MASKS: THE FESTIVAL OF PURGING
“I Wake, and behind my mask of oppression I see two wicked eyes glaring back at me…..”
The festival of the purging….. Rare and disturbing….. People succumbing to their inhibitions; emotions run wild, sin loosed upon the suspecting populace…..
Murder, not lost on their minds; these participants, but under normal circumstances; usually avoided…..
“Lights- out! I’ll be hearing no more of your nonsense….. Sleep it off, or I will help you to sleep it off…..”
One night’s celebration of debauchery and of rave, or of rage; depending on your state of mind before said rave, and one man of whom at one time was to be recognized as a man of the cloth; he would quickly fall from regular focus of faith.
“.…. Devils! Devils, they possess me; oh god! God, he has forsaken me!”
“Likely story! The opium you smoked, and the liquor you consumed; it has frayed your mind….. Now, shut your mouth! Or, I will shut it for you!”
“.…. He sees you, you know….. He knows, knows you fear his wrath….. Not that of gods’ vengeance; but of his judging….. King of the hell, lord of Satan’s league…..”
“That’s it! Open the cell! Maybe, my billy- club will knock some sense into him…..”
“Do it, now! Close the door behind me, and leave to quarters…..”
“Sheriff, the cameras?”
“.…. Leave them running….. Nobody cares about this murderer….. It’ll be self defense…..”
“.…. Yes- sir…..”
“.…. Now, the drugged and drunken fool you are….. What else have you, to say to me?”
“How very unwise of you to belie your trust on so idealistic the faith….. Six years, six months, six days….. Only seconds left until Satan has his say…..”
The Sheriff, lost control of his temperament, and raised his right hand in rage. His black lacquered hard wood truncheon of a baton, slightly quivering; as thoughts of a past involvement in allegations of police brutality returned to take hold his senses.
“Raise not thine hand against my servant!”
“Bah! You, you’ll not frighten me….. Take this, you drunken idiot!” The Sheriff growled low, as he motioned forward with his punishment: two reserved slams to the prisoners’ right and left legs, and one loosed blow to the back of the prisoner’s head. The unidentified man, now a pummeled boxing bag crumpled to the cell’s floor.
“.…. Now, maybe; you will watch your mouth!” The Sheriff spat, panting heavily. This one black arm of the law, just under the obvious state of identified obesity. “You abominate prick of a preacher- man, you!”
Unexpected to the Sheriff, words slowly rise from the mouth of the unconscious prisoner; the Sheriff froze in the threshold of the now open cell gateway.
“Fat little pig of a man….. You should know by now, to stay your tongue around me!”
The cell gate pulled free from the grip of the Sheriff’s right hand, slamming closed; causing the Sheriff to stumble backward with a start. The iron hasp and latch burning red from the raising of a focused heat. The Sheriff screamed aloud, his voice carried in less than a manly delivery; on sight of the prisoner, as he turned back around; his body trembling, as fear began to take hold his compulsions. The prisoner’s eyes flared with cinders of flame. His neck, previously broken from the Sheriff’s brutality now resetting itself with a resounding series of cracks before his eyes.
The cell floor trembled and cracked. Gasses and flame bursting forth from beneath. The Sheriff now consumed by a ring of rising flame.
“Burn now, black arm of the anti- law! For the devil, he has seen of your many sins….. Let Hell have you, for no forgiveness will ever change you from the deep rooted wickedness you conceal….. The true evil, that lies within…..”
Explosions of spontaneous combustion ignited from the boots of the Sheriff’s particular choice: lambskin lacquered hide, adorned in a southwestern style. Fire alarms rang, as the smoke from the human incineration slowly reached the battery operated sensors.
The prisoner now stood, as an embodiment of burning flame. The iron bars of the cell meant to keep him incarcerated bend to his grip. Flaming prints scorch the tiled floor, as the prisoner exited the cell, making way to the freedom of the darkened streets.
Screams arose from the station, as fire rapidly consumed all those left within. The man known as Alan Samuel Maudeas, through clear his burning robes. The fallacy of his once chosen faith, now fallen upon belief in another.
The devil Asmodeus has risen, and his minions will one day raise the blazes of an unholy inferno upon the earth….. Where man once ruled, devils and demons will take reign.
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