There were no longer two sides to a coin. Equality was history. The best of times disappeared in a fog of lies and folks talked about the inevitable end and a King they never elected who was walking the streets with no clothes on, but everyone pretended not to notice.
Clowns masqueraded as government officials and the Turkey Vulture was named the national bird after the White House was moved to Florida.
Scarlet streamers, flags and memes streaked through society scattered with communities stocked with sheep meekly walking to the slaughter in the name of tarnished patriotism and false piety.
Fallow fields, once places of education, crisscrossed across the country echoing days long gone when the earth was still round and people could tell what was real and what wasn’t.
Neon lights proclaiming the Coming of Mardock competed with signs promising salvation through Jesus Christ and his seven little trolls. Message billboards with an orange-faced man polluted every highway promoting the dear leader’s latest grift.
Environmental safeguards were jettisoned off of Niagara Falls like a herd of lunatic lemmings leaping to their deaths because they knew the planet was doomed.
Doomsday speakers on street corners attracted crowds that expected a good show while they wallowed in conspircies and dived into disinformation like moles on the make.
Reason was ruthlessly crushed by people living in bubbles and alternate universes where right was wrong and wrong was right and no one saw the light.
A cloud of despair hung in the air as people hurried to jobs they hated in order to make money that the government took back in the form of numerous taxes that went to greedy politicians who divided them according to a special pecking order.
There were no sanctuaries for people of color who lived in the ruins created by racists who dreamed of an all-white Christmas 365 days a year.
If you listen closely, sometimes you can hear a fragile voice calling out from the shadows… “Where has love gone?“
He looked at the valley below from a perch high in the observation tower on the mountain top and smiled grimly. What a bunch of fools he thought while nibbling on a still hot crunchy craterburger.
There are worse jobs than mine Jax reassured himself while sipping on a sonic soda through his second mouth. It was boring watching these stupid humans in a constant state of warfare since they emerged from caves and built cities to lay siege to. At first it was amusing watching humans chase and kill large animals that often killed their pursuers in the primordial landscapes seething with dangerous creatures. But as the centuries crawled by Jax’s amusement turned to disgust as so-called civilizations slaughtered each other in an eternal quest for absolute power.
“I could have ended up as a prison guard on Neptune or Saturn,” Jax said out loud, once again praising his decision to be an Observer for a planet – in this case Earth. A prison job would have been like living in an eternal hell.
If it wasn’t for his exceptionally high-test scores Jax would have been drafted into the Space Core Fleet and doomed to endless battles with other world’s war fleets. It was as bad as the stupid humans but intensified times ten with the deadly technology being used among the intergalactic adversaries. Not me he told himself when he applied for the relatively safe position of an Observer at the Royal Court in Mars’ capitol city of Helicum.
Jax’s brain ceased dredging up memories when his attention was drawn to a massive explosion and flash of light that turned the sky white. He quickly touched a button on the side of his helmet that shielded his eyes while automatically sealing his whole body in a protective bubble. The air shook with a thunderous roar that spiraled high into the sky knocking birds senseless and blinding any creatures below within eyesight of the explosion. The earth shuddered and wept poisonous gas into the atmosphere. Jax gulped. His craterburger hit like lead in his gut and he felt like he was going to throw it up. What had happened? What did those fool humans unleash now? Anger crawled up his scaly neck that turned a vivid red hue as he considered the implications. His suddenly safe job was suddenly looking shaky!
Back at the Royal Court in Mars.
“So,” the King asked his prime minister, “Did you know that earth was scheduled to be obliterated this week?”
The prime minister slyly smirked. He always hated and envied Jax and when the opportunity arose for revenge, he used his position of power to assign him to earth whose last day (he knew) was fast approaching. But he couldn’t tell the king that. Unbeknown to the sneaky prime minister however the king was aware of his hatred of Jax (his nephew) and strongly suspected he set him up. That was the reason the king had sent Jax the protective bubble helmet (normally only for combat personnel) when he heard about his new assignment. It was time the king decided, to teach the prime minister a lesson.
“No! No! Your majesty! By the time I discovered earth’s fate it was too late!
“Is that so?” the king asked. “Well then I’ll go ahead and give you a promotion that you well deserve.”
“Thank you sire!” the weasel-faced prime minister blurted out.
“Effective tomorrow you are going to have the privilege of securing an off-planet position as a rotating prison riot guard between Neptune and Saturn,” declared the king with a big open smile.
Nestled in the in Pennsylvania’s southern section of the Blue Ridge Mountains in 1923 was a little town called Johnsonville which had a pastor who distilled the best moonshine in five counties.
Some say the parishioners who attended his Church of God were regular alcoholics who would have their sins absolved every Sunday by the benevolent man of God who called himself the high priest Elijah the Saved. Two-thirds of the town’s residents of 600 people were regular church goers. The halleluiahs rang every Sunday from the church’s roof top with enthusiasm while the towns other third of the population hunkered down and whispered dark rumors about Elijah having a still. It didn’t seem right to them.
There were two important ingredients essential to making Elijah’s whiskey. One was water. In this part of Pennsylvania that was rich with limestone the water was clean and free of impurities that can alter the taste. The other ingredient was a secret known only to Elijah. His still was located just outside the town limits and was on the forest’s edge. A river ran through the forest for miles providing the required water for his spirits.
One of Elijah’s favorite sermons, repeated every few weeks, was about the holy spirit. It would be helpful to point out that what Elijah preached was far from most known religions. The attendees were Holy Rollers, Snake handlers, and talked in tongues. All distrusted the government and any strangers that came to town. Not that there were that many.
One day a young man with bright red hair came to Johnsonville from another county nearby. He had heard about the preacher’s exceptional moonshine and wanted to taste it and perhaps steal his recipe. He arrived on a Sunday and attended the church service from the back of the room where he could discreetly study the preacher and his followers. Friends and relatives advised him to stay away from there because the town had a murky reputation of outsiders disappearing from there. After the service he approached Elijah and praised his message.
“Would you like to join us at the community center? We serve a lunch blessed by my holy spirits that will save you from eternal damnation.”
“Thank you!” the young man said politely.
The first sip took the young man’s breath away and he struggled to remain calm. He never tasted moonshine like this before. There was a hint of some ingredient he couldn’t identify, and it bothered him. He came from a long line of moonshiners and prided himself on his knowledge of spirits and how to make them palatable. He hardly noticed the simple fare of ribs, beans, potatoes, and thick slices of homemade bread. Afterwards he thanked Elijah and asked him where he might find a place to stay overnight and possibly for a few days.
Elijah’s piercing blue eyes seemed to light up for a moment and then he smiled. “There’s a little room in the back of the church with a bed in it. You can stay there if you like,” he offered.
The next morning the young man found a tiny restaurant in the center of town. While he ate his fried eggs, thick slices of ham, and still warm bread, he thought about where he might find the preacher’s still. It didn’t take him long after that before he discovered the still on the outskirts of town concealed among trees and bushes. It wasn’t that hard to find which made him think that no one ever bothered the preacher’s still. Not even government men. It was just too easy to find which oddly troubled him. As he looked at the setup, he noticed an extremely large condenser and copper distiller. There were a couple of other oddities that made him wonder just what was being distilled there. Before he could inspect the layout any further, he heard footsteps and quickly concealed himself among some nearby thick bushes.
The high priest known as Elijah the Saved came into the little clearing and went right up to the copper condenser. Kneeling he used a hook to pull out a pan from the bottom and began pulling bones out carefully and putting them in a gunnysack. When the young man saw the skull, his heartbeat instantly increased. His secret ingredient was humans! As the horror dawned on him, he panicked and bolted out from the bushes heading deep into the forest’s bowels.
Folks from Ginnery County, where the young man was from, thought he’d gone crazy. He told his story to anyone who’d listen, but no one paid him any heed. A preacher making moonshine out of human bodies? They were sure he had alcohol poisoning or simply slipped a cog when running into a tree or something.
The next Sunday service in Johnsonville.
“The holy spirit comes to us in wonderous ways my flock. Sinners can be saved here in Johnsonville by sipping spirits and forgiving them their trespasses.”
The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff 