The fiery Fall of the Poliarsonists

When politics becomes arson and self-immolation

Guest Blog by Aurora Quill, contributing editor to History’s Parrot

It began as a flicker—a small flame of ambition that captured the hearts of a weary populace. The poliarsonists swept into power like a wildfire, promising to torch the old systems and light the way to a brighter tomorrow. Crowds cheered as outdated institutions crumbled under the fiery rhetoric. "Destruction is the prelude to creation," they proclaimed, holding a match in one hand and a manifesto in the other.

But flames, as they say, are fickle.

At first, the poliarsonists seemed unstoppable. Their policies, though erratic, had an undeniable flair: replacing dull infrastructure with "symbolic bonfires" and instituting a weekly "Pyrocratic Day of Reflection," during which citizens were encouraged to burn one outdated personal belonging or belief (old socks were especially popular).

Yet, as their reign burned on, cracks began to show. The people, who once marveled at their incendiary brilliance, began to wonder if there was more smoke than substance. For every institution reduced to ash, no new structure was built. For every promise ignited, only smoldering disappointment remained.

The beginning of the end came during their infamous "Cleansing the Calendar" decree, in which they attempted to eliminate Mondays entirely. While initially met with applause, the logistical chaos of a six-day week—and the utter confusion of businesses and schools—soon turned public opinion. "Not all destruction is visionary!" cried one disgruntled citizen as he tried to figure out how to schedule his dentist appointment.

In a desperate attempt to regain favor, the poliarsonists held a massive rally, complete with fireworks and flamethrowers. But even their most ardent supporters couldn’t ignore the growing inferno of incompetence. Their fiery charm had finally burned out.

The final act of their reign was both literal and symbolic. Standing atop the smoldering remains of the nation’s parliament, the poliarsonists declared, "This is not the end—it is merely the ember of a new beginning!" Moments later, a gust of wind swept through, extinguishing their final spark.

And so, the poliarsonists fell—not with a bang, but with a faint puff of smoke. Their legacy? A nation left to rebuild, a citizenry left to reconsider the merits of unbridled chaos, and a new saying: "Sometimes, it's better to light a candle than to burn the whole house down."

Aurora Quill is a writer and journalist living on the Peace River in northern British Columbia where she is a farmer and rancher. She spends her winters in either Mexico or Thailand where she focuses on her writing.

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