2020 was a year of unimaginable loss and boiling social rage that one could have seen bubbling up over time. It was also the year that we failed to call attention to a well-crafted and all-too-timely flash fiction story by Renee Lake that won an honorable mention in the SWFFP contest. We need to remedy that right now. Previous contest judge Rita Banerjee loved how this “vivid” story reads as “Part ‘Fahrenheit 451,’ part ‘Hunger Games,’ and part Riot GRRL.” The strong ending reminded us of the importance of recognizing our own power in these uncertain times. We trust it will move you, too.

When We

Day 1
When they came and took everything over; when abortions were outlawed, and clinics closed, when birth control was made illegal and non-Cis Straight people imprisoned. We thought that was the worst.
Some states refused the new regime, even if many of their beliefs followed the same path.

Day 100
When we watched the news and saw thousands of people dying. Fighting a war, they couldn’t win. Execution becoming commonplace with words like treason painted on foreheads. We thought that was the worst.
Utah kicked out all non-Mormons and closed their borders, refusing anyone else entry.

Day 200
When they gathered everyone up, and broke the privacy laws. When they used social networking, medical records, court documents and gossip against us, to accuse us of our sins. We thought that was awful.
Oregon outlawed vaccines, and now armed guards patrol their state line.

Day 300
When they tattooed us with symbols of our lives and wrongdoings, our crimes against God and decency. They offered us choices; prison, reform or death. We thought that was awful.
African- Americans in Mississippi revolted and turned out white people. An African- American had to sponsor you if you wanted to stay or if you wanted in.

Day 400
When we watched female friends agree to Reform and are taken away to become someone’s wife, a brood mare, a nurse or housekeeper. We thought that was unthinkable.
Walls went up around large towns, and the land took over suburbs, and neighborhoods. Empty buildings mocking us from under tall grass and run-away vines. It’s disturbing how quickly things can go from bustling civilization to a ghost town.

Day 500
When we watched the mass execution of anyone from the LGBTQ+ community. We thought that was unthinkable.
Our children were taken from us and placed in homes around the city, two girls, two boys.

Day 550
When other countries started to see the U.S. as a third world country began refusing refugees, and the hope of being rescued was lost. We thought that was frightening.

They brought us to the courts to be judged, to be given another chance, another option aside from death. We were a fertile woman and a white man, we could fit in their society. Reform or the Hunt.

Day 551
When we chose the Hunt. That was frightening.
24 hours to leave the city. To get out of the boundaries where Scouts couldn’t find us.
13 hours of a twisted scavenger hunt to find our kids.
6 hours to gather what we needed to survive outside the walls; no access to food, fresh water or knowing where we could obtain shelter.
5 hours to get outside the city boundaries to get our kids to go 10 miles until we were safe.

Day 555
When we found the old hospital with a group of city refugees willing to take us in. That was hope.
They were surviving; had a garden, a midwife, a nursery and emergency electricity. Friendly people who only asked that we contribute what we could.

Day 580
When the kids stopped crying themselves to sleep and we could finally have a few moments of peace. We were hungry, but not starving. That was hope.
Almost two dozen of us, mostly women, tattoos bright against our skin. Glancing across the room at someone who shares your mark is oddly comforting.

Day 600
When we could stop being “we” and be individuals again. That was better.
Not being with them 24/7 stopped giving me anxiety. He could read worn, moth-eaten books alone and the kids could go play.

Day 630
When we decided we should embrace our new selves, have a support group and create a new, larger family. That was better.
I sat in a group of women and we touched our faces, arms, and necks, where we were marked.
Pink F: Feminist
Red and blue-ribbon dripping blood: Voluntary abortion
Red dots: One for each assumed sexual partner
Gold star: For every marriage
Green x: For each child born out of wedlock
Blue L: Liberal
Purple diamond: LGBTQ+
Black Pentagram: Not Christian
Orange S: Abuse of a vice
Yellow P: Pervert

Day 601
When I realized I wasn’t the only one with every single tattoo. That was the best.
We can make a new life for ourselves and maybe, one day, we will be able to fight back.

Renee Lake is a 37-year-old Puerto Rican from Utah. She has a bachelor’s degree in Healthcare Administration and Management. She currently works in the world of locums. Renee has four children. She is married to a fellow book lover and their house has more bookshelves than anything else. Four cats keep Renee as their pet. Two old grumpy males, and two females. One neurotic and one who tries to eat her hair for attention. Renee loves bats, dinosaurs and is passionate about women’s reproductive rights and equality. As a small child, she wanted to be a vampire more than a princess and filled notebooks and old floppy disks with stories. She prefers to lend a dark tinge to her writing. Her stupid super-hero power is the ability to hear a song once and be able to sing it back. When she’s not taming crazy kids or working full time she is writing. You can also find her exploring the wilds of Thedas or shopping at the Citadel. Her gender-bent Dracula retelling, “Blood Born,” is available from Fire and Ice YA press. Learn more about all her books on her Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Renee-Lake/e/B00J3ZG00C