of nurture’s wildness - a novella (ch. 5)

by Tom Stuckey

V

The city had changed a lot since the war of 2035, or The Great Re-Patriarchy (TGR) as the Bruv Party liked to call it, and themselves now. In fact most of Europe had changed and was at war amongst itself. All sides claiming to be the solution to the problems, both seeing the apparent ‘Islamification of Europe’ as the causes, but for different reasons. The hate drummed up on social media platforms had given rise to many extreme factions (left and right) but all of which had the same motivation; win at all costs. The TGR was the only one however to have been endorsed by the USA as its official overseer of Europe, and like a long line of dominos it fell all the way to Europe. Rising up in Romania, and with its backing from the US, taking over a few other countries before making its impressions on mainland Europe. It had finally flared up from a concoction of factors that favoured the anti-matriarchal party, and allowed them to incite their new (patriarchal) approach to life. The matriarchal was seen as the left and trying to gain harmony by relaxed means, and the patriarchal the hard lined, and blamer of the ‘weak’ for the problems, which there were always so many. The young had long been disillusioned since the introduction of social media, they followed personalities and not principles, they wanted good orators who made them feel something—mostly anger and disgust, they did not want to look into things for themselves, instead they wanted strong characters (on either sides) to do it for them, whilst claiming ignorantly to be a part of the ‘right side’, and taking action. It was controlling mum, shouting at reactive dad, and him hitting the boy, and in turn, the boy pulling the dogs tail.

Gloria was a part of the majority, the ones who did not like or get involved in politics, however, the passive no longer had a place left in the world, and it showed. She was a peaceful soul, who did not hate anyone, she remarked that this made her stand alone in the current state of affairs, and that sometimes she felt lost and scared. Maybe more scared in today’s world than in yesterday’s, and there was certainly a fear now that was close by at all times, especially being a woman. It seemed like people were letting their repressions out, in a very violent manor, and this always flowed down to the more venerable members of society, and was a good reminder that, if allowed to, we would certainly return ourselves back to the animal kingdom.

The place she had to go to drop off the forms was in the old city hall. There was still a lot of military presence on the streets, but it was difficult to tell soldier from civilian, as the armies uniform was not entirely clear. The streets had less homeless people on them, they had long fled to the suburbs, or even out into the country, for fear of the army, who now beat them on site if they were found in the city. It all seemed a bit tacky and run down, like it had been forced back in time.

Along the corridors of city hall all the old and new paintings had been removed and had been replaced by the party’s colours—YELLOW/BLACK flags and banners all which had the party’s insignia, the double headed axe. Before getting into power, long before the war, the rising party had parodied at the Nazi’s way of doing things but it ironically got a positive response with its shock value tactics.

Standing outside room 102 Gloria took a deep breath, as these things were irregular and somewhat unpredictable under the new regime. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a woman that looked more like a caricature of a porn receptionist, who was going to be fucked by her boss in between dictations and pencil sharpenings . She led the way into the large room where the boss sat behind an oversized table, with the double-headed axe behind him on the wall. He wore suit trousers with a sports shirt and trainers, and looked like a villain from a Bond film set in Soviet Russia. He took a pull at his cigar. “Sit, sit, I’m Gregor. What is your name and purpose of visit today? I don’t have it here in front of me.” With this he looked at his receptionist who apologised and backed out of the room. “My name is Gloria and I run the Institution of Assisted Living and Dying, up in the mountains. I was informed that I was to come here in person to sign some papers and arrange payments to you for “party axe”. This being the new form of tax, another quite genius spin on things by its leader. “Ah, yes, I have heard about your facility, things are running smoother no doubt, now we have freed things up for you?” He smiled a gamblers smile. “Actually, yes, it has been easier for us to conduct our practises, but there are a few…” Gregor cut in, “That is good to hear, you know you have a nickname here at the headquarters, it’s the Angel of Death, we reckon that you will kill more than we ever did, but I didn’t realise you were so pretty. Maybe we will pay a visit one day to see how things are run up there. Anyway you have brought the paper work to arrange the transfer of funds to us?” Gloria thought better than to get into anything further, that it was only going to go the way that Gregor wanted it to go, so she handed the papers to him. “Gemma, come in here.” Gemma came in and collected the papers and Gregor gave her a pinch up the front of her skirt whilst looking at Gloria and smiling, saying to Gemma, “Don’t make that mistake again.”  

*Read Tom Stuckey’s next installment of Of Nurture’s Wildness on June 12, 2025, at 6PM CST.

Photo of Tom Stuckey

BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England.  His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.