Realm of Possibility

What I came up with when considering what might happen if religious extremists secured the reins of power on a global scale.

A flash fiction piece written posted - Jan 2, 2012
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Elder Jacob Bean closed the banned copy of the Scripture.  He understood why the second book had been outlawed during the Troubles.  Harsh times called for harsh measures.  The clearly defined rules found in the first book were perfect in their simplicity and dovetailed well with the brutal measures taken to fulfill the Great Elder’s prophecy of the Final Reformation.  He could not understand though why owning such an innocuous collection of harmless fables was still on the list of capital offenses.  Would not a good caning suffice?

Rules were rules. Shortly Elder Bean forgot about it.  He was only as inquisitive as he needed to be to render a verdict.  Without new rules, his only choice was to convict.  It was a shame they had no females of breeding age.  At least they would have been spared.  Elder Bean shrugged.  The family of three would have to die. 

“Jarrad get in here.”

No response.  Servo-tech Jarrad was not at his desk.  Elder Bean got up and walked out to the anteroom outside his office just as Servo-tech Jarrad came careening down the hall.   “Deep Apologies Elder Jacob, …….call of nature.” 

Elder Jacob Bean’s cold eyes studied his assistant for a moment.  “I understand simple Jarrad.  Even eunuchs have to urinate.”  His eyes softened and what might be construed a hint of a smile whisked across his face and was gone.  He handed Jarrad a bulky envelope.  “Please forward this to the Council of Elders ASAP.  I have rendered my decision.”

“Yes, right away your Holiness.”

~*~

The Final Reformation was in full swing by 2075.  The Troubles that had started in earnest around 2024, ripped and tore through Humanity for fifty years.  The planet’s population had at first tried to discuss their differences.  Unforeseen political and military alliances were formed.  Regional confrontations escalated into planet wide scorched earth campaigns.   War, starvation, disease, and mass suicides took their toll.  By 2035 less than two billion souls still walked the Earth.  Religious zealots took control over two thirds of the planet.  The Pan Asians controlled the rest.

The Age of the Three Kingdoms had begun.

~*~

Scurrying servo-techs connected last minute wiring to the feed going out planet wide.  They applied last minute make up to aging Elder faces and fussed over positioning of the altar in the Elder Well.   The Two prayer benches upon which the Witnesses sat had been scrubbed and polished.  Three stainless steel crosses with braided wire restraints formed a semicircle around the altar in front of a larger Cross upon which hung the current facsimile of what Christ looked like now.  He sported a stern face now days and fierce eyes.  His arms were spread open as if welcoming all who ventured into the Elder Well, but it was his razor sharp hands that told the truth of what went on here.  The Elder Well was designed for one purpose – to instill fear.  Fear kept the Elders in power.  Only the pious walked out of the Well alive.

Christ had finally transitioned from being the son of God and was now God’s Avenger. 

Elder William Graham ll sat and fidgeted in front of his mirror.  Tonight would be his first chance at the Bloody Pulpit.  He worried every detail with his hair, his robes.  He practiced his severe look.  He worried that his sweat would show through the heavy makeup.  After all, the Witnesses, comprised of the founding Elders would be watching his every move.  Sweat would be a sign of weakness in his faith.  A servo-tech with a clip board touched his shoulder.  “Five minutes Elder William.”

“Are all the sacred devices in place?”

“Yes Your Holiness.”

“Well then, let’s break a leg.”

The servo-tech counted the last few seconds before the night’s festivities began.  “9….8….7….6…..”, and then with his right hand he silently finished at 3 and …………… an off camera tech with a calm mellow, made for prime time voice began,

“Welcome good Christians of the Realm.  The night’s Sacrifice is brought to you for the first time from the newly constructed and righteously blessed Harold Camping Studios here in New Holywood.  Elder William Graham ll will perform God’s Will as Heaven’s Apprentice and will be witnessed by twelve of our most revered founding Elders.

Tonight’s unfortunates are a family of three from Oxnard.   Caught with a copy of the New Testament, the mother refused to acknowledge her sin and plead for mercy.  Their fate was sealed when her husband tried to run with her and their son of six.  So tonight for your viewing pleasure, …….tonight we have a three-fer.

Ladies and gentlemen let the festivities begin……………”

~*~

Mullah Saluman Kaleri sat 6000 miles away watching the feed from the Realm.  Others in his mosque considered the monthly sacrifices broadcast over the Net nothing but more foolishness from the Realm of God.  He knew better.  There was more to their monthly blood letting than just reinforcing the fear of God to maintain control over their heathen majority.  They wanted a new crusade.  What they did today, tomorrow, next year was all aimed at defeating Islam.   The sacrifices were a promise of sorts should the Infidels successfully overrun the Kingdom Of Allah.    He knew this because it would be what he would do to them.

The Mullah watched the various players take their places in the Elder Well.  He watched each “lamb” being led or dragged in by two ornately masked assistants who shackled them each to their respective crosses.  He watched the Acolyte solemnly lay out the cloth which held the devices of the Sacrament and then stand at attention to the right.  “Ah”, he thought. ”Tonight the new guy has chosen blades to purge their sins.”  Mullah smiled and settled back to watch.

The music swelled.  The house lights dimmed.  The audience grew quiet.  Suddenly spots lit up Jesus.  Fire and sparks shot out of his eyes.  Heaven’s Apprentice began his slow march to the pulpit. Adorned in a simple red and green striped robe tied crudely with a knotted piece of hemp rope he gave the appearance of a god fearing man until he looked at the camera.  At once he became a figure to fear.  William Graham acting as Heaven’s Apprentice  had nailed the look.  There was an audible gasp heard as the audience moved forward on their seats.  This was a man to fear.

What followed was a well rehearsed sermon of the evils of allowing unclean thought to sully the mind of the faithful.  Mullah Salumen Kaleri lost interest and turned the sound down.  With one eye on the feed, he poured himself some tea and was just raising it to his lips when the first cut was made.  Mullah turned the sound back up and settled in.  “This guy knows how to do it.”  He took a sip of tea.

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Originally posted in 'Lost in the BoZone" on 1/2/12

Idiosyncrasies - 360 words

Angry Hourglass  - 360 words
Photo Prompt courtesy of Ashwin Rao

I have endeavored to behave myself these many years though Temptation lurked around every bend.  Maybe knowing my heart was always in the right place when my actions were not will soften your harsh judgment.   I did try to follow the true path.  

My parents tried to do right by me.  They even relocated to this game flush environment to teach me how to hunt, what to hunt, and when to hunt.  But from my earliest recollection, I favored the game more wary rather than the awkward clueless creatures my kind favored.  It never seemed a fair contest, culling from such oblivious herd animals.  The challenge was what I lived for, not the guaranteed meat in every pot our kind had settled on.

Mom promised my idiosyncrasies would pass when I became an adult.  Just growing pains she said.  She was wrong.  I was in my 30's when I stopped resisting and embraced my urges.  I decided I was but existing for existence’s sake.  Taking up space, living a treadmill life.  There was no challenge in living.  So, I separated from the clan and went my own way.

Word got around.  I became a pariah no longer welcome at the tables of the many clans scattered hither and yon.   I did not mind.  Listening to them justify their slovenly lifestyle by invoking entitlement and superiority made me want to gag.  Besides, by that time, I had lost my taste for domestic animals.  Sustenance was not just a full belly, I needed to feed my soul as well.

I left behind the comfortable space my kind had created for themselves.  And for the first time in my life, I found comfort in being uncomfortable.  I embraced the uncertainty of where my next meal might come from.  I was finally outside the box and I loved it.

I would love to stay and chat, but I am hungry and a nice couple in a RV has just taken up residence near my edge of the woods.  And Look.  They have a dog.  A big Pitbull.

If they let him loose, looks like dinner is served.  But I will have to earn it.
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The Deplorable Double Wide - 99 Words

Flash Fiction site, "Carrot Ranch Communications" does a weekly 99 word challenge.  This week's challenge (11/9/16) is "write a story that pivots around an unexpected ending".  

In lieu of watching the news, commenting on the news, and hating the news, I figured to give it a go.  Anything to take my mind off the nightmares that will haunt me for at least the next 4 years.

My effort this week:

The Deplorable Double Wide

Roscoe opened his eyes.  Disoriented, he took stock of his surroundings.  He was seated at a wooden table in the kitchen of a deplorable double wide.  

Where he was now was not the location of his last waking moment.  He was sure it was tipping shots and slapping backs with his Wall Street buds in lower Manhattan.  On the big screen, their guy was kicking ass. 

“Uh, Where am I?”

A pudgy hand with no wrist dropped a plate of Spam and eggs in front of him.

“Home, you dumass.  You got shitfaced last night cuz your man won.”

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There you have it.  

Keep it 'tween the ditches

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*Cross posted at Lost in the BoZone 

Jack Top - #2 - Say Goodbye

"Say Goodbye" - 250words
(from the defunct site, Flash Fiction Friday - Starter sentence - "What do you see when you close your eyes?")

"What do you see when you close your eyes".

Zip was not even thinking about closing his eyes. Not with that knife in Jack Top’s hand pressed so hard an inch or two under his left ear.  Jack Top grabbed his hair and roughly tilted his head back. "I said, what do you see when you close your eyes?"

Zip knelt whimpering and losing control of his bladder. He looked up into Jack Top's eyes.  He had always been slow on the uptake. It took him a second, but he closed his eyes. Some seconds later they fluttered open. "Uh, nothing Jack. Don’t see a thing. Black I guess. Why?" Piss began to soak through his pants and into the carpet.

Jack Top closed his eyes. His free hand gripped Zip’s hair so hard he could feel some of it coming loose at the roots. “I tell you what Zip. When I close my eyes, I see red. Beautiful red everywhere. Nothin but red.” Jack Top then sliced the poor bastard's throat open from ear to ear.

Jack stood staring down at the wet red gash he had created under Zip’s chin. He watched the gushing blood drain the life out of his eyes. A look of serenity and calm came over J T’s face. He sighed and closed his eyes again. His knife fell to the floor.

Rivet Head whispered, “If he ever asks me that, what do I say?”

Axel looked at him and said, “You say goodbye.”
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Jack Top #1 - "A Cicatricial Reminder" - 100 Words

I was sure I had purged my belly full of anger a few weeks ago.  Apparently not.

I decided to once again try my hand at some Flash Fiction when I found a blog run by an old Flash Fiction friend that offered up a weekly 100 word challenge based on the prompts she came up with.

I also decided that writing an upbeat happy 100 words would put me in just the right mood to walk down to the Town Hall and step into a voting booth.

Try as I might, I could not fashion anything warm and fuzzy, wry or humorous.  All I had floating around inside the cranial void were serious negative waves dude.

I was actually surprised.  I thought that some of my recent rants, posted and unposted , would have set me straight.

So my re-entry into Flash Fiction is dark, ........ yeah, not a pleasant tale.

Be forewarned and remember it is only a story.

The Body Snatchers Re-visited

Forward - Disclaimer - Whatever

This is the first fiction I have written since I last posted at the now defunct Thinking Ten well over a year ago.  Figures I would pick "Capstone Sunday" to give it another whirl.  The Idea is to take the offered daily prompt and write for ten minutes.  Stop and then read what you have written.  Spit and polish it up and then submit..  Sunday's prompt is to use every prompt from the previous week.    I was maybe 200 words into the rough first draft when 10 minutes was up.  Decided to finish the thought no matter where or how long it took me.  Took me awhile.  All day, off and on, I guess.

So without further comment - 

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"I can do it myself", Jackson hollered back at his wife of 45 years as he climbed up and into the bed of his 1976 GMC pick up.  Last night's snow storm had finally filled the back of it.  Jackson's rule was never shovel more than he  had to.  He always waited until Winter had filled the bed before he took care of it.  

Squinting against the bright sun, he cussed and fumed every shovel full over the side.  His old fart back complained with every scoop.  And this last storm had turned the snow into igloo snow.  Heavy and packed, he had to add chopping it up first to the already painful scoop and toss motion.  

He stopped a moment and looked down Sam Page Road.  Someone was headed up the hill.  Looked like one them damn Gallopin Gerrishes walking their dog again.  Local custom dictated he wave to whomever passes by.  He waved and went back to shoveling not concerned to know if they waved back.  He had been civil.  That's all anyone could expect.

Waking Up Dead

George was fairly certain he was dead now.  The last time his eyes were open, they were looking down an empty subway tunnel under lower Manhattan.  George was a track checker and close to retirement.  It was his last full week at work and as he had done for 35 years previously, he trudged his section of tunnel looking for problems on the line, around the line, down the line.

Now George noticed he was walking on a dirt road.  The Sun was up high like it was one side of noon or the other.  Trees swayed slightly under a kind and gentle breeze.  Outside woodsy smells assaulted his nostril replacing the stench of the subway he had huffed 5 days a week for the last too many years.  He had a walking stick in his hand and he no longer limped.