| Author: |
Scott Brochu |
| Dated: |
Friday, December 10 2010 @ 01:55 AM EST |
| Viewed: |
3074 times |
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My Grandfather was murdered at the ripe old age of sixty five. The death sent ripples through our community, because he had been a cornerstone of it for so long. A devoted follower of the Imperater, he had been one of the last to remember the Dark Times, before the Gods had been properly worshipped.
He drilled into our heads the proper way to act like true followers of the Imperater, and how to protect the world from the rebels who wanted it sliding back into the Dark Times.
The memorial was one of the largest events our village had ever seen. One of the Imperater’s men had even come from the capital to pay homage to my Grandfather’s life. As his ashes were taken through the streets to be placed in the crypts under the All-Father Atlock’s chapel, many people lined the walkways, dressed in the best of their threadbare clothes to pay my Grandfather respect. He had been a good man, well respected and loved by everyone.
When we entered the crypt, I couldn’t help but shed a tear for him, even though I knew it was unmanly of me. As the ashes were lowered into the hole, the Imperater’s man gave a speech on the need to stay ever vigilante against….well, I wasn’t really paying attention. I was trying to fight my grief and guilt; trying not to let it show on my face. I guess the shock was still very fresh in my mind.
After the burial, I managed to get away from all the adults trying to say how sorry they were, and how great my Grandfather was.
I ran and hid in my favourite pine tree, an old and gnarled thing that grew close to the river. We used to go there and fish, my Grandfather and I, when he wasn’t busy working or teaching for the Imperator. I could almost see my Grandfather, looking up at me and demanding that I come down at once. It scared me.
I jumped from the old pine, and ran away from the memory. I ran, and ran, until I arrived in the school yard. I sat heavily on one of the swings, panting slightly. I looked up and saw the window to my classroom.
I could remember when my Grandfather had been an honoured guest speaker, telling us about how the ideas and people of the Dark Times had been flawed.
“In those days, most people believed in one God, not like we do today.” he had said in the soft, kindly voice he used when talking to lots of people.
We had all giggled at that. Imagine, only one god to run everything. He would probably get so confused, lightning would shoot up from the ground.
“There were others that believed there were no gods at all.”
We had all gasped at that point. The very idea of there being no gods at all was, well, evil. Everyone knew that the gods controlled everything. To think otherwise was simply wrong.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to remember.
I stood and ran away. I didn’t know where I was running to, only what I was running from.
I didn’t want to stop, but I think the gods did, ‘cause soon I tripped and fell right in front of the statue of Plenus the Martyr, skinning my knee. She had given her life so that the soldiers of the Imperater could rout a hive of rebel activity, back when there had been a lot of fighting.
I looked up, and could see my Grandfather, his voice proud as he explained Plenus’ great sacrifice for the good of the Imperater.
I curled up in pain, and not ‘cause of my knee, though it was bleeding pretty badly. Tears rolled down my cheeks, even though I didn’t want them. I lay there in the gravel for a while, until I heard someone coming up behind me. I stood up and ran, tears streaked across my face.
I didn’t know where I was running, or where I was going. I just ran, and ran, and ran.
I didn’t stop until I was home, standing in the living room holding a glass of water. I stared at where my Grandfather used to sit in front of the fireplace, telling me stories of the old times, of machines that could go faster than horses, and ones that could fly.
My hand gripped the glass tighter. I looked around wildly. Everything in the room, in the house, reminded me of him. Grandfather, showing me how to tie my shoes, Grandfather telling the right way to lead a life, Grandfather here, Grandfather there.
I threw the glass of water across the room. I stormed down the stairs into the basement, into the one room I had never been allowed into until two days ago.
On that day, my Grandfather took me to all my favourite places; fishing, the Statue of Plenus, he even walked me home from school.
When we were standing in front of the Statue, I caught him looking at me strangely. It was only for a second though, and I forgot about it. It wasn’t until later, when we got home, that my Grandfather asked me if I remembered all the stories from the old times. When I said yes, he told me to follow him. I followed him downstairs, and he unlocked The Room, the one place I was never to enter. As he unlocked it, he said to me “You are twelve, almost a man now, and there is something you must know.”
He then told me things I never thought I would hear him say. The Imperater was wrong, and evil. The government was corrupt and useless. The gods really didn’t exist, but were just a way the government controlled people.
Then he opened the door, and stepped out of the way. The light fell on a thick black book with the words “Holy Bible” written on it. I gasped, it was a Heretic’s book.
There were strange models all along the shelves, long yellow things, small red things, and big white things with wings sticking out of them.
My legs went out from underneath me, and I passed out. I woke up in my own bed; it was night time. I could hear my Grandfather snoring. I walked into his room and looked at him. I knew what I had to do. I had been holding a pillow from my bed in my hands. In a few minutes, and with barely a struggle, it was over. The heretic was dead.
I snapped back to reality, kneeling in the basement surrounded by the evil items my Grandfather had collected over the years.
A tear rolled down my face.
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The secret of success of a person lies in his ability to wait his time