The Fanatics

By
More by this author
Serene and lackadaisical as it could be, faith was not ever to be abridged in the civic, for the gods were tempered fellows who would destroy one if given a reason. The civilians, controlled by coercions of incarceration by their divinity, lived ascetic lives as an attempt to be faithful to their creator. The book of holy, as they named it, was believed to be created by the potent Zaeem, who then, along with allied idols, transformed the vacuum of no desire into the universe existing at present. Zaeem, prayed to, danced to, sacrificed to, seemed never to be in one’s actual presence or alleviation, yet the beliefs of the civilians grew to fanatics.

The stars seemed to be speaking to one another, blinking wildly as if a conflict was to occur. The night was hushed, filled with composure and protection; the creatures thriving seemed to cease their petty skirmishes. The moon shone luminously as those who slumbered darkened their lanterns. One particular owl, named peripatetic by his past companions (they simply envied him), seemed a bit more inquisitive this night. The creature turned his large head around, as if apprehending adversity, yet it remained tranquil. His luminescent yellow eyes opened wide and he flew down from his tree to the sacred tributary.

“Zaeem, the holy, grant thou, grant us in the human form not yet to the afterlife, the existence bliss. Nonbelievers and those who adulate them shall be slaughtered with our own hands, disgraced with our vain convictions. Their internals have no right to decompose in the consecrated land, for your creations should be worthy of such tribulation. Their impudence and bilious natures shall be chastised until those grotesque figures repent all. Zaeem, we comply your ascendency!” chanted four terribly aged priests, who began to dance vigorously with vehement conviction glinting in their eyes. However, one austere member of the assembly ceased his movements. A petite man turned to his side, violently seized a dilapidated sack and threw it before his acquaintances. The hooded figures abruptly ceased their dance and impetuously gathered in a semi-circle. The aforementioned man, who had thrown the sack, reached into it and pulled out a cadaverous calf, which collapsed despairingly to the earth.

The tyrannical priest drew a knife from his belt, and plunged it into the soil, as he beckoned his companions closer.

“We, the consecrated and intimate priests of Zaeem, are compelled upon performing a sacrifice ceremony to reinstate composure to this malignant world. It tantalizes and seduces every pliant man, and every man at one point succumbs. He comes back with the new convictions he discovers and is even more pertinacious to abide by tradition, devoid of our expostulations. Malignance is to result in perdition and infernal treatment of souls according to you, and out of pure obligation and devotion, we intend for them to repent. Obliged by our consciences, we vow to quell modernization, for you may not cease your ascendency. With this pronouncement, we hereby formally commence the sacrifice!” the man finished as his companions abetted him. The tyrant motioned to a man with a fierce countenance, beckoning him towards the calf.

Apprehending, he nimbly flew to the infelicitous creature and thrust a bent dagger into its chest, as both he and the animal let out shrieks, one of exultation and the other of pain. The calf impetuously convulsed for a few beats until finally falling to the cold, stolid ground. The men glanced at each other in query and soon smiles broke out of their austere faces.

“The delusive one has fallen, comrades,” said he who had proudly murdered the innocent life, “Shall we rejoice at this accomplishment? Shall we disport ourselves with mirth or receive delectation from badinage, comrades? Shall we?” His countenance was fervent as if he was clinging to a firm conviction, and his voice held strong like a solid oak in a torrential blizzard. His gelid glare rested on one particular man, who was timidly peeking out behind a corpulent one. Gaunt and sackless, the poor creature was quailing in trepidation of death, yet his eyes held some kind of zest and ardor that was different from his leader’s.

“No, we shall not,” the quaint man answered in indignation.

“And why not Jabir?” queried he who had asked.

“We are not fully finished, for there are many more nonbelievers in the universe that we shall annihilate.”

“Why are we compelled upon doing it?”

“It is an obligation to Him.”

Tuesday, June 16, 2009





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback