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The Divide

The Divide

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The Divide

5/5 (7 Bewertungen)
102 Seiten
2 Stunden
Jul 15, 2020


The state of Donia has been living under war, poverty, and oppression for too long. When President Heran and her daughter look upon the ruins of the capital city, Thena, they decide that the only option is to rid their world of male domination and reclaim female power, and in turn, bring about a new form of oppression altogether. In a society where those who are not wealthy, independent women are named “the Others” and romantic relationships are no longer encouraged, rebellion is bound to take place. Can love win in a city built by hatred?

Jul 15, 2020

Über den Autor

Rachel Bowdler is a freelance writer, editor, and sometimes photographer from the UK. She spends most of her time away with the faeries. When she is not putting off writing by scrolling through Twitter and binge-watching sitcoms, you can find her walking her dog, painting, and passionately crying about her favourite fictional characters. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @rach_bowdler.

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  • If kindness was a way of rebellion, she was happy to give it; to rebel, for the boy who needed it.


The Divide - Rachel Bowdler

Part 1: Woman’s World

A thick blanket of ash covered the ground beneath Elizabeth’s feet as she stepped out of the military vehicle. She inhaled sharply, trying not to choke on the dust and lingering smoke. It went on for miles. The whole city was covered in it, reduced to nothing but rubble and shattered glass so that she could no longer distinguish where the roads ended and the pathways began.

She could just make out the old penthouse apartment block where her friends had lived, its now empty-framed windows splitting apart the violent orange light of the setting sun. The walls were black and crumbling where they had once been pristine white stone, the pillars collapsed and the roof caved in. Around the corner would be the home she had grown up in, if any of it was left. She wasn’t ready to find out just yet.

Alarik Tykhe stood in the center of it all, a thin shadow dressed in black with shockingly white hair that was bright against the scarred landscape. It reminded Elizabeth of looking at an old black-and-white photograph until he disrupted the stillness by turning around, hands in his pockets and shoulders taut. He was only nineteen, and yet he looked more like his father as he stood tall, lips pressed into a thin line. The only thing that felt at all familiar to Elizabeth about him was the glitter in his blue eyes as he noticed her approaching.

Her mother’s watchful eye felt like a weight upon her as she followed her out of the van, high heels burying themselves into the softened concrete, chin held high despite the defeat surrounding her. Her workers watched with concerned interest: the first time that President Heran took in her destroyed capital city. If it made her feel anything other than vague discomfort, she did not show it.

This is the worst of it, Alarik muttered by way of greeting, eyes roaming the ruins before they landed back on Elizabeth and Victoria. The bomb went off just around the corner. I am sorry, President Heran.

Her mother was a cold presence beside her, her stony eyes unwavering and emotionless even in the remnants of a bloody and devastating war. Elizabeth envied her resolve, tried to imitate it as she straightened her back so that Alarik did not feel like such a looming frame above her, though it had never mattered before.

How many fatalities? the president asked.

Too many, he replied. Too many to count just yet.

Victoria nodded, and Elizabeth could tell that she was weighing her options as she looked around again. Her skin was pale, even in the light of the setting sun, her hair graying and tucked into a tight low bun. Where is your father?

Injured, ma’am, Alarik answered, and Elizabeth could see the strain it caused him to maintain a neutral expression. I am to take his place until he recovers.

His words did not touch her. Then I will ask you: where do you suggest we go from here, Mr. Tykhe?

Alarik inhaled sharply, his eyes flitting from Victoria to Elizabeth for only a moment. The two of them — Elizabeth and Alarik — had spoken about this before, about how they would shape the world differently if they could. Only he knew as well as Elizabeth that their ideas would not please the president, and she did not hear any of the ones he had once spoken of proudly proposed now. The war is over. It is up to us to rebuild our city and state, to restore our people’s faith.

No, Victoria responded flatly.

Alarik was taken aback, his brows knitting together. No?

There is no use in going back to the way things were. Elizabeth? She turned to Elizabeth, much to her surprise, her hands crossed below her torso expectantly.

Elizabeth hesitated, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Yes?

This is to be your state one day soon, she said, her eyes burning into her daughter’s. Her face was sharp, though lined with wrinkles from a life spent working beneath the weight of the world, or, at least, the country; a weight that would soon be transferred to Elizabeth’s hands. By the time we have rebuilt Thena, it will fall to you to decide how it is run. It is no longer only my decision to make. What do you suggest?

Elizabeth paused and swallowed, a bead of sweat trickling from her hairline as the heat from the sinking sun clung to her skin, suffocating. She could feel the ash coating her throat, smell the burnt remains of the place she had lived in for most of her life. A military tank rolled around the corner, the men standing atop it wearing shades of green khaki that made her feel sick to her stomach. Large machine guns protruded from under their arms, though they were no longer necessary. It was not the weapons she was most afraid of, though: her mother’s scrutiny was more terrifying than any of it. She knew what it was her mother wished to hear. Victoria would never have asked otherwise. There was only one answer that she had ever been taught to give, and they had been waiting for the right opportunity to give it for years. Everything her mother had taught her had led to this, now. She would not disappoint her.

We have tried living in this man’s world for long enough. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt, owing to years of practice, and she avoided looking at Alarik as she continued. Look at where it has brought us. It is time that things changed.

What is it you are suggesting? Despite her question, the corner of Victoria’s mouth had curled upward in pride.

"This will no longer be a state ruled by the same patriarchal values that have led us into war and poverty, death and destruction, for centuries. Today, we will reclaim that power. If men wish to fight, they may do it somewhere else. If men wish to oppress, they may feel what it is to be subservient. This is Donia, and this state belongs to us now. Everything that is rebuilt will be rebuilt according to us — to me.

Men will no longer bend and break laws without consequence. Our laws will be final, and those who do not follow them will be severely punished. Violence stemming from masculinity will not be tolerated, whether it is directed toward females or other males. Men will no longer have access to political or societal power. Only when they have earned our respect by serving our country will they be allowed to live amongst us as equals. They will no longer speak over us, nor will they do any more harm to our beloved country with their desire for domination and brutality.

She took a breath, letting Alarik and her mother soak in her words.

Today, we become a woman’s world.

Elizabeth locked her hands behind her back as she surveyed the city below her. The citadel had been one of the only buildings to remain standing after the explosion, and her mother had made the choice to move into it. It did not feel like home. Standing high on a plane of cobbles and supported by pristine white pillars, it made Elizabeth feel more like a princess trapped in a tower than a future president supposed to empower women.

Thena was still gray and dead, void of any life even on the outskirts. The forest had stopped burning only a few days before they had arrived, and all that was left of it was a black scar beneath the sharp mountains cutting into the cloudy sky.

The echo of footsteps pulled her from her daze. Behind her stood Alarik, his thick brows furrowed as he reached her. He hadn’t looked at her properly since they had stood in the charred heart of Thena. Before that, they had been close friends, their lives planned to be spent together by her mother. He was the perfect candidate for a president’s husband, their marriage having been planned since Elizabeth

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  • (4/5)
    Awesome novel. I love it. You can join in NovelStar writing contest with a theme "WEREWOLVES" Prices are amazing! (PC) or email any of the following editors;