Monday, March 20, 2006

The Spirit of Vladimir

I'm going to slowly move all of my entries from my old site ( to here. Here is the first "move":

The Spirit of Vladimir
Written by Shaun Connell

As Vladimir rose from his seat he surveyed the faces of all those gathered. Cold hearts, chained spirits, dead souls. That’s all he could see. He wondered if he was alone in the room, or if some kindred spirit existed elsewhere. No, he was probably the only one. No one else understood; no one else even cared.

A hush fell over the courtroom as Vladimir cleared his throat before he began to speak. Speaking in front of people. Vladimir didn’t like that. He was more of quite person, liked to keep to himself. He would have been happy if he could have just lived on his small farm, cared for his own life, living in oblivion of the rest of the world. No, that was not to be his fate. He was charged with treason to the State. To his knowledge, he hadn’t said nor done anything to deserve the charges. Perhaps it was just destiny. But what was to be his fate? He knew what it was. It gave him courage to have the same fate as so many before him.

He begins.

"They call me a traitor because I have fallen in love… in love with an idea. They call me a traitor, because I can see. I can see the world where the people are free. They call me traitor, because I understand. I understand that I must be willing to take a stand. They call me a traitor because I love liberty more than this government. If these things make someone a traitor, then I plead guilty to most extreme degree.

I suppose I’m alone here. I suppose there is no one here who is not of a dead soul, or who understands the meaning behind these words I speak. I suppose I’m the only one. Even so, I cannot hide what I believe. Maybe someone here, maybe someone who hears… maybe someone will hear: I love liberty. When I am found guilty of treason I have no doubt that my life will be taken by the State, or that I will be imprisoned for the remainder of it. Up until that point they may try to keep me from speaking what I know to be true, they may place me in chains, they may put me into a prison, they may do all these things, yes, but they can never take away my love of liberty. My love is my own.

Someday, I will die, but the idea that I love will not die with me. Someday no one will ever remember me, but the truth of the idea I hold in my heart will be as true and vibrant as ever. Someday everyone here will fade away, but truth will remain. I have been told by my captors that the day that I die, liberty will die also. I know that this isn’t true. Throughout the ages, throughout even this nation’s history, there have always been “traitors” to the State, and there always will be. There will always be those who love the idea that government is based upon more than the government itself. There will always be those who do not wish to be slaves, do not wish to be subjects, who just wish to be the masters of government, on an equal ground with all other men. There will always be those who love that word which has more truth in it than the State can understand, they love “liberty”. We will always live; you may try to stomp us out, but we live on, you kill us physically, individually, but we live on, you put us in chains, but we continue on, you try to stop us, but you only push us forward, hear my words: we shall be victorious! No, not this day, no, not this trial. I shall pass away, but liberty shall stand forever!

Remember this: when you meet us, the traitors, look deeply into our eyes. Look for a spark, look for life. You will not see this spark often, you only see the eyes of dead souls. We shall never die, we will haunt the tyrannical State to it’s grave, yes, to it’s grave. We will live, the State will die! Liberty lives, tyranny dies!

If anything is to be remembered of us, if any words are to be thought of when we come to mind, make it but three words. We loved liberty!”


Vladimir was found guilty, yes. He was put to death, yes. He died, yes. His body has returned to the dirt, yes. But his spirit still lives on.