My partner teaches second grade and they've had lock down drills the past two days. Yesterday it was announced as being a drill, but today the kids weren't told it wasn't a drill. One of her students was in the bathroom when the announcement went off and another student in class worriedly asked about her missing friend. My partner assured her that her friend was ok and that this was just practice and she replied "oh good. I thought I lost my best friend"
Fucking second grader worried that her best friend is dead because school shootings have become just a standard part of American schools.
And it brings back memories of the drills I went through (well, one in particular) and count myself lucky that at least for me the lockdown drills didn't start until middle school.
Discussion of that particular drill below the cut. TW: school shootings, child death (all in the context of drills)
When I was in eighth grade my school held a lockdown drill, but this time they were involving the local fire department, ambulance, police, etc. And to do so they decided to paint up students with fake wounds and have them pretend to be injured. But they didn't ensure all the students knew it was a drill beforehand.
It started with the sounds of gunshots and announcements to initiate lockdown. After remaining in lockdown awhile, we were led out of the school past students crumpled in hallways and stairwells. I remember fog but I'm not sure if that's just the haziness of my memories. We were led away from the school and walked a couple blocks to town hall.
And, like, the fuck?! Why was that ever allowed to happen?? (Probably bc it was 2 years after 9/11 and 4 years after columbine).
But yeah. I don't know how to wrap this up but I needed to get this out
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This one has a prologue, but before I begin:
CW: Antisemitism, terrorism
(full triggers for the work are at the end of the prologue)
Last Saturday, the 15th of January, a synagogue in Texas was taken hostage by an armed Islamist. Very few non-Jewish sources covered the attack, and those that did often refused to acknowledge antisemitism's role in the situation. I could write a long essay about the situation, but that's not why I'm making this post. What I'm really mad about at this point is that no one acknowledges antisemitism in American society. It is an incredibly prevalent issue from all areas of the political spectrum: Neonazis are not the only people prone to violent antisemitism.
Why is this relevant to whump, you ask. Good question. Writing is a political tool. And I had no inspiration for this month's prompt, so I wrote a story about darkness and antisemitism. The story I am about to tell is not a depiction of events I know have occurred in real life. But they could happen. Most of the whump I write is realistic fiction, and this is no different. An attack on a synagogue is not some far-off myth. It is real. It happened last week. The hostages last week were lucky that they did not get hurt. They were lucky that the Rabbi had been trained for a situation just like that. It could have ended much differently, but it didn't. So I wasn't ready to have my characters get injured as a result of antisemitism. This story is mostly emotional whump, but it mirrors the real thoughts and feelings of Jews.
I recognize that I take a huge risk by posting this. I let the world know that I am Jewish and that I will not be quiet about it. I'm turning commenting off. All antisemitic reblogs will be blocked and reported. You do not have to read the story if you do not want to.
One final disclaimer: I do not condone any of the behaviors in this story. I am not endorsing anything in this story. I am not lying about real experiences; this is a work of fiction.
HEAVY Trigger Warnings: antisemitism, terrorism, guns, anti-jewish slurs, lockdowns
“We turn to page 157 for Maariv Aravim,” Rabbi Harwitz says.
Chaia couldn’t even turn the page before she could no longer see the siddur in her hands. A sudden darkness encapsulates the sanctuary. The only light came from the eternal light above the ark and the two Shabbat candles on the bimah. This isn’t supposed to happen, Chaia thinks, there must be a power outage.
“Well, that’s ironic,” the rabbi jests into the still-on microphone. “I’m sure we’ll find out what’s going on shortly.”
The power can’t be out if the microphone is still on. The microphone is almost always on so it doesn't need to be turned on during Shabbat, but lights are also almost always on. Something is wrong.
James, Maria’s favorite security guard, rushes into the sanctuary carrying a flashlight. “We are dealing with a situation out front. I need everyone to take cover on the floor in front of your seats and remain absolutely quiet.” The light disappears as fast as it appeared. James runs back to the lobby.
Chaia slides off the velvet cushion of her seat, joining her purse on the floor. She curls up in a ball, tucking her siddur between her legs and her chest. Maria does the same. So this is it, Chaia thinks. Hundreds of years after Maria’s family fled Spain and decades after my family fled Germany, we’re still targets. We should’ve moved to Israel after Maria finished culinary school.
Chaia’s thoughts are interrupted by a thud outside the sanctuary. A loud voice shouts, “They will pay! The Jews, the Zios. They are Nazis. They control the world, pulling strings that make life harder for people like me!”
The words send a chill down Chaia’s spine. Terrified, she pulls her wife closer and into an embrace. Her hand subconsciously finds Maria’s pulse. It’s hard and rapid. Even without being able to time it with her watch, Chaia knows that Maria’s heart is beating more than 150 times per minute. Is this a panic attack or a tachycardia episode? Chaia can’t tell and she can’t ask Maria. She gently feels the floor around her, searching for her purse. She instinctively grabs the pulse oximeter but realizes it’d be pretty bright in the darkness, which wouldn’t be great. It isn’t even what she is really looking for. Finally, she wraps her hand around the water bottle she’d packed. Chaia gently unscrews the lid. She grabs Maria’s right arm and places it against the bottle. Next, she slowly feels for Maria’s face with the hand the lid is in. She guides that bottle to Maria’s mouth.
Maria gratefully accepts the water, gulping down what had to be at least ten ounces in thirty seconds. She slowly lowers her upper half to the ground, allowing her heart to be at the same level as her head.
Moments later, a chorus of footsteps storms into the room. As they enter, the lights turn back on. “SWAT Team keep your hands where we can see them!” one calls out.
The entire congregation tentatively raises their hands into the air. Chaia slowly stands up, making sure that her hands are visible to everyone else at all times. As per her expectation, all the black-clad figures in the room shift to aim their machine guns at her. “My name is Chaia Glassman,” she states in an oddly calm voice. “My wife is having a medical emergency and needs assistance. She is on the floor next to me.” Despite her outward appearance, Chaia is freaking out. Her stomach flutters. Her legs are numb. Her eyes well with tears.
One of the figures turns into the radio on his vest. “We need medical.” He then turns his attention to the whole congregation. “We need you to evacuate through the back door over there.” He points to the door he entered the sanctuary from. “Keep your hands where we can see them. You may take your things, but they will be screened when you get outside.”
“What about our coats at the front door? It’s cold out!” a scared voice asks.
“You must exit through the back door. There is a warming station set up outside.” The officer responded.
“Why?” another voice chimed in.
“We have reports there may be a bomb out there. The bomb squad is sweeping the place.”
Rabbi Harwitz rises, keeping his hands interlocked behind his head. He walks to the door and a SWAT officer accompanies him out. Others follow suit, but Chaia waits attentively by Maria.
After almost everyone else is out, EMTs surrounded by seemingly an entire SWAT unit enter the sanctuary. “Over here!” Chaia cries out.
The EMTs park the stretcher in the aisle beside the row of seats Chaia and Maria are in. “Ma’am, you have to go outside now,” one of them tells Chaia.
Chaia hooks her foot through her purse and shuffles into the aisle to get out of the way of EMS. “She has dysautonomia and mast cell activation syndrome and- you know what, her emergency medical booklet is in my purse.”
An officer kneels down beside Chaia’s purse. “May I?” he asks, picking Chaia’s purse up to find the booklet. As he does that, one of the EMTs picks Maria up and lays her on the stretcher.
The other EMT takes the booklet from the officer and flips through it. He looks at Chaia. “She’s in good hands. We’ll start treatment once we get outside.”
Wait but imagine Lucifer trying to cope with long distance working though
Like you expect him to do everything from his desk and all on a laptop? He has to video call people and make arrangements that way? Just send him an email for Diavolo’s sake, it wastes so much less of his time. And he has to deal with the internet cutting out because his brothers are all using it too, or technology just generally bugging out and not! Doing what it’s supposed to be doing!
Like what the f- He literally didn’t click on anything, why did that close, why is Wing telling him about some random place in the human world, he was just trying to start his laptop? And why does he have to do captchas every time he wants to log onto his emails?
You can’t go near Lucifer’s room or his private study because he Will explode if anyone even dares to talk to him. He hears Mammon’s voice through the walls 1 (one) time and he’s gone. Done. He can’t do this. He’ll personally end this damn virus himself, and honestly he’d just purge anyone who wasn’t properly adhering to lockdown rules and was deciding they’d inconvenience him by being a vector for disease.
Like really he just ends up this || close to ending anyone he sees. Oh, and you’re telling him this is going to last a whole year? :) Please excuse him for a moment he just has somewhere else to be- oh wait he can’t leave the house.
Edit: Did not in fact consider that he also still has to attend classes but Now Online™️, on top of everything else. You can see his similarities to Satan when he just starts to smile through it all and he radiates heat like a poorly contained fire that’s way too close to something flammable. Dangerous
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While I'm sharing stories, did I tell you about the time my school was in lockdown because of somebody carrying a gun that later turned out to be just a water gun?
Hey guys, sorry I haven't been on recently, I've just been out of whack with my writing. I'm going to make time tomorrow when I wake up to try and do some things that inspire me, so I'll get at least a few things done. Sorry for constantly making y'all wait lmao it's just hard times right now. Hope you're all staying safe!! Ask me in IMs if you want my discord, but if not I'll catch yall on the flip side.
