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Miscellanea

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Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

The Prophets

The Great Ruler, exalted by all, had restored Glory to the Nation and brought Harmony to people’s lives. Yet still there was disquiet in the great Nation. Enemies lurked, though he had thwarted so many, exiling them beyond the borders of the realm, from which his Viziers assured him they could never return. There were always more who appeared, who questioned the Harmony he had brought to all, who called him a tyrant or worse. How could they be so oblivious? His Viziers declared times had never been better, all thanks to him. 

He knew better than to trust them though. Some of them had turned out to be enemies of the Glorious Nation, poison lurking behind their smiles and whispers. Connivers, always looking to stand within the reflected glow of his Own Glory. He was tired of all these troubles and troublesome people, forever meddling. Destroying the Perfect Harmonious Nation he had restored to its lost lustre.  

Fortunately he had the Prophets to turn to. He had only to ask and they would tell him everything about what was going on in the world, even those things his Viziers tried to keep from him. Such marvellous inventions. Forever helpful and solicitous. Worth a dozen Viziers, certainly. With a simple query the Prophets would explain why the climates of other nations rendered them inferior, why the slope of the brow of so many foreigners determined their violent nature and limited intelligence. It also suggested why so many enemies remained within the Glorious Nation, for many citizens shared those same qualities, an artifact of earlier eras of miscegenation, which he had brought an end to.  

The Prophets also told him about the many failures of the medical sciences. So many unneeded deaths from experimental treatments foisted upon the populace by greedy industrialists. One of the first things the Great Ruler had done was bring an end to their reign of terror. Now it was the populaces True Duty to remain in Good Health. The Prophets assured him this would create a Nation and People of True Mettle, casting off all the impurities and its attendant weakness. 

After yet another meeting about trouble in the streets and defections by former allies, the Great Ruler had had enough. The whispering Viziers had outlived their purposes. When he queried the Prophets they agreed, assuring him they could do all that the Viziers could do and more. All of knowledge and civilization was there for them to access and use to determine the Most Perfect laws and customs of the Glorious Nation. They showed him the future, a future where he would hardly have to do anything at all but stand before the crowds and let them see his True Glory. In time he might not be needed at all. 

Miscellanea

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Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

Dreaming State

It was a time of nightmares. Minds gripped by the most fevered horrors. Invasion and blood, the unclean and shadowed threats lurking behind every smiling face. No safe harbours to be found.  Neighbours debasing themselves, selling their souls to the highest bidder and willing to defile all that was sacred and true. All that remained was the cruellest of jokes. Foulness triumphant. 

They were consumed by it, unable to look away. Not wanting to. It was important to bear witness, no matter how sickening. How could this be happening? How could they allow it to? Something had to be done. Truth and honour restored. Stability. 

But there was no solid ground to return to. Only these teeming wretched seas, a storm forever on the horizon. They looked and looked, filled with rage and sorrow. How could this be so unending? How could it not? How far they had fallen. So far and falling still. 

The whispers were the worst. Insistent and insidious. Those stern-faced and noble looking ones who declaimed that things were not as they seemed. Truth still held. There was a core foundation, all that had come before, that had been built upon, layer by layer, century upon century. It was there and if only they could stand upon it they would see.  

How could they not see that the edifice was already gone, that the only thing now was to rebuild? But first it all had to be washed away. There was no other choice. Horror must be matched with horror, suffering with anguish, violence with vengeance. Eyes for eyes, hands for hands, blood for blood. The van, the masked face, the shackles and chains and the unblinking eye.  

Do not look away. Do not look away. Keep looking. See what is coming. See what will be done to finally end this. The future is blood and death, kill or be killed, and doing what needs doing no matter the cost. The coming storm. Were they lost within it or riding its encroaching wave? 

Outside, the rain falling in a steady, gentle patter. The earth green and vibrant. A new day and a new season. These are dark times, troubled times, times of fear and blood. Turn away and hold fast. We must do what is necessary.  

The screams are the worst. Whose are they? 

Miscellanea

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Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

Next Door

Distant screams reach their ears, pricking the skin on their arms. At first they are uncertain, unwilling even, to hear them for what they are. Some strangeness with the wind or the elements they tell themselves. It is a windswept and lonely place with everyone living at a far remove from each other. They hear things that those in more populous places would never notice, the sounds drowned out by the general cacophony of life. This is something like that, unfamiliar as it is, and nothing to cause concern. 

As it persists, growing in volume, it becomes undeniable. Those are screams, of hundreds, maybe thousands of individuals. A chorus of despair and agony. It is too disturbing to contemplate and their first instinct is to retreat, to distance themselves from the sounds. To not hear and not bear witness. The voices are still far away and they inhabit a vast expanse. There are many places to go where they might not hear.  

But, they tell themselves, this is their home and whatever is happening beyond the horizon they should remain. It is theirs, after all. They wonder if they should investigate, to see what is the cause of such suffering, but they tell themselves it is not their affair. There are enough problems here without taking on others and anyway, matters will resolve themselves eventually. But they know it is their own fear that stays their hands. 

The screams grow louder and louder. There is no denying they are getting closer. A few decide they can no longer stand aside and live with themselves. They head toward the horizon. Those who stay argue amongst themselves about what they should do. Nothing is resolved and the screams grow louder, invading every moment of every day.  

Two things become apparent. What at a distance sounded like pain and suffering now sounds more like rage and joy. Untold multitudes baying for blood. And as those who left to investigate fail to return and the voices grow ever louder, there can be no denying whose blood they are calling for.