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I thought I'd toss in a fan fiction section here. Every week expect a new read. Great place to be if you're bored. This is one of my favorites I submitted for Garo's WCC: | I thought I'd toss in a fan fiction section here. Every week expect a new read. Great place to be if you're bored. This is one of my favorites I submitted for Garo's WCC: | ||
Gathered in His Name | |||
A dark storm cloud brewed over the land. Another imperfect day approached. But for the boy every day was a nightmare. They were always waiting for him, pawns of the Combine-three reckless teenagers who had transformed into agents of the party. Every single time he bought groceries they spit in his face, savagely beat him, decried his faith. They were opponents of religion. The youngster knew they would strike Father Murphy soon. | |||
The market was surprisingly empty that day at noon. Most had sought shelter from the elements. As the boy approached the vendor, the gravel cracking under his feet, three hooded figures appeared from the corner. | |||
“What’re you up to, pretty boy? Where is your messiah when you need him? There’s no hand of judgment here to strike me down!” the tallest of the three exclaimed. | |||
“Good afternoon,” he said; he uttered these words so timidly that he was ashamed and stammered like a little girl, “Oh-er-I’m not sure what you’re talking about”. | |||
“God’s disciple is as stupid as a stump,” another of the three chimed in. “Bet he couldn’t land a solid punch here either,” he stated pointing to his chin. | |||
The boy clenched his fists but did nothing. Closing his eyes he prayed to Him above. A few seconds later and he was alone, bruised as usual. Everything was a blur. A policeman helped him to his feet. It was comforting to know not all of the area’s authority figures had succumbed to party propaganda. | |||
The youth placed the food which had not been pillaged into his back. It wasn’t much-two fish and five loaves of bread-but it would have to suffice. He scurried back to the monastery to speak to the friar. | |||
The boy entered the shrine where he knew his master awaited. True to his convictions the monk had refused an ornery finish in favor of a courser, more common aesthetic. | |||
“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, what brings you here today, boy?” the priest inquired. | |||
The youth inhaled and exhaled loudly, well aware of the repercussions which awaited if he abandoned the religion. | |||
“I no longer know who I am, father. My notions of good and evil are crumbling before my very eyes and my faith falters if it means martyrdom on the cross like our savior, Christ the Lord.” | |||
The old man gazed at the ground, a haggard expression on his face. He had confronted many doubters but never before had one of his own pupils strayed from the paths of the shepherd. | |||
“Why do people choose a rose over any other flower? Is it because everyone recognizes the luscious red and fragrant odor? Society has adorned its petals with a most distinguished award as the charmer of lovers. Similarly many are flocking away from the Father today because they see others doing so and the party condemns such practices. But is that the right choice? Few ask these hard questions and in doing so you uncover the truth about yourself.” | |||
The old man sighed and stood up, strolling across the room at a leisurely pace. He continued, “The right decision is often the harder one and you chose the path of justice earlier today at the marketplace”. | |||
The boy stared ahead with a bewildered look on his face. How did the ancient know of his activity? | |||
“Father, who informed you of these tidings? I’m sorry for not telling you. I-er-was afraid you wouldn’t…understand”. | |||
The stammering has returned once more. The youth was allowing the fear to flow to his mind. “Snap out of it,” he told himself. | |||
The priest enunciated a loud bellow permeating the entire chamber. “My child, Officer Louis is a good friend of mine. As long as he monitors the streets those goons will never lay waste to this place.” | |||
The apprentice rose and approached his master. “I’ve pondered over what you’ve told me, Father, and I truly believe you are correct. Only through Him can we obtain eternal salvation. Our society is one of merit and learning devoid of crime and squalor. I will continue to accompany my Lord. He shows me that patience is more important than power and those who plan adroitly shall triumph in the final showdown”. | |||
“Very well then, my boy,” the old man pronounced, an exhausted air about his features. | |||
The lad exited through a side door to his dormitory. | |||
*** | |||
One week elapsed from that day and the boy went off to the market once more to obtain supplies. Surprisingly for the first time ever his oppressors were not there to greet him. Then it happened. Upon purchasing provisions he heard the alarm sound. | |||
He rushed back to the monastery and found it in flames, poisonous vapor escaping through the remains of the windows and chimney. The paramedics were huddled around the scene and reported no survivors. | |||
A tear dropping from the corner of his eyelid to the gravel, the boy knew the opposing faction desired for him to strike back. He wouldn’t offer them that satisfaction. Continuing his master’s efforts was the only way to end this bitter struggle. It was only a matter of time before the hammer and sickle faltered to the strength of the human spirit. | |||