English Novel - Soul by very well aged

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Re: English Novel - Soul by very well aged

Unread post by sexy » 05 Dec 2016 10:14

Chapter 14: The Portrait Gallery

He didn’t. For Jacobo, the last second his wristwatch recorded, when his pulse was present, was a little past four forty-nine this morning. The elegant man, in his starched and pressed uniform, with his spit shined shoes, ended life sprawled out in a dirt alleyway, next to a pile of trash and a meter from a crack in the concrete from which the effluent of city dwellers rose into the air, unfiltered and unpleasant. His drawers filled with shit and piss that leaked out of his lifeless corpse.

His assistants lay around him in equally squalid states. There were four of them who died this morning and with those deaths, died the memory of Erlyn’s connection to the syndicate that took the lives of her family.

But they didn’t die as a means of retribution. They died because their existence threatened Erlyn. They died because others wanted them dead too. The first reason required the second reason for any summation.

Neither Erlyn nor I knew of this until far later in the morning. It isn’t the two of us, who inform others. It will be Amelae, later.

All Erlyn and I know this morning, as we exit the work area, is that there is nothing from one side after about four thirty and the other side is texting about other issues later in the morning. There is nothing to tell us what transpired. We know something dramatic has occurred only because there are text from others, wondering where their guys are, who has the Shabu. There are complaints about someone not showing up.

Erlyn and I are sitting at the dining table. She is drinking Milo and I have a cup of coffee. There is a large pan of sticky rice with a brown sugar and coconut topping on the table, from which we have both been spooning mounds onto small plates. It is five thirty and the others have not awakened.

You know, I will never be pretty again? I have this bad scar now. I never walk correctly again. You still want me? You tell me before, I not permitted to go, but you not required to keep me.

Do you want me to release you?

No! Never!

Good, because as of now, I renounce my ability to release you. You must stay.

Even though I am ugly?

I smile. She is not ugly. She will never walk smoothly again, from what the doctor tells us, and yes the scar is ugly, but she is not. That is something that she will never figure out. From now on, she will think of herself as damaged goods.

Erlyn, you are mine. I do not want to hear about this again. You may not leave and I will not tell you to leave. Your job is to make me happy. My job is to make you happy. Are we clear on this?

Yes, Master. Master, are you happy?

For the moment, I am as happy as is realistic, until I learn the fate of those men. I need to keep you safe.

Why that?

The fact that I do is all you need to know.

Master, why sometimes it look like you are sad?

Because we all have regrets. You have regrets, and I have mine.

Francine’s mother?

Yes.

Why you not say her name?

It is too painful.

Sorry. Sorry I make you sad now.

We drink our drinks, eat the sticky rice and are enveloped by the quiet, and the dim half-light that sneaks through the sheer drapes covering windows facing away from the sun on this overcast day.

Master, will your daughter like us? She not be angry we are here?

Francine is very happy you are here.

How it feel to you? I am her age.

Yes, you are. But you are not my daughter.

Sige, sige. Master, the nail polish, the make-up. That hers, di ba?

Why does it matter?

It not old. These colors, they like we have now. The polish still very good. The powder in the same type containers in the stores now. She the only one here before?

Erlyn, why does it matter?

Things in it for the body, not just the face. You know this?

Yes.

So?

Erlyn, why does it matter?

How you with your daughter?

I am her father. If you are asking if I am her lover, I am not.

Sige, sige. Sorry I make you mad.

I am not angry with you.

Once again silence rules as I sip more of my cooling cup of coffee. I reach out and take hold of Erlyn’s hand. She smiles. We will be OK.

Mirafe and Aina emerge from their bedroom. Both look groggy. They must have just rolled out of bed. Both make a beeline for the Milo and then settle around us, using spoons to eat the sticky rice, directly from the pan. Appreciative smiles grace both their faces as the sweet concoction fills their mouths with the soft, but chewy treat.

The warm Milo having infused some sense of life into Mirafe, the girl, glancing over the edge of her cup, asks if there is any news.

Nothing worth mentioning yet, I tell her. Erlyn’s eyebrows confirming my assertion.

I can see Aina hoping that our failure to claim success is a harbinger of news that her Jesus has saved the men. She is on edge. I smile at her. She tries to smile back but is conflicted. A smile briefly appears and is turned off as she turns her head away from me.

Ten minutes later Amelae appears. It is clear she has toileted and is fully awake as she heads straight to the coffee pot and pours herself a cup. Sitting down, table spoon in hand she scoops up a decent size clump of the sticky rice and nibbles a piece from the spoonful she has gathered. That was a bloody mess this morning.

Excuse me? Do you know something?

You don’t, Master?

No, I don’t. What have you learned?

There is a report that the NPA attacked and gun down four PNP this morning.

Erlyn is pissed. Hindi! Wala1 NPA!

Amelae is signaling that she understands. They have to say that. They not going to report the PNP are in a drug syndicate. Di Ba?

Erlyn is mollified. Aina asks, Any live?

Wala na.2 Master? This what you hope for result?

Yes. All those who needed to die are now dead. It is over.

Amelae, looks at Erlyn, and you can see the wheels turning. This time I really do think I know what is in her mind, but it is best if she is the one to say it.

Friend, you and me, we cause many to die. Many want to kill us. I am glad it is over for you. I am not sure for me. Why so many want to kill us? We not do anything bad.

Hindi ko alam3. Without Master, I patay4. Maybe you are not patay, but your mother patay, di ba?

Oo, talaga. Without Master, maybe the wrong ones dead.

Sige.

Aina seems to be mortified and quietly leaves the table, and the room. The girls look at her and glances are exchanged. They wanted to like her. They wanted to have her join them. For a while they were not sure. Now they are. She, in their eyes, needs to go.

Master, I can go out now? I can look to see what the church doing, also?

Yes, you no longer need to hide.

Good. Now I will use an umbrella! I am lighter now. I want to stay this way. And Erlyn giggles.

The three of them appear happy. There is an ease in their posture and their expressions that was not there before. As they exit the house, a house they see as home, they are sure of who they are and where they belong in the world.

I still have concerns about Amelae and more seriously, her mother, but they are not in any immediate danger from what I can tell. At the moment, my attention is shifted toward the church for which the girl’s had been soliciting. Lying, as they were doing, to support a church in a manner outside the agreed upon rules. In this, I do not have to keep my hands off, even though I am not protecting a soul contracted to me.

But I can’t do it myself. That is not allowed. My girls are not nearly numerous enough to stop what is happening. What is needed is overwhelming action. I know exactly where to get the needed forces.

The reality of funds collected in the manner that these kids are doing it is the total lack of accountability. How much is going to the work of the church and how much is going into the personal pockets of the high and mighty within the church is a mystery. These churches are scams of scams. If folks want and need to believe in whatever… OK, let them. That’s the deal. That’s in the rules of our game. But stealing by deceiving kids that they are doing “god’s work” by deceiving others in a scam that steals from the end patron and stealing again from those deceived into taking the money under the false pretense… no, that is enough to really piss me off.

I need an army. What I need is “god’s army.” Luckily they are here, all around us. They are organized, and disciplined, and able to be turned out on orders from on high. And it is somewhat fitting that they be the instruments of the demise of this sham church. The question of how I can get them to act is the challenge of the moment. I will use the Catholics. The Inglesia ni Cristo functions too much like the mafia as it is. OK so do the Catholics, but they don’t kidnap their own senior officials during turf battles. The INC does. Plus there are simply far more Catholics.

The sham church has activities throughout the islands. So one bishopric, is not enough I need the entire Philippines.

I decide to send a fax to the bishop with whom I have already had a run in. The sending number will once again seem to come from his dead priest.

You are instructed to do as follows.

Contact all in the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines. Inform them that you have received a divine command that the congregation of the Catholic Church of the Philippines shall interfere with those who are instructed by a false church to solicit funds for said church and its leaders by false claims, false premises, and subterfuge.

Each parish church, and each congregation of each cathedral shall be so directed to act without failure, and without relaxation, until all activities by such solicitors is ended by any means required.

You are instructed to say that failure shall bring with it the deaths of priests, if the failure is limited to a locale, or the death of the bishop who refuse these instructions. Deaths will commence in one week.

To talk to me directly, text the number on this fax. I will receive your messages. Leave those I protect alone. They know nothing of this.

I see the fax is received in the office of the Bishop. Within minutes a SMS text is sent to the dead priest’s cell number.

Give me time.

I send a text back from that number. No.

An hour later I see a phone call from the Bishop to the offices of the church which I am targeting. The call ends fifteen minutes later and a new text is sent. They refuse to stop. They tell me it is none of my business.

I answer with, Six days, twenty-two hours and thirty-four minutes. Do not haggle. Do not anger me.

I see a fax is sent to the secretary of the CBCP. It reads as I have instructed. I see a broadcast text message that I gather includes all those in the Conference. I collect all these numbers. How very accommodating they are to provide this to me. A fax is then transmitted to all those on the list as well. I can now start connecting the dots between the bishops and their seats of operations, and to their priests.

I have done all I can for now. I know there will be strong pushback, and lots of anger. I just don’t care. These are pompous fools. Well educated to be sure, but fools.

I need to spend some time with the girls. Mirafe has been needing attention and it is more than time to provide it. After a nice lunch of heart of palm and coconut milk, I take the girl by the hand. She looks at me, nods, smiles, and tells me, Í am ready.

I guess I am too. We go through into the locked passageway, back to my bedroom. She has not been here before. Master, may I look around?

Yes.

And that is evidently the permission she needs to look into every possible hidey-hole in the room. There is really nothing to see, except for one cabinet. There, neatly kept, and in order, are the likelinesses of each of the females with whom I have spent a life. Some are portraits. A few of the later ones are pictures. Attached to each: a lock of hair; a record, where such existed, of the birth of our child; a letter, or testament from my companion to me, of that, which she wanted me to remember of her; and the place and time of her burial.

The letters are in many different languages. A few on clay tablets. Many on parchment. Some on vellum. The last on acid free paper. As Mirafe cannot read them in most cases, she decides I need to read them. She also decides that Amelae and Erlyn need to be here too. She asks permission to have them join us. I grant it.

She goes back down the hall to allow the two through. Mirafe tells me Aina looks on with a pained expression as my three souls disappear from her view down the hallway.

Mirafe sets about the task of telling her companions what she has found. She announces, she will set out the likeness of the companion, and as it is in view, I will read aloud to them the testament.

I cannot think of a sweeter and simultaneously more painful duty. Questions frequently interrupting the reading as meanings need clarification or enlargement. Some of the letters are brief. Certainly the ones on the tablets are not very demanding of elaboration. But as we get to the parchment, time after time, one of the three has questions. Reliving all this is beyond difficult.

Amelae asks, as we have moved through the first ten or so, Why do you change locations so far?

Because I do not want to take the soul of my progeny.

Why? There is no sin. Why not?

I don’t want to be the father of a monster. That is why.

Oh!

The reading of the letters continues, until we get to Francine’s mother. Here there is a picture, a lock of hair, but nothing else. No name, no letter, and no child’s birth record.

Erlyn is holding the photo. Master, she was truly beautiful. Maybe one of the most beautiful of all. I mean no bad things for us, but we not beautiful like her. The other two are silently agreeing with the assessment.

Mirafe asks the obvious. Master, they loved you. Some say your love kept them alive. Why you not love your daughter? Why you not love us?

Because Friend, says Erlyn who is still holding the photo, because of her. He can’t love us until he can say her name and say goodbye to this one who he loved so much. Even then I am not sure. Love blinds. He must never be blind again. That why! … Amelae what you doing?

Taking photos of the children’s records. Maybe we can research and find Master’s heirs!

You ask the Master if he will allow this! He is right next to you. Maybe he not want this.

Why had I never cared? I am not opposed to it. I just didn’t see the point in it. This whole process has taken a toll on me. I feel exposed in a way I have not felt in a long time. Amelae, you may do this. You have my permission. And all look happy.

It is long past time for supper. Mirafe will take a rain check on the rest of this. We exit the private rooms and rejoin the rest of the house and Aina. She has been crying.

I ask my three to get food on the table and sit down with Aina.

OK, why the tears?

Don’t you know? You are a powerful god!

Are you trying to anger me?

She is just looking at me, bewildered.

Aina I know you are angry with me, but why do you want me to be angry with you?

Why you mean to me?

I am not mean to you.

You keep me out!

You have not given me your soul. How is that being mean?

How you powerful, if you don’t know my heart?

Because humans have free will. Thoughts are transient and change from moment to moment. Thoughts tell us nothing. We don’t waste time with them. So I don’t know what you have in your head.

You heard Erlyn’s prayer! So that not true.

A prayer in time of life’s threat, of one who has given her soul, is not a thought. It is an arrow that pierces my mind. It is entirely something else from a thought. I cannot read your mind at all simply because you are not mine.

You are not powerful like God or Jesus!

If there was a God or Jesus, you would be correct. But there isn’t.

How I know this?

You don’t. How you know there is, without the answer, faith. Faith is not knowing. So how you know?

It is faith!

Yes I know you want to believe. That requires faith because you don’t know. Knowing is the opposite of Faith. You do not know there is a god or a Jesus. And I can’t help you with that.

Why you not know my heart?

Because I don’t have that power, Aina. What does your heart say?

Why I have to ask? Why you not just take me and it be over?!

Oh. I see. Yes you want others to direct you, to take control of you. Yes, I can see that in your personality. But then later you can hate and resent the person or the group that did that to you, and took your freedom away. It is somewhat how you allowed that priest to control you so entirely. Aina that is not how it works here. I will control you for life, but only if you ask me to do that. Yes I know I could force the issue, but I will not. It is you who has to choose. Only then do you own the results.

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Re: English Novel - Soul by very well aged

Unread post by sexy » 05 Dec 2016 10:15

Chapter 15: Whack-a-mole

Aina is a problem. She has fundamentally told me to rape her and be done with it. That just isn’t going to happen. But I do think she needs to see more of my cruel side. She responds to that. Nice isn’t what turns her crank. Power does. She wants to believe she has signed up with the more powerful team.

Her problem is she doesn’t know where power really resides. She has been taught it is in the Church and in Jesus. I am challenging that and do seem to have power. But is it enough? She doubts it, but she is not sure.

At the supper table I discuss my plan with the CBCP. I explain that it will probably mean a few deaths.

Ninong, you will kill a bishop?

No, I don’t kill. I thought I had made that clear. But others may. When it comes to clergy who have climbed up this far, all have left behind some very angry people. It’s just a question of turning over some rocks.

Bishops are very powerful. They are close to Jesus. We will be in danger.

If there was a Jesus, you would be correct. But there is no Jesus and we are in no danger. The bishops however are in grave danger. I will keep you all informed of how things progress, including you Aina.

That night I am reviewing the messaging that has been flowing. I see one Bishop who is fairly abusively upbraiding the bishop I have contacted. I send “my” bishop a message. Tell your detractor that I am aware of him and shall make him an example for the others.

I cannot!

I will do it for you. Wait and learn.

It only takes me five hours to find the bishops greatest vulnerability. I exploit it. I will wait as things start to congeal.

At breakfast, all seem to be in good moods. My three were gone for a few hours, in an attempt to learn about the current doings at their old church. I need to hear what they have to say about it.

Aina is still ‘grounded’ and reports that she has gained another kilo. It is just too fast and I say as much while we are still at the table. But I have something else to ask her.

Aina, have you heard of a Bishop Burgos?

Yes! He is a very important man. Why you ask?

He needs to learn a lesson.

You cannot! He is too powerful.

We will see. In the meantime, girls, what did you learn yesterday?

Mirafe has decided to speak for the three of them, and it appears to be by consensus.

They doing the same thing we always do. They meet in the morning, agree on who gets what area that day. They do the soliciting most during the lunch times and return to the church to give the money to the pastors in the late afternoon. After that they attend religious instruction until meal time. Later the boys are sent out to solicit at venues and the girls are sent to the dormitory. No change. But there are new pastors. The old ones you send to jail.

Anything else?

Wala. I not think we need to go back. This morning we will work in the garden. In the afternoon we will clean your rooms in the back. OK?

Yes. OK.

May we have a key to your rooms?

It took them long enough to ask! I made three for them. They are in a pocket. I reach in and pull the lot out, giving each her own. Each gives me a kiss before taking off to work outside in the cool of the morning.

I expect the next few days to be uneventful on the clerical front as what I have set in motion needs time to mature. Still I look at the traffic with the bishops as well as circle back on things past. While all should be quiet on those older issues, I don’t want to be blindsided by my own hubris.

And sometimes what you do not expect is exactly what you find. There is an anomaly in Amelae’s mom’s patient records at the hospital. They have hopped her up on painkillers and anti-anxiety meds, but are giving her placebos instead of real anti-biotics for the TB. I look for and find the personnel record for the doc who has done this and send a text using his “next of kin” contact number. That is his wife’s number.

Correct meds > no placebo > or I will destroy you. Do it NOW! /s/ The Master.

The text was read because the next thing I see is him calling his wife. No doubt, she is denying sending the text. I see a call to someone else. It is a voice call and I can’t tell who it is. So I open up the unknown phone’s SMS log. It is another doc.

I watch traffic from both docs. Number two doc calls the local parish. Someone at the parish is calling ‘my’ local bishop.

The bishop is texting the dead priest’s phone. Not me, not the church! We not doing this. Doctors decide to kill the woman. They tell me it is too late now to save her.

I answer.

Save her or they and you will all suffer the same fate as that woman. Act NOW.

I watch has four numbers go into action at the same time. The bodyguard protecting Nanay is instructed to bring her to the hospital immediately. New doctors are asked for. A text to the PNP informs them of two docs who were trying to kill the woman. PNP officers are dispatched to arrest two docs. The officers are told to shoot if the docs resist arrest.

In the next two hours, the mom has been hospitalized and is receiving intensive treatments. Armed guards are stationed outside her room. Two docs may or may not have resisted arrest, but they are dead in any case.

A text from the bishop to the dead priest’s phone asks, Did you kill them?

I am not sure I want to answer. I choose to leave the question hanging. I circle back to the phones of our now lifeless physicians to see to whom they were talking. I see it. It was another priest. That is where the idea was been spawned.

I text the bishop using that special number. You have a problem. Your priest, Cruz, needs to tell you what he did, or it will be more than the priest who will suffer. I put the priest in your hands for his crime. He is not to be saved, unless you want my wrath on all.

He answers. Are you telling me to kill him?

He attempted murder and it was only with divine intervention that the woman is not dead right now. She will likely die because of his actions. Do what you must. I will be watching.

I am not watching. At least not like he may think I am. Still I will eventually see what comes of this. I am frustrated and greatly irritated. These priests have been killing in the name of Christ for millennia. This is no different from a thousand years ago. Priests are bloodthirsty. The more my mind remembers all the wrongs over the years, my heart hardens against them. It is time to shake them up. It is time for a bishop or two to die.

I get up and walk into the main part of the house. Finding Amelae, I tell her, Your mother had a problem with her meds. She is in the hospital. At this time there is nothing immediate that is happening and she is being treated. I don’t want to alarm you. Hopefully she will be OK. As soon as I am aware of how things are going, I will let you know.

Thank you for looking after her, Master.

Ninety minutes later I am back in the work area when a text to the dead priests phone appears. Cruz told the doctors to ‘allow her to die, as the illness was God’s will.’ I ask my priest, ‘Is it God’s will that we all die?’ He look at me. He ask, ‘Why I say that?’ I tell him you will kill all of us if the woman dies. I tell him that he must die now. No matter if she live or die. His life is forfeit now, or maybe we all die anyway. He say, ‘How Jesus allow this?’ I tell him, maybe there is no Jesus. I not know anything now. He has a gun. He kill himself. Please no more death!

I do not answer. No answer is required. I log into the hospital network and read the newest notes. It seems that the removal of the antibiotics too early made the TB resistant to the drug. There is another drug but it is far more expensive and they don’t have it at the hospital.

I text the bishop on our special connection. Pay for and get the drug, Delamanid. It is expensive and the treatment cost can be as high as eighty thousand pesos. It is your church that makes this necessary. Do it NOW.

An answer comes back.

Yes, Master.

There is nothing more I can do about this. I see the messages to secure the needed meds and follow up messages regarding that the meds are on the way but it must be flown in as there is none of this medication in the city. The docs are not saying it will work, but they are saying it is the only option left open to them.

I need to relax. I am surely not feeling relaxed now, but there are times when things do seem to come as they are needed.

The cleaning of my rooms this afternoon takes a turn that I have not expected. I am still looking at messaging traffic around four in the afternoon when all three girls appear before me.

Erlyn has an impish smile on her face as she tells me, Master, I think you need to come with us.

They are a team! I can feel it. They sense that they all need each other to deal with me. Each doesn’t think she is pretty enough, or smart enough to compete with the females who came before. But there were never three of them before. They see that as their great advantage and one they want to exploit.

It really isn’t necessary. Each of them alone would, in another time and place, have been a wonderful companion.

OK, why?

Our job is to make you happy, di ba?

Yes, sure.

So come! It is time we do our job.

Give me a sec and I will join you in the bedroom.

I text the bishop. Visit with the new doctors and explain in graphic detail why the woman was taken off her meds and what has happened to the two doc and the priest for trying to kill her. Tell them, that their only hope is to do what is right. They may not run from treating the woman or they will suffer as assuredly as if they tried to kill her.

The text back says, Yes Master.

The girls are waiting for me, but there is a surprise for me in the room as well. The portraits of some my most beautiful companions, as based on the eyes of these three girls, are now hanging on the walls. Among them is Francine’s mother.

I think I see both pride and fear on each of the three youthful faces. They like what they have done, but are afraid of my reaction to the same. I freely admit being a little surprised. Does that surprise them? If they thought I was all knowing, what do they think now?

What do I think now? I am not sure. I like their initiative. I like the respect they have afforded these women. No companion of mine ever has been as gracious as these three are now. Am I ready to see Francine’s mother’s visage so frequently? Maybe I should get ready. Is that the underlying message here? Is that the subtext to all of this?

I look into each of these girls. Yes, that is it. She is to be honored and not hidden. My failure should not lessen her importance. They are right. Good for them.

I like what you have done with the room. Thank you.

Gone is the fear. Happiness and pride reign. I am quickly surrounded and undressed, as coordinated by a hive mind.

I am escorted to my own bed and asked to lie on my back. A cloth is draped over my face and the assault begins. I feel a mouth on my spear, and one each on my nipples. Hands massage my temples and I drift in a state of euphoria. Time vanishes, gravity ends, I float in wet delicious warmth. I am not thinking. I am simply existing, happily existing.

But at some point the girls have decided that it is time for completion and I am rolled over and on top of Mirafe. I enter the girl and find her arms pulling my face down to hers as she pushes her tongue into my mouth as her pelvis flexes up to take me in more completely.

Her cunt is wet and hot. It feels like it is running a fever. Her legs wrap around me. I pull my head back and lifting my torso up, Mirafe rises with me. I pound us down hard onto the mattress, pushing her ass deep into springs that have no choice but to give way.

I lift us up again and smash us down. I repeat the act over and over.

Swinging an arm out I grab Amelae and bring her face to mine and bite down on her lower lip, I move my hand and two fingers enter her cunt and smash against her G-spot. Two girls are cumming.

I roll off Mirafe, grab Erlyn, toss her on top of Mirafe and take my youngest girl like a dog. Smashing her down against Mirafe as I pound her cunt from above.

Eventually I take pity on the girl and give her my seed, before rolling back onto the mattress and resting for a good twenty minutes.

My mind is wandering down other paths. I am thinking about Francine. I will not allow Amelae’s mother to suffer the fate I allowed Francine’s mother to face. I will not fail again. It is time to shake things up. That much is clear. These priests and pastors need to hit a few walls.

I return to the work area, but there is little movement on any front.

When I come to the table for dinner, it is clear that something is bothering Aina.

Aina, what is troubling you?

You not hear the news? You are supposed to know everything!

That again? Really? OK, be angry with me, but tell me what has you so upset.

You kill my priest!

What? What are you talking about?

The priest you send away from me. He dead. It say he commit suicide. I not believe it.

Who said he committed suicide?

I hear it on the radio. They say he try to kill a woman and he caught. So he kill himself instead of going to jail.

What is this priest’s name?

Cruz. Why you ask? You already know this!

I didn’t. Yes I know Cruz did something very bad. I know exactly what he did. It had nothing to do with you.

What you mean? What he do?

He tried to kill Amelae’s mother.

Amelae screams. Mirafe and Erlyn gasp. Aina looks terrified.

Amelae, when I told you that there was a problem with your mother’s medications, it was because Cruz told the doctors to remove the meds from her and allow her to die as it was “god’s will.” The doctors did it. I found out what they did and intervened. Your mother is being treated with new powerful drugs to prevent her immediate death. The two doctors are dead and evidently so is the priest.

Amelae looks at me with a steely gaze. She is angry but not at me. Who kill the doctors?

The PNP.

Good! Good. This priest, how he know to kill himself?

I am not sure, but I think his bishop told him it was required.

Hala!1 OK, good. Master, you keep your word. You protect me and my mother. She looks at Aina. Your priest tried to murder my mother. You should go! He is your priest. He means more to you than we do. Go!

Amelae, Aina could not have known Cruz would do this. You are wrong for telling her to go.

Why? She call him, ‘Her priest!’ Master! That is enough. She has chosen.

It’s too soon Amelae. Aina, do you agree, it is too soon?

But Aina says something that we are not expecting. What if it was God’s will, and you interfered?

There are many answers to that. Priests always say that God’s will is unknowable. So no priest can claim to know it. By making the statement, he is making himself god. Next, if it was god’s will and I interceded I am more powerful than is god. Finally, any god who capriciously wants people killed isn’t much of a god to be admired.

But you wanted the doctors and the priest killed! How that different?

I did not ask for the doctors to be killed when they were. But it is true that I would have seen them dead if Amelae’s mother died. They attempted murder. The PNP did that on their own. The priest I did want killed. Priests are a special class of hypocrite. And it was the priest who decided that Amelae’s mother should be killed. I passed judgment on a man who ordered a murder. That is justice. I didn’t kill him. But I did set the stage for him to know he had to do it. Now Aina, I was going to tell you that it’s time for you to come to grips with who is more powerful. But your mind cannot accept it. The results should you try to accept reality will make you useless for me and it will destroy your mind. I didn’t see it until this last question you asked. But Amelae is correct. It is time for you to go.

You deny me the right to choose? What if I want to give you my soul?

You mean sell it?

No give it. Will you, can you, say no?

Why would you want to do that?

You are evil and more powerful than good. You are the devil. I choose to give my soul to the devil!

Then you really must go.

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Re: English Novel - Soul by very well aged

Unread post by sexy » 06 Dec 2016 14:12

Chapter 16: Consequences

Why?

Because I said so.

But I want to stay!

OK, so tell me why you want to stay.

You are more powerful than Jesus.

There is no Jesus, Aina. I told you that, but you really will never believe it. You truly do believe in Jesus. There is nothing I can do to change your mind. You need to think I am the devil, even though there is no devil, because your mind cannot accept any other possibility.

If you are not God you must be the Devil!

Aina, God and Devil are the same thing. They are the two sides of the same coin. It is a coin that has nothing to do with me.

They not the same! They are at war with each other!

Yes I know that is what you were taught. I know you believe it. That is why you must leave. Those whose souls are bound to the devil or to god, go to the other side. I cannot claim them. They are true believers. If you truly believe that you are giving your soul to the devil, I don’t get it. The priests who think their soul may go to the devil actually have doubts. You don’t. So there is no choice, you need to go.

But I will give you my soul!

No, child, in your heart you will be giving it to the devil. I am not the devil.

WHAT ARE YOU?!?!?!

Aina, you need to go.

NO!

Aina, listen to me. I am worried about you. It is not safe for you to stay here.

WHY! What are you?

I am a collector of souls. I told you that.

Only God and Devil collect souls. Why you say you not them! You always say this! I not believe it! Why you say such a thing?

Aina if I go into your head to show you, there is a good chance that your mind will fall apart. It is called catatonic, though I am not sure that is something that makes any sense to you right now. But, if I try to show you, you may end up sitting in a room, just rocking back and forth until you die. I don’t want to do that to you. It is best if you just leave. I cannot use words to show you. For you there are no words that will work.

Show me!

No. I do not want to hurt you.

Show me, or I will tell all the priests about you! Ha! Yes, I will not be silent!

Are you trying to blackmail me?

You say you will hurt me if I tell? OK hurt me and show me. Maybe I survive. If not, I not able to tell anyone, di ba? So do it. Show me.

She is a real pain in the ass. She is also right, to the extent that I do not want her talking. The likelihood is that I will turn her into a vegetable, but I may not. Or she might go into a fugue state for a period of time and emerge from it. I can’t know. It is free will.

My three souls look stricken. I can’t blame them. I am not happy.

Very well Aina. Say goodbye to the world as you know it. If you ever see the world again, it will be a different one. You may never see anything again. This is your choice. You have asked for it. I give you two hours to clean up, toilet and get your affairs in order. It may be the very last time you will have the opportunity in your life. Go!

Amelae, please make a large pot of coffee. I will not eat. Erlyn and Mirafe, if you two are hungry take some food with you and then go assist her. Talk to her but do not allow her to eat. I do not want her to choke on her own vomit later. Ask her if there are any things she wants to be told about, if she loses all her memories. You have two hours.

Master?

Amelae, I need to get ready and you need to be doing something, not hanging over me. When the coffee is made, eat something and then please prepare the spare room across from my work area for Aina.

Master, she has not sold you her soul. Why you allow her there?

Sweet Amelae, when I am done with her, she will either be quite mad, out of her mind, or the most obedient of all of you. I suspect one of the former possibilities. But if I am going to destroy her, I will give her the privacy that seems most decent, as her madness envelopes her and kills her from the inside out. Either way, I expect her to lose herself, and be unable to communicate for some time. We will need to nurse her.

What I am about to do is possibly the cruelest of acts. The human mind is not designed to contemplate this. I am about to, metaphorically, pull back the curtain and show Aina what she and all humans really are. I am going to show her the game board. She is going to see the collector, His Majestic Fatness, as he scoops up the souls as they slip from the vessels that contain them. She will see herself, and those around her, as the vessels they are. And when I am done, what will be left of Aina? What will she be? She has demanded I take her soul. I am obligated to do it, but I can’t until her mind is adjusted. This is the nightmare scenario I never want and try to avoid. I should never have taken this one from the control of the priest. Better to have let him kill her, than my doing so.

Amelae has the room prepared. I ask her to keep a carafe of coffee filled for me in the room, but not to try talk to me or communicate with me until I leave the room.

Master, how long will this be?

It is not something that happens quickly.

Maybe two days. I am not sure. Each mind is different. If it ends sooner, it will be because Aina’s mind has shattered.

You will be with her for two days, in that room and all you want is coffee?

Oh, I could drink water, but yes I prefer the coffee. It is an indulgence, if you will allow the sick pun.

I do not understand.

Never mind, it is hardly important.

An hour later I am in the room. Aina appears, escorted by her two guides. She is dressed and has a determined aspect.

Remove your clothing.

Why? Will you give me a child now?

No, I will not touch you. But for what we are about to do, your clothing would be a problem. Take them off. Mirafe, will take them from you. You will never wear clothing inside this house again.

The girl disrobes. While she is not as painfully thin as she had been when she first arrived here, she is still not robust. She is not juicy. That makes what we are about to engage in all the more troubling. Still the recent weight gain, may prove a boon.

I ask all three souls to leave me alone with Aina, who is currently sitting on a chair.

Are you ready?

What are you going to do to me?

I am going to show you who your god and your Jesus really are. I am going to show you, what you really are. I am going to rip all that you know out of your mind so that it can perceive the game in which you are but a simple pawn. If you survive, you will be a loyal servant to me. If you do not survive, you will sit in your own filth and rock in that chair all the days following this one until you die.

You are going to kill me?

No Aina, you have demanded I kill you or make your mind see what it is incapable of seeing now. I asked you to leave and you refused. This is entirely your doing. I will show your mind what it seems to be unable to fathom on its own. Whether you stay sane, go insane, or die, is out of my control. It has to do with free will.

See you are the Devil!

Ah, that again. No, the devil is a construct, just as god is. These are two sides of the same coin. To believe in one who represents divine goodness, you need to believe in the other who represents divine evil. That is the “Christian god concept.” The Jews do not have a devil because their god is not divine goodness. Their god concept is both good and evil. They believe they have to pray each year to be allowed to live another year! That is why your church tells you that the god of the Jews was a vengeful god and yours is one of salvation. I am not part of that nonsense.

She spits out, So! You are going to show me the truth?

No, I am going to show you, what is not the truth. I am wasting my time. She will never get it, no matter what I say. Ah, but you do not believe me. All I can do is show your mind. So here we go…

Her eyes flash wide open, and then, she screams. It is excruciatingly painful for her, as I move in and start ripping away the artifice. You think you are naked, when you disrobe? Ha! That is not really naked, this is naked. When your mind faces what it, under normal circumstances, is designed to never see, and there you are, defenseless, alone, and exposed, you are truly naked. I am not kind. There is no way to be kind.

She is whimpering. She gasps. She sits silently sobbing. I take her on a journey. It is not a fast thing. It must be absorbed, or her brain will fight back and reject that which it has been shown. The human brain is programmed to deny some things. I have to override that, to force it to see what it will not willingly see.

Human time is lost to me now as I take her on her journey.

My senses smell shit. She must have defecated. I ignore it and continue on the journey.

I think I hear her trying to retch, but her belly is empty, it will be dry heaves. Still the acrid aroma of stomach acids reaches me. We continue on.

Now she is moaning, pleading, No, please, no… Oh, no, no, no,… how? But why? … No! no. no, no…

I press on. I am sad, sad for her. She should have left peaceably and lived a life without this torment. I wish such pain on no one. It is, simply, and by definition, inhuman. That is a tautology, but could not be truer, even if it were intended as hyperbole.

For the moment, she lives. Her brain is stronger than I expected. That is both good and bad. It means I have to work harder to rip out the mythical constructs. It means that her defenses were stronger, and we have to go at this far longer. It means she is enduring more pain, it may just possibly mean she will survive, but not that she will be sane. That is unknowable now. Only time will tell.

I back out of her mind and reenter the human world. She is a mess, but I can see signs that my three souls have washed her and cleaned around her. The carafe by my side has some hot coffee in it and my cup is half filled. She sits there. Her eyes open and peering out to something beyond her and not here. She is motionless.

I get up and walk out of the room. I shower, change my clothing and leave my private rooms. The girls are sitting at the dining table. It is evening outside.

Hungry, Master? Erlyn has a look on her face of incredulity.

I guess a little. Are you OK, Erlyn? Why the ‘off’ expression?

You know how long you take?

No. I think it must have been a while, but, no, how long?

Three days. You were in there for three days. We force her to take water by putting it on her lips. We afraid she will die! We afraid you will die, even though we know you not die. You not eat for three days. And you not very hungry? What about her?

I am not sure she will eat. Make her some broth and take it to her.

Amelae, gets up and says she will do it. Mirafe says she will put a plate together for me. I reach out for Erlyn’s hand and she quickly proffers it.

Master, will Aina survive?

I think she will live. I do not know if she will be sane.

When we know it?

If there comes a time that she ends the walled off, non-communicative state she is in, she will either be quite mad, or dangerously and murderously violent, or she will be sane, but different. I do not hold out hope for the latter.

Why?

It is just not the likely outcome.

When will we know?

There is no telling. Someone will need to be with her at all times from now on. … Tell me, have we heard anything about the bishops?

Wala pa1.

Mirafe returns with a plate of food. I eat some. Rarely am I tired, but what I have done, has exhausted me. I pick around at my food, eat a bit more and retire to my bedroom, to sleep for a couple of hours before entering the work area to check on things. As tired as I am, I am concerned about Amelae’s mother and I need to know what is happening with the bishops.

I log into the hospital network, and look at the SMS messages between the docs treating her. The new meds appear to be working. She won’t die now, at least. The docs are patting themselves on the back. The bishop has texted me. It came a day ago. It is a supplication. I do not need to answer it.

With the bishop who was causing problems, I watch as things move toward completion. It has taken three days. But as of now I can see things are about to come to a conclusion.

Two hours later and about half an hour before the act, I send out a broadcast to all the bishops less the one who will likely die. This is a token payment for failure to do as instructed. I am watching all of you.

That evening the late news programs lead with a story of a mentally unstable man shooting a bishop before killing himself. Later reporting indicates the man was a congregant in a church where the bishop was the local priest many years ago. No motive is known.

Text traffic between the bishops and the PNP is frantic. But there is nothing to indicate the gunman had any accomplices. As the gunman is dead, there is nothing to follow up. The SMS text is not mentioned. One of the reasons is it is from a dead priests phone and the SIM is in police custody. No one wants to mention that.

I send out another text. How many of you want to die? Do as instructed or perish.

A number of bishops send texts back with questions that amount to, ‘who are you?’ I don’t respond.

Within hours, two bishops have committed suicide, unable to accommodate what is occurring. Other bishops are busy communicating with their priests. We will see how things progress.

I poke my head into the room that Aina now occupies. Amelae has her lying on the bed and is lying next to her. Both are asleep.

I return to my work area. There is a text from ‘my’ bishop. Rome asks to talk with you, I give them this number. Please do not be angry. I say nothing in return.

I look at the bishop’s call, text and IP logs. I can see who he has been talking with in Rome. I do not reach out. I dig. I want to know who this guy’s family is. I look for vulnerabilities.

It is so easy! I have a basket of fruit from which to pick. I choose three ripe fruits. I set things in motion, and at the same time, I wait. I don’t have to wait long. The text is angry, threatening, demanding and at the same time dismissive. It is curious how much of a buffoon, and puffed up pontificator each of these guys are.

Fool, I will rain down on yours, now. Consider this a warning. Stay out of this or all will feel my wrath. In the next 48 hours, things will befall your loved ones. Just be thankful none will die. It could have been far worse. Threaten me again and it *will* be far worse. You are nothing. Beware of who you threaten.

I see email traffic from the Cardinal to the bishop. “Have this man arrested!” The email back says, “How I tell police to arrest smoke or fog? Not a man!”

The Cardinal replies, “This is a parlor trick! It is only a man!”

A few hours later, it is time for some fun. I can see someone approaching the Cardinal’s rooms. CCTV is a wonderful thing. It is a nephew who has the problem I created for him a few hours ago. I send a text to the Cardinal, Knock, knock, let your nephew in. Twenty seconds later, that is exactly what is happening at his door. Thirty minutes later, his nephew is still with him. I suspect things are getting ugly. But I am not done.

His younger sister has just received very bad news and it says the Cardinal was the cause. She tries to call him, but I make the SS7 signaling indicate a busy condition. I send him a text, Ring, ring, your sister is calling. I allow her next attempt to go through.

I wait until I see the call ends, and send, Enjoy her call? This is just the beginning. I will rain pain down on all you know. There is one more yet to come in the next forty hours. Each will believe it is you who is doing this. I can and will do this, and far more, to you and to the entire church, or you can stand back. I have plans for your congregants in the Philippines. When it is done, I will have no further need of you or your church unless you interfere further. Choose.

I get a reply. All you want is to shut down that other church’s solicitation game?

Yes.

OK. I will order the bishops to comply. No more!

When I see the results, I will end your misery and not before.

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