• Avianna Lemonier

1984 Fanfiction

Updated: Apr 19


1984 Fanfiction by Avianna Lemonier

"When his father disappeared, his mother did not show any surprise or any violent grief, but a sudden change came over her. She seemed to have become completely spiritless. It was evident even to Winston that she was waiting for something that she knew must happen. She did everything that was needed -- cooked, washed, mended, made the bed, swept the floor, dusted the mantelpiece -- always very slowly and with a curious lack of superfluous motion, like an artist's lay-figure moving of its own accord. Her large shapely body seemed to relapse naturally into stillness. For hours at a time she would sit almost immobile on the bed, nursing his young sister, a tiny, ailing, very silent child of two or three, with a face made simian by thinness. Very occasionally she would take Winston in her arms and press him against her for a long time without saying anything. He was aware, in spite of his youthfulness and selfishness, that this was somehow connected with the never-mentioned thing that was about to happen."

- 1984, George Orwell (Part 2, Chapter 7)


Very little could have prepared her for the continuing struggle that was circulating through her willing but tired heart.

She was a living ghost.

Resigned to the inevitable and, yet, continuing to find the strength to persevere in spite of what she knew was coming.

What moved her to continue forcing the dying child by her side to eat when she knew that they would all, more than likely, not make it out alive?

What pushed her to cling to the last living strands of her motherhood as she hovered over the small child before her who seemed so unwilling to understand how their world was changing?

Love.

Love was her act of resistance.

Love was her act of rebellion against the darkness that seemed to be waiting outside their front door like a reaper of death coming to collect his debt.

She didn't know how much longer she would be able to keep that swirling pool of darkness outside from consuming their future, but she was willing to resist until resistance became futile.

But, then, it was already futile.

Yet, she couldn't keep herself from reaching out, with shaking and defiant hands, and fighting against it.