ears, relaying information, interpreting the coded messages of the city’s whispers. “The whispers are growing stronger tonight,” one voice said, a hushed murmur in her ear.
Probity nodded, feeling the tremors of fear and desperation in the air. The city, a once vibrant tapestry of life, now throbbed with the pulse of a dying beast. The Elite, their power absolute, had drained the color from the world, leaving only shades of grey and the chilling echo of their omnipresent surveillance.
“They are afraid,” another voice whispered, this one laced with a wry amusement. “The whispers of resistance are a tremor in their perfect world.”
Probity smiled, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “We are not whispers anymore, Unseen,” she whispered back. “We are the roar of a storm.”
Tonight, however, the roar was a desperate plea. A young girl, no older than ten, was trapped in a hidden warehouse, a victim of the Elite’s merciless human trafficking network. The whispers had spoken, their desperation a chilling echo in the night.
Probity’s torch, a small but resolute flame, led the way, her heart pounding with the urgency of the rescue. She knew this was a perilous mission, a dance with death in the belly of the beast. But the girl’s whispered pleas, carried on the wind, fueled her courage.
Across the city, Fictitious Massimo Ruzzo, known as the Night Angel, prepared for his own dance with darkness. By day, he was a Personal Protection Officer, shielding the vulnerable – lawyers, journalists, anyone who dared to speak truth to power. But by night, he transformed into a vigilante, a guardian of the innocent. He flew his helicopter, a sleek black shadow against the moonlit sky, his eyes searching for the tell-tale signs of the human traffickers.
His lover, Cassandra, was his eyes on the ground, a nanny by day, a vigilant observer by night. Her sharp mind and keen intuition provided the missing pieces of the puzzle, the intel that guided his actions.
“There’s a warehouse on the docks,” Cassandra whispered, her voice taut with urgency. “It’s the one the whispers have been pointing to.”
Massimo’s gaze hardened. He knew this was a trap, a calculated risk. But he couldn’t ignore the whispers, the screams for help that echoed in the darkness.
His security team, loyal and fearless, stood ready. They were his brothers in arms, his protectors in the shadows. They understood the risks, the sacrifices, the unspoken code that bound them together.
The warehouse, a concrete monstrosity, stood silent and oppressive. It was the perfect place to hide the innocent, to keep them locked away until their fate was decided. But tonight, the shadows held a different story, a whisper of defiance that echoed through the city.
Probity, her torch a beacon in the darkness, approached the warehouse with a determined stride. Her heart pounded in her chest, her every sense alert. The whispers were growing louder, urging her forward.
Massimo, his helicopter a silent predator in the night, circled above, his keen eyes searching for the slightest sign of movement. He was their shield, their guardian angel, ready to descend and claim the trapped girl from the clutches of the Elite.
Cassandra, a shadow in the shadows, observed from the periphery, her eyes glued to the warehouse, her heart echoing the urgency of the moment. She was their connection, the thread that bound them together, their lifeline in the darkness.
The air crackled with tension, the silence broken only by the whispers of fear and hope. In that moment, the city held its breath, its fate hanging in the balance.
For in the heart of the darkness, a light flickered, a tiny flame of defiance that refused to be extinguished. It was a whisper in the night, a cry for justice, a promise that even in the darkest of times, hope still flickered. And in that flicker, in that whisper, a new dawn was being born.
