The Church

By: Marc McMahon

This article is Not about Recovery it was featured in May’s issue of Down In The Dirt Magazine a publication I write fiction for. I thought I might share something a little off genre just to spice it up a little plus I really like this story and thought you all may as well. Have a wonderful day my friends and thank you. If nobody has told you today I would just like to say, I Love You my friends stay blessed.

The Church

Into the darkness, they march. Stainless steel cuffs tightly clasped around the ankles of men. Arms zip tied at the wrists behind. Handkerchiefs stuffed in each of their mouths, wrapped generously with duct tape. The left eye of each, gauged out and sewn shut.
It is the latest batch of prisoners being brought out to be silenced. The latest group of people caught having the courage to speak out for what is right. The ones who believed that changing the world and overcoming this establishment was possible. The ones the king calls, the “most unfortunates”.

“We cannot go on like this” Bashir says to his Father. The King must be stopped and he must be stopped now! No sooner did the freakishly large six-foot-four-inch middle-eastern man finish his sentence when the door came crashing in as four of the king’s knights entered the room.
Armed with 9mm Glock handguns and the versatile L85A2 Assault Rifle, the men quickly grab Bashir, throw him face down on the living room floor and in a matter of seconds the house is cleared of threats, the target neutralized. This is how the King keeps order, through fear. The tale, tale, sign of a weak leader, if you can even call him that!

You see we have no privacy here anymore, it troubles me deeply. Not since, well, not since the king’s army came and ousted our last ruler. He was so egocentric and prideful that he dismissed all his military adviser’s advice as how to defend our city from the attack, he refused to listen. He argued that his successful endeavors in amassing his fortune could now somehow be implemented as military strategy. It was a very dangerous move for him and a potentially fatal move for our land, but he did not care. He knew he and his family would be tucked away safe somewhere in a secret safe spot enjoying the finer things and relishing in our demise if he failed, so he had no real concern.

So what were we left to do? What would you have done? Would you have lived under the ruling thumb of a vindictive king who cares not about his people, your family, the children, your loved ones? Or would you to have joined the resistance and supported our cause risking the ultimate sacrifice? That is what these men have done, and now they will pay for it, with their life.
It is a perilous time we live in today. Our great land has not seen this kind of turmoil for some time now. I have never witnessed this level of blatant disregard for our people’s well-being. We had had enough so we secretly recruited, planned, and organized a tremendously large network of citizens not yet ready to let this ruler destroy their futures and all that their ancestors had worked, fought, and died for.

What kind of parents would we be if we cowardly stood by and did nothing and let this monster destroy the lives we have been desperately clawing out for our children. We would be no better than they are. Today we amassed all the men we had available to attempt an ambush on the king’s prisoner transport in hopes we can free the captives before it is too late.
The problem was it was a desperate attempt but it was the best attempt we could muster. It was a last-ditch effort to save the few who sacrificed everything, to try and bring liberty to all. To those who believe in the power of the greater good over this kings evil. I led a group of the bravest men on this day, outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. They battled bravely today, although to no avail. Not only did our mission fail but we lost all but three on that old clay road. It was left painted Picasso Red with freedom fighters blood.
That is what has happened here today, behind the gates of this king’s city, his Kingdom, his Territory. Stripped from their families and tortured slowly until death as to be made examples of what will continue to happen to those who rise up against this ruler. Where every Sunday the prisoners of this state will be marched through town, down the silk road that leads directly to their demise. The 5 story, sun-scorched wooden structure, that the locals refer to as “The Church.”

Scars Publications

 

About The Author: Marc is a 48-year-old Author, Speaker, and Soldier in a war to loosen the grasp that Substance Abuse has on our society. He is a Father, Son, and friend to all those seeking refuge from this incorrigible disease. Marc resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest where he enjoys, writing, hiking, and kicking the disease of addiction in the teeth, every chance he gets. As Marc always likes to say, “be blessed, my friends!”

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