Share
MidReal Story
Liberty's Call: Venezuela's Fight for Democracy
Scenario:Nicolás Maduro el presidente defacto de Venezuela, luego de juramentarse ilegítimamente causa manifestaciones violentas en el pais, las cuales terminan en una guerra civil por la libertar y la democracia de Venezuela
Create my version of this story
Elena Vasquez
medic in the resistance, friends with Ana and Carlos, curly brown hair, compassionate and brave
Carlos Ramirez
strategist for the resistance, friends with Ana and Elena, tall with glasses, intelligent and cautious
Ana Moreno
leader of the resistance, friends with Carlos and Elena, short black hair, determined and resourceful
January 10th, 2019
Caracas, Venezuela
The day has finally come.
After years of fighting for a change in our government, we’re ready to take a stand.
Maduro swore himself in as president after a fake election, and we won’t stand for it.
Today, he’s doing the inauguration, and we’re going to make sure everyone knows we don’t accept him as our president.
We’re meeting at Plaza Altamira.
From there, who knows what will happen.
The plan is to march to the National Assembly, but with the National Guard on their side, we might not get that far.
I look around my small apartment and grab the first aid kit.
It’s something I always carry with me now after all the protests I’ve been to.
I roll my backpack and stuff some water bottles in along with two granola bars and a piece of fruit.
I slip my arms through the straps and head out the door.
As I walk toward the main road, I see Carlos waiting by the corner.
He’s taller than most and thinner with black glasses perched on the end of his nose.
He looks down at his watch before lifting his head to see me approaching.
"Ready?"
I grasped Carlos's arm, and together we plunged into the sea of protesters, our feet carrying us forward with a sense of purpose.
The air was alive with the hum of chanting voices, the words "¡No a Maduro!" and "¡Democracia sí!" echoing off the buildings that lined the streets.
As we navigated through the crowd, I caught glimpses of determined faces, some with tears streaming down their cheeks, others with fists raised in defiance.
The smell of sweat and smoke hung heavy over us, mingling with the acrid tang of tear gas that lingered on the breeze.
We pushed forward, our elbows locked, as we made our way toward Plaza Altamira.
The sound of sirens grew louder, and I could feel the tension building in my chest.
Suddenly, a shout went up from the front of the crowd, and people began to surge forward.
I stumbled, my foot catching on a loose paving stone, but Carlos's grip on my arm kept me upright.
We were swept up in the tide of humanity, carried along by the sheer force of the crowd's momentum.
As we approached the plaza, I spotted Elena waving us over to a makeshift medical station set up near the edge of the square.
Her expression was grave, her eyes locked on mine as she handed me a radio.
"Stay in touch," she instructed, her voice low and urgent, her gaze flicking to Carlos before returning to mine.
We nodded, understanding the gravity of our mission.
With a deep breath, we stepped into the throng, ready to lead.
The radio crackled in my hand as Elena's voice came through, her words lost in the din of the crowd.
I raised it to my ear, straining to hear above the cacophony of sounds.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the square, followed by a chorus of screams and shouts.
The world around us erupted into chaos, and there was no turning back.
I coughed, my lungs burning from the tear gas, as Elena pulled me deeper into the alleyway.
The sounds of chaos receded slightly, replaced by the echoes of our own ragged breathing and the scrape of our footsteps on the pavement.
I clutched the radio to my chest, my heart racing with every crackle and hiss that came through.
Carlos's voice was a lifeline, a thread of calm in the midst of the storm.
"Ana, we need to regroup," he repeated, his words fragmented by static.
I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see me.
Elena's grip on my arm tightened as she propelled me forward, her eyes scanning the alleyway for any signs of danger.
The walls seemed to close in around us, the shadows cast by the flickering streetlights twisting into sinister shapes.
I stumbled, my foot catching on a discarded trash can, and Elena's hand shot out to steady me.
We paused for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of the riot unfolding outside.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.
The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and sweat, acrid and pungent.
I covered my mouth with my shirt, trying to filter out the worst of it.
Elena tugged me onward, her eyes locked on some point ahead.
We burst out of the alleyway, into a scene of utter chaos.
Cars were overturned, their windows shattered, and flames licked at the edges of buildings.
People ran in every direction, screaming and shouting, as the National Guard advanced on us with riot shields and batons.
I raised the radio to my ear once more, Carlos's voice crackling through.
"Ana, we—"