Skirts On Fire

Gather round, gather round and hear the tale of our land’s glorious heroes.  Their united dream of a better life led to the downfall of the most vicious of villains.  Hear what must be retold and never cease to forget.Many years ago, we lived in peace and tranquility.  We were a rich nation of friendly and kind citizens, merely making our way in the world, always with a mind to the care of the next generation.  Perhaps it was our naivety or maybe our optimistic outlook but when he came to our lands, we welcomed him openly as a neighbour should.  Surely the tales of his hunger were lies, we thought.Instead he brought his armies, a cruel group of men, who lived to push us down and keep us from soaring to great heights.  We were a peaceful people with no concept of violence.  We were unprepared and quickly overpowered.  Subjugated by those we had trusted, life became very dark.  Our wings had been clipped and we all lived in fear of the invading swine.  Whispers were heard about the unimaginable horror of our children, stolen in the night and coming to who knows what end before even then could witness their first sunrise.  Witnesses claimed to see midnight shipments of the nonstick cooking device none of us would dare to name enter his palace.Many generations would pass before a glimmer of light would return.

They were brothers – that much was obvious as no strangers could share such red colouring.  George, Bert, and Peter where only separated by a year and the best of friends.  Their father was brutally killed just after the youngest had been born but it was well known that their mother had kept his memory alive.  The rotund invaders were a disease that had infected them personally.  They grew up hating the portly king with his upturned nose.

Travelling home from the market one day, two soldiers noticed the widow, quickly and quietly passing by, trying to remain unnoticed. She failed.  She was known to them.  What began as a simple demonstration of their sick power to control ended up in her murder.

The brothers were devastated.  The conversation began after her funeral.
“How can this have happened?” cried Bert.
“Why weren’t we there with her?” lamented George, who always took his responsibility as the oldest so seriously.
“Why did that sick bastard ever come here?” Peter added.
They sat down at the kitchen table and clinked their glasses to their dear mother.  A few more rounds went by and the irrationality of the drink began to kick in.
“It’s not right to live this way!” George strongly insisted.
“I don’t want us to live in fear!” demanded Peter.
“But what could we possibly do?” Bert said with defeat.
“We could end it…” and with that George set them along the path to their glory.

At first it was just the three of them but it quickly became clear that they would need help.  Carefully, cautiously, they approached their closest friends – Alexander Canary, Marcus Raven and the twins, Shawn and Sheila Bluebird.  They began training, egging each other on but supporting each other and building one another up.  But for all their practice, it was clear that an advantage would be required.  They were at a loss.  What could they create to give them a victory over evil?

One night the eldest brother burst in on a training session.
“I have it!  I know what we can do!” he exclaimed.  He gestured to them to come closer and started pointing to a sketch.  They nodded at his brilliance and a careful plot was hatched.

“Well, are we ready?”
“As ready as we will ever be”
“Is the weapon ready?”
“Yes, and at dawn we will raise it and begin our fight.”

Dawn.  The golden sun lit the clear sky. With the weapon in position outside the king’s house, the fighters formed a circle around it.

“Together, we can do this!” Peter cheered.
“No, we will do this!!” George replied.

They lined up behind the weapon with the king’s palace before them. The fortress of stone, wood and ice loomed but they knew this was their destiny.

The first of them climbed up the weapon and prepared himself. Pulling back and taking careful aim, he shot himself towards their enemy. The explosion took out a corner of the king’s palace.  One by one, they followed him, their bodies inflicting damage, until the king could be seen among the ruins, his soldiers lying dead around him.  He had lost an eye and was already bruised and battered.  The last of them, Alex, dressed in the finery of his family name and glowing as brightly golden as the morning sun, climbed into the weapon.  He sent up a prayer above and launched himself.  Approaching his victim, he felt a strange sensation along with body, almost like a tap, and with that, a burst of speed.  He flew towards his target, exploding him into a thousand pieces.

With the king’s demise, the people were free.  Life returned to what it once was and the people let their fear fall away.  We never forget our Freedom Fliers and how they gave themselves for us.

Little did we know that in the lands of king’s relatives, plots of sweet revenge would continue to plague us.  New heroes would have to step up to replay the battle for freedom over and over, across many different terrains if our new life were to continue.  Fortunately we had the Tap of God on our side.

Many thanks to @stimms for the idea