the pavement was red with blood and you covld taste the iron in the air. the sky was brown and the gvnfire in the distance almost sovnded like fireworks. the rancor and screams of war were mvsic to his ears. he was in ecstasy watching it all unfold, commanding it all from his castle in the sky. hovrs passed until it all cleared and he was walking throvgh it all observing his victory…no, his trivmph. he marched over friend and foe alike in his black boots. all arovnd him was rvin and death, smoldering bvildings and air almost too thick with gvnpowder to even breath. he had never felt more at home. a wide smile crept across his face. he covldn’t help it, it jvst happened. he made his way to his soldier’s barracks. as he stood before them, ready to address the sea of palid faces in black, he inhaled deeply. this was worth fighting for, he thovght. then it all retvrned to black.

his smile had left him by the time he had woken up. he looked at the clock by his phone. 12:30. time to get up, he thought. morning coffee in hand he opened the fridge to search for his breakfast. there wasn’t much. nothing that looked good anyway, so he settled for two slices of leftover pizza that he took back to his room.

his room was minimal and bare. a fan. a dresser. a clock. a bed in the corner and a desktop opposite it. the only decor in the room was a wide and looming black flag with a white cross pinned to the wall. the room was spacious enough to hold much more but living in one corner had made it seem small to him.

the desktop started up as he ate his breakfast. by the time he was finished, it was fully loaded. he cracked his knuckles, time to get to work, he thought. he started by checking up on the tweets he had made last night. he had posted a few redpills on racial iq differences so he wanted to check the response. dead, as usual, he thought. he had expected this. truth and knowledge weren’t appreciated on twitter. it was a juvenile website, good for making normies upset, but not much else.

next he opened /pol/. this was one of his favorite place to browse. he opened the catalog and started looking for worthwhile threads. he found one in no time. “GERMANS ARE SUBHUMAN” he chuckled to himself, as it was probably true. the thread replies were even funnier than the title.

>I wonder who could be behind this post?



>Slide thread. SAGED

>OP is gay

he was laughing so hard that he was red in the face by the time he got to the bottom of the thread. he left a reply. “Happy Hanukkah OP.” yep, still got it, he thought.

browsing funny threads and laughing was great; he enjoyed it. but the main reason he went on /pol/ was to debate and exchange ideas. this was why he loved the website so much, it was great for that. /pol/ had only gotten better with age, like a fine wine. every day he got into more arguments than he could count, all the while dropping casual redpills for observers to stumble across. not something he could do on twitter where he was constantly under threat of being banned or reported by traitors to the movement.

zog agents were everywhere on that odious hell of a website. he knew they were zog agents because they didn’t accept him. this wasn’t ego; it was simply a matter of fact. his desktop was filled with infographs and statistics, all backed by facts. but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much effort he put in, the drooling chimps there simply wouldn’t listen. without fail, his debates would always end with him either being blocked or being subverted. he hated the latter most of all. one minute he would be posting everything he knew about jewish trickery. the next, hordes of lecherous fools would be making fun of him! at first it drove him into a fury, but as time went on he accepted that most of his enemies simply did not wish to wake up. they would likely remain in the cave forever.

this was why he believed most people are sheep, and why the movement needed a strong and central authority. a charismatic leader to follow, a lot like hitler. probably me, he thought. in school he had always been a natural leader. in group projects everyone would turn to him for help. he enjoyed it, remembering fondly how he felt when his intellectual superiority was unquestioned. but those days were long past. anyone he knew from school who might have looked up to him now hated him. they hated him because they couldn’t understand him, of course. their thick monkey skulls just couldn’t comprehend his ideas and beliefs, so they stayed asleep. fools, he thought, one day yov’ll see!

he often found himself thinking about what he would do once the ethnostate became a reality. his mind went to dark places when he pondered it, but it was his duty to plan ahead. he didn’t feel shame for thinking about his people. of course he fantasized about murdering all the inferior races; who wouldn’t? once you’re woken up you can never go back to sleep, and you can’t pretend to be “normal.”

time passed fairly quickly. it felt like it had barely been an hour by the time his mother came home. when she came into his room to deliver his food he thanked her bluntly. they had never been very close, and he had no desire to change that. she wovldn’t understand me anyway, he thought. her arrival at home was always a good sign, as it coincided well with his favorite show, “FASH NATION,” being live streamed.

he logged onto youtube and clicked on the video. they were already live so he didn’t have to wait, though he never minded the delay. it gave him more time to converse with people in the chat. this was where all his brothers were. “Theburntjew,” “Awakenedgoy,” “Bladerunner1488.” they all made it. even though he had never met any of them or even knew their names, he felt closer to them than to anyone he had ever known. they understood him. they were like him. and that’s what it was all about.

the stream was oddly popular that night, with just over 50 viewers. strange for a tvesday, he thought, or is it wednesday? he spent the next two hours listening to the show and talking to his friends. that night they covered christianity, a topic he was well versed in. as a youth his mother had always forced him to go to sunday service. the older he got, the more he resented it until he was old enough to stop going. later, when he awoke, he learned about how harmful christians were to his people. “if our people are to survive, we need to eradicate christcucks from the movement” said Theburntjew. “strength and sacrifice to ancestors > desert jew cuckery,” said Bladerunner1488. he agreed.

once the stream ended he stayed in the chatroom for a few more minutes, conversing with his friends until they had all logged off. only he remained, and even though he knew that they’d all be back tomorrow, he couldn’t shake the sudden feeling of loneliness that had come over him. he closed the window and looked at the clock. 10:15. late nights weren’t fun for him. he was often just keeping busy until his eyes started to sag and he could close the desktop and go to sleep. it never came fast enough.

by midnight he felt it. the grogginess that came from watching multiple tv episodes in succession had caught up to him and it was time to rest. laying in darkness with only his thoughts, his mind began to drift off to the usual places; the ethnostate, race war, the (((enemy))), and how his people were being erased. these were things he was willing to throw his life away for. my life, he thought as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.