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The Believer

By Deividas Borodulinas All Rights Reserved ©

Mystery / Scifi

Chapter 1

The dead keep no secrets from me. My wife is no exception, the once fertile blossoming flower now only an ugly lump of flesh lying in front of me. I will go home and she will rot in the desert. Just another infidel killed by my hard working hands. Taking life had always been easy for me, much easier than being lied in the face.

"Life should be all about having fun," she often said. She loved to laugh and smile and using her stupid jokes often tried to force a smile on my face too. I hated it and I hated her. I needed a woman to bear children, bring food from the fields and clean the house, not some wannabe sunshine. The light of my life was the faith I have carried in my heart since I was a child. It was the God, his signs and the ever watching eye in the sky that gave purpose and joy to my life, not some lousy woman.

My daughters should not repeat the same mistake as I did and choose insiders as their husbands. Only the members of our tribe were pure. Everyone else was lying scum. Till the last moment I hoped my wife would show her faith and call out to our God before her death. She did not. My grandfather was right. She, her sister, her brother, and her whole family were fakers. I learned it the hard way. People lie, but not in the face of death.

The desert brought many wanderers. They lied and tricked, pretended to accept our faith so we would allow them to stay. We have crops and wells around the town. With the discipline, the utmost care for crops, and the calculated rations life blossoms here, while everywhere else it slowly fades away.

We usually did not let visitors stay, nor did we let them go away and tell about us. Accepting a group of desert wanderers to live among us, was our greatest mistake.

It was my grandfather, our elder who came to the brilliant idea of getting rid of the non-believers. Before they came to us the miracles of God were present. The signs, the flying stars scorched the skies every night. Each year, on the longest night the lights would take one of the elderly away. It had been ten years, the same age as my daughters since this had not happened. When stars rarely fall, the faith fades. When no one gets taken, the population grows, and the food gets scarce.

We needed to make a move. After this bloody night, everything should be back to how it has always been. Everything should return to normal.

I walk the desert back home. Here on my left lies my wife's brother with a knife sticking out of his back. A few meters away her sister is breathing heavily and slowly. Choking on her own blood. I whistle a tune that suits well to celebrate this cleansing. With a concealed smile I pick up my pace and run.

I feel the air tickling my cheeks, I can see a star falling down far in the horizon. I can see a star falling above our village. They are greeting us. They are coming back.

Passing another hill I begin hearing shouts. Soon they turn into screams. On top of another hill I see my town on fire, people burning, running away, falling on the ground and screaming.

The God's eye hovering above our little town flashes lights to all directions. The lights hit the roofs, the crops. Everything burns.

What was the meaning of this? My people should have been taken up to be the servants of the God, not decimated like insects. The countless sacrifices they made, the prayers they said. Has it all been for nothing?

When I get to the town, there is no one left alive but fire dancing from house to house, reaching up. There is a man standing in the middle of our square emitting a bright white aura. He waves me to come closer. I do.

He tells me, not by words. His voice echoes in my head, "You do not deserve this oasis. We thought you learned peace as you invited the group of people from the desert to live among you. Your elders told us you were learning to share. We thought it was fine to leave you alone. We were wrong. The genocide your people carry on the last survivors of this planet is inexcusable."

I feel pain in my chest and fall. It is not the caring warmth that takes me, but loneliness and cold. I got no clue what awaits me, but I know that I did not deserve such end.

.

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