The manner burns the east reign. A small group of rebels, about five in number, meet in the dark, dank recesses of the earth under Tiny’s Taco Hut. The ads they posted about town were always cryptic, never revealing enough to get arrested yet just enough to let other interested parties know what the Rebelution, as they called themselves, was all about. For a long time, no one dared to join their cause. They wanted to believe that their town, their segment of the ocean that bordered it, was immune to the rest of the world. It was not until a body was discovered, washed up on the shore, the flesh eroded from the bone, its features undistinguishable, and its gender unknown, that they began to wake up.
To outsiders, Tiny’s Taco Hut appeared as a regular business. Set just off the highway exit, tourists were a common sight, though not always a welcome one. In reality, the restaurant was the town’s epicenter. Everything happened there–from community meetings to elections to local trials easier solved outside the courthouse. Even the President of the Eastern United States gave his speech there, over a large covered burrito with a side of twice refried beans. If there was any business to discuss, it happened at Tiny’s Taco Hut.
For all the business held there, it should be in better shape. Fine cracks ran down the mustard yellow walls. A layer of dust mixed with grease coated the brightly colored sombreros and piñatas hanging from the ceiling. An out of order sign hung over the same stall in the men’s room for as long as anyone could remember. The subtle odor of urine overpowered the aroma of the food cooking for those unlucky enough to sit near the restrooms. Tiny’s definitely needed some improvement, but it was warm and familiar as it stood, so no one ever bothered.
This is why the second body went unnoticed for days. The Rebelution met for their weekly meeting and stumbled over it in a darkened corner. Like the first body, its features were unidentifiable though its gender was clear. This was the body of a man. We would quickly discover that it was the body of Howard Alders, the original founder of Rebelution. He was the loudest to protest the new manners of the land, the decisions of our region’s president, and a known political troublemaker. Needless to say, the Rebelution took it hard, even though Howard had not attended a meeting in twelve years.
The damage was done however and the uprising started. It was like the late 1600s all over again as the witch-hunt began. Someone in our small town was a murderer. No one was safe from questioning. Neighbors began killing neighbors over the simplest things. The town went berserk faster than a horse winning the Kentucky derby. The town became clearly divided, even those on the same side distrusting those around them. Several of us banded together and left, which was lucky for us indeed.
When we finally returned, after getting word that the rebellion was over, the town was nothing but bodies. We loaded them all inside Tiny’s Taco Hut and set the biggest fire the east coast has ever seen.
After all, it was only fitting since Tiny’s was the center of our living and ultimately our destruction.
This week, Bloggy Moms Writer’s Workshop challenged us to visit the Random Sentence Generator and begin or end our story with a sentence from there. I began the story with the random sentence, and used manner with this definition (from Merriam-Webster): plural : social conduct or rules of conduct as shown in the prevalent customs <Victorian manners>. The setting of Tiny’s Taco Hut was a prompt issued out by Chuck Wendig a couple of weeks ago I missed out on.
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