Gentle Snow, Falling on a Red Square

Icy breath poured out of Dimitri’s Mouth and into his hands. He rubbed them together shivering. Today it was snowing. Yet people still filled the square and cheered with such ferocity as if they were trying to melt all the snow with its heat. The cheers rose in waves and crashed onto the shore, oblivious of what it swept away. Standing, erect, on the highest point, Lenin was able to call the waves back and forth as he wished. Dimitri hated Lenin but it seemed that not many others did.1

Sheep, the whole square seemed to be full of them with Lenin as the shepherd and the soldiers his dogs. But the shepherd was just a puppet, a mouthpiece; anyone near the podium knew that, at least those who were not a part of the crowd. Sometimes it seemed that all that remained of the Tsar’s reign were the toppled statues. The crowd parted around the statues as if they were wolves that no one was quite sure whether or not they were dead yet.2

The voice of Lenin continued to spew its pre-written speeches stuffed with propaganda. The crowd cheered as if it were they that gave the new government their power to deceive the populace with their dream, as if it they were the ones who had ‘liberated’ Russia. Most of the crowd would have made decent soldiers given enough time but now the thought of them even marching with the facade of being a soldier was ridiculous. The smell of their unwashed bodies though, constantly reminded him was Russia really was like. 3

The voice of Lenin declared Mother Russia as a paradise, created by communism. The crowd believed every word of it. Unthinking. But those standing by the podium knew better. Soldiers who had fought the royalists. Soldiers that had been promised glory, standing at the peak of society as heroes, after their ‘assured’ victory. Instead they never got what they had promised. Instead they had to trawl through the death of villages, towns and even cities, often being the cause of it. Children crying out for help from the rotten corners of devastated buildings had to be ignored, had to be forgotten, for a better future. For this hollow future.4

The officials, however, were aware of the lies in a different way. Whilst soldiers fought for lies, officials created them, manipulated them, exploited them and profited from them. A cry for mercy from an old farmer having his land wrenched from him, the moans of despair floating from the slums, the moans of those forced to crime were simply notes in a requiem that generated unimaginable wealth, at least for those who composed it.5

It all sickened Dimitri. This was not the Russia that he had fought for. It was exactly the same as the one that he had though destroyed. The only difference was that these dictators lied. About themselves, claiming everyone was equal. At least the Tsar had been honest about his tyranny. This however was still a celebration, however hollow it may be. The royals dead, the royalists scattered and the communists in power. Dimitri clapped as the crowd cheered. There was no point in getting killed now. Russia’s new leaders were suspicious of anyone who stood out. Suspicious of those who still remembered what it was like before.6

The gentle snow fell on the Red Square, oblivious to the blood that stained it.7

The crowd it fell on cheered blind to the lies they were cheering for.8

Soldiers stared at the cheering crowd, their eyes aglow, seeing nothing but blood and fire.9

The officials leered at the crowd and the soldiers, wondering how to use them next.10

Dimitri Kolovkov stood by the podium warming his hands and stared up at the snow, waiting for another day, hoping or a better future.11