Monday, July 31, 2006
New Beginning 22
The masses had received the Lord’s blessing and had confessed for transgressions against their fellow man. With a cacophony of strained voices, they had praised the Lord with song, and had begged forgiveness for the inborn sins of their self-righteous souls. And as the church bells pealed, dismissing the congregation, Paine Robertson slipped out the door like the serpent out of Eden.
He walked across the dirt road to the freshly-swept porch of Fillmore’s Leathers, plopped down on the wooden planks and waited for his foster parents to finish mingling with the rest of the Lord’s flock. Like lambs to the proverbial slaughter, the parishioners waited to speak with the Reverend Chapman, thanking him for his eloquent sermon about the evils of magic. It was a message Paine thought typical of the new Church of the Ascension and of the good Reverend who brought it all the way from the Confederation.
The Confederation. That unholy alliance of the proverbial blind leading the proverbial blind to the proverbial forbidden fruit. Paine suspected that the Church of the Ascension held the proverbial key. That was why Reverend Chapman preached against magic as though it were the proverbial original sin. The Confederation feared magic. And Paine knew how to use it.
He was the proverbial prodigal son, except no one had prepared him a feast with the proverbial fatted calf. How did that African proverb go? A weapon which you don't have in your hand won't kill a snake. He pulled out his wand and sent a bolt of lightning through the reverend's heart. A weapon which you do have in your hand, he thought, will.
Continuation: Nancy Conner/Evil Editor