To Begin

The world has fallen, a new order risen, and still the children continue to question.

To Begin.

    Dreamy-eye, a small, chubby seven year old sat on dust-covered carpet and led a galloping toy horse across its breadth. The horse was making its way to a grimy, beat up play set that had signs of once being a miniature ark. After years of flight and ravage at the hands of a child; however, it no longer lay majestically on the dirty ground.

    At the sound of a heavy sigh the inquisitive child looked up at her mother, setting aside the horse and the ark for her mother’s shadowed face as it looked out a small window.

    “Mother?”

    “Yes dear?”

“Why are there no female angels?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, and the mother looked down at her child with surprise and a bit of horrification. She appeared to be incapable of answering the simple question, seemed almost afraid to open her mouth.

“There are female angels dear.”

    There was something in the mother’s eyes that told her child that it wasn’t true though. Still puzzled, the child continued to prod.

“But they don’t talk about them in the Bible.”

There was silence.

“Mother, why are there no female angels?”

“Because a woman did not write the Bible sweetheart.”

“And why did Adam blame Eve?”

“Adam was a man, child.”

“But why didn’t Adam tell Eve not to eat the apple?”

The mother sighed haphazardly. She turned to the wide-eyed child, and grabbed the young girl’s chubby chin in her shaking hand. Mesmerized and thoughtful, the child glowed with innocence. To the mother, that innocence was more pleasant then the ray of the laughing sun, but it was something that was more valuable then any sun. Aware of the value, the mother was gentle.

“You, my dear, ask too many questions for your own good. Perhaps, it would be better for you to ask only me your questions.”

The child blinked, unsure as to why her mother sudden drooped with sadness. She did not understand, the blue-eyed child, the pain… or the anger of her mother. She did not register the falling ash outside the small window of their unadorned apartment.

“But-“

“No Selah,” said the mother, this time forceful with both her hand and her voice. Selah winced as the hand tightened on her bone. “Please. This world is not ready for your questions, especially not now… perhaps once, but not now. Maybe someday but-“ She stopped, aware that she was rambling.

Still shaking, the mother let her hand fall from her child’s chin and turned back to the window that she had been looking out of. Then the mother began to sob. And outside the little window, death was falling.





In the first day they destroyed everything.

They kept some of the population, of course. Those who were obedient and dim-headed, and those who made for good minions were left alive to destroy those who were intellectual and intelligent. They were slaughtered in sacrifice to a weeping God, who I believe could do nothing because that is the curse of free will. If brother chooses to slaughter sister, then it is choice, and he cannot choose for us.

Those who escaped slaughter fled into truth, hiding and blending in with the accepted people of the Church.  Their numbers were few, easily ignored by the rapidly growing dominion. They became forgotten, but did not forget. Instead the rebels, intellectuals, and creative artists would lay in wait for a leader who could not only keep them together, but had enough courage to lead a revolution.

Of course, I was born into the later part, after the first day and the New Church’s annihilation of free will. The year 157 was past the century marker, and for the most part the world’s population seemed subdued.

I grew up in a world wreaked with destruction, but it was covered up with propaganda. War? It was no war; it was obliteration. It was judgment. Religions that once preached life and love twisted their followers into knights for a new world order, and the cults across the world grew until they could do nothing but clash.

    As for us, my mother and I, we would become one with the empty-headed and dull minded. At least she would. I would never have the temperament to live a lie, nor the patience to lay in wait.

    She saw this.

    She understood this.

    She sent me away and the last thing that she told me was that I would never come back. It wasn’t a command; it was the truth.

    True to my word, I never asked anyone the questions that constantly barraged me. Instead I turned them into action, and with my newfound family, the Memor, the alliance of the passionate and thoughtful, I too waited for someone to lead us from the darkness.

Author's Note

I think I am going to develop this more. Oh- and just so people understand this thoroughly, I am not insulting religion. I do not have a problem with any religion. I have a problem with religious establishments which remain perversely conservative in an always changing world. So please, if you take far too much offense from this story, take the pole out of your butt and give the mind some rest.