by Patrysha Dooke
Since I’m pretty certain I won’t last the night, I thought I should scribble down some final thoughts before I go. Maybe they can help preventing this from happening again. If nothing else, it’ll distract me from the thought of dying alone in an abandoned ice cream van.
Or, well, I won’t be alone. There will be women there when I die, too. Relentless, violent women with shotguns and knives.
I guess things had been building up to this point for years. Brewing and bubbling for decades, until it eventually spewed over. Women were finally fed-up, and increasingly started calling their frustration hate.
The spark was a war with a neighboring country. It harrowed our nation, cut it to the marrow. When peace finally returned, women outnumbered men almost three to one, and the horrors of war had removed the final strand of empathy from their hearts.
When we set to rebuild, they wanted to create something new.
Leaders have always known that fear is one of the greatest tools in their arsenal. Uniting the people against a common target conveniently shifts blame and makes the solution appear simple. Through history, it’s usually been immigrants and minorities. After the war, a leader emerged who turned the women against us men.
It started out simple enough. A curfew. Men were not allowed outside after dark. In the final days before it was enacted, we joked a lot about what they would to do outdoors with us no longer around. Knit, drink coffee, maybe discuss cute underwear and giggle… Orgies were commonly proposed too.
Reality turned out to be quite different.
We started hearing news of brawls. As time progressed, it became clear that what they meant was gruesome, savage beatings. Men who had refused to stay inside were overwhelmed by gangs of armed women. We tried to put a stop to this by pleading to our leader, nothing was done to prevent the assaults. Her response was always along the lines of “well, they all knew they were not allowed to be outside at night”.
Then came the rapes. There might be some of you, who have not witnessed what I have, who might think that women can’t rape men. You might even think men can’t be raped at all. How I wish you were right…
They said it was payback. That hundreds – indeed thousands – of years of abuse had led up to this point. Now, they were taking it out all at once.
The curfew had been in place for two months when the first man was killed. It was the pebble that caused an avalanche. Before long, female police officers were scraping up what was left of their male colleagues. No man was safe, and no man is.
You might ask yourself, what does our leader gain from all this? Surely no nation wins when so many men die? Well, men die in all wars. This is just another kind of war. And we have no way of defending ourselves. We spend our days scared and nights hiding. Most don’t even trust their wives anymore.
I’m hiding in this ice cream van because I was among those who wanted to fight back. Me and five others were supposed to meet up in the back of a barbershop to discuss how to organize, but they found us even before everyone had arrived.
I think I was the only one who got out alive.
And now I’m here.
I’m sure I’m missing pieces of the puzzle in this report – or whatever this is – but that’s all I can think of right now. Maybe some day, if I get through this night, I can