Friday, June 08, 2012

lucy in the sky, part 2

Writing Challenge, Day 7

The conclusion of the three-minute fiction I attempted last night. 

Confession time: this story was was inspired by a TV episode I remembered yesterday when mulling over how approach this challenge. Care to guess which TV series was it (and the episode too, if you're like geeking out)? ;-) 

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Normally she would've rolled her eyes and told the man to go fuck himself. But something in her stirred. Perhaps it was his eyes, which turned out to be green the left and blue on the right. Something about those deep-set eyes were hypnotizing. Or perhaps it was his deep voice that does sound otherworldly. She reached out her hand until her fingers touched his. There was a warm feeling that coursed from him to her. Like love, or what she thought love should feel like.

Out of nowhere, she burst into tears and collapsed into his arms. And he comforted her. Forgave her sins. And asked again if she would like to follow him. She needn't a third invitation.

She was the only woman who had followed him. Along with her, twelve young men found salvation with the master as well--men from well-to-do families with seemingly bright futures ahead, until they went astray. They were the prodigal sons; the rich young men, who, unlike the one in that parable, did end up selling their possessions to give all their wealth to the cause.

As the only woman, she had the special task of preparing for tonight's activities. Her task was simple: ensure that their transition won't be as painful to their physical bodies as possible. Her previous connections to the drug trade had served her well for this.

She found the door at the other end of the chamber and opened it. The naked, lifeless bodies lay sprawled on the floor in the large room, empty shells that signified their weaknesses and limitations in this world. They're now in a better place, she thought, as she saw her master at the center of the room, two of the youngest men in each of his arms. They looked sated, happy.

She counted the bodies, then narrowed her eyes. Twelve. One of the disciples did not join the final fellowship. Traitor, she seethed. But it's too late to worry about him now.

She went to the far end of the room to retrieve the potion bottle she made especially for her. She was fortunate enough to score the horse tranquilizer. Mixed with just the right amount of alcohol, the initial discomfort of choking and vomitting will pass.

She found herself a place on the floor, opened the bottle, and downed the concoction in three long gulps. Then, she laid herself down and waited for the stars to appear and show her the path to paradise.

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