To Kill a Tsar

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24 Hours Earlier… Elena Svetlana was sitting down in a dim room, in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, but the small fire kept helped some. She had been writing for hours, yet her story hadn’t been fully told yet. …I couldn’t erase the wretched feeling inside of me. I miss my dear brother so much. As I closed my eyes I could see him, blood oozing out of his chest, his glazed over eyes looking right at me. Even now my chest shudders as I oh-so-desperately try not too cry. Those Kronstadt sailors have fought bravely, but it hasn’t kept my brother alive. Oh mama, oh papa, if only you were here to comfort me. I couldn’t, can’t fight the hunger for revenge. Lenin has taken too much, and left me here with nothing… Elena stopped writing. She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the corners of her eyes. Depressing images emerged in her mind completely breaking her shell. She thought of her parents, who died in the famine in 1920 during the War Communism. She thought of her brother, who died in her arms during the Kronstadt rising just a few months after in March 1921. She thought of dying, as it might be the only way to reunite with her beloved ones. “No”, she thought to herself, “I will not die in vain”. She took her pen and started writing again. …If you see this, then I am probably dead. But I will fulfill my thirst for Lenin’s blood before they can ever kill me. Let my action be the first move in ending this dejected ideologies Lenin forced upon us. Mama, Papa, Nikolai, this is for you. She closed her diary and took her small rucksack. She had packed half loaf of bread, one shirt to change into, small amount of money left, some matches to make fire, and a dagger. She set aside a space for her diary, closed her rucksack, put the necklace with the photo of her family in the locket on her neck and put the loaded gun in the pocket of her coat. The supplies

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