The Disciples
The thirteen cloaked figures walked along the path. Somewhere beyond the thick layer of trees that surrounded them, the setting sun cast just enough light to guide the Disciples’ way. That’s what they called themselves – that’s what the new world has called them for three-hundred years – The Disciples. Each walked the path in silence, six in the front, and six in the rear. In the center, a solitary figure was being lead along by a length of rope that ended in a tight binding around the hands.
Each of the Disciples carried with them, a long staff. The bottoms of the staffs were tipped in iron, the top wrapped in a tear-dropped shaped piece of cloth. When they reached the clearing at the end of the path the day was almost gone. The line of travelers paused before entering the clearing. The first of the Disciples used an ancient looking Zippo lighter with a crucifix etched into the side of it to light the first torch. Once the first torch was ablaze, the first Disciple tilted the tip of his torch to the second Disciple to ignite theirs, and so it went down the line until all of the torches were lit.
In the center of the clearing a large cross-shaped altar lay adorned with red and gold fabrics and a large, smoothed-out rock at the base with a circular hole at its center. Surrounding the cross-shaped altar, eleven more smoothed-out rocks were spread out at even intervals. The line of silent travelers entered the clearing single-file, made a circular path around the altar, and stopped in front of the rocks – one at each. A single figure broke off and approached the altar. When the Disciple reached the altar’s base, the lit torch in his hands was raised high into the air.
“May the lord be with you,” He said.
“And also with you,” the eleven other Disciples answered.
“Greetings, brothers and sisters,” the head Disciple, the one that the rest of the congregation called Father, said “We meet here tonight because another threat to our existence has come to light.” He raised his hand and pointed to the woman with the bag over her head. “This woman has been touched by Lucifer!”
“Lucifer; touched by Lucifer,” the congregation said in perfect unison. “Lucifer, touched by Lucifer…”
Father raised his hands to command silence. All at once, the congregation ceased chanting.
“For over three hundred years, we’ve worshipped the almighty faithfully. In return for our faith, God has made real the prophecy of the Thousand Year Rein. We have survived without disease or hunger. We’ve been completely held above all natural beings on this planet. Savior Jackson was given to us as promised – the resurrected son of God.”
“God bless Jackson…God bless Jackson,” the congregation said.
“I know that some of you think that we should wait for Savior Jackson’s return to carry out our responsibility to him and to God, but I say that justice cannot wait. We cannot put salvation on hold until Savior Jackson returns from Asia. What say you?”
“Aye,” the congregation said.
“So say you all?”
“Aye, so say we all.”
Father raised his torch again to the night sky and made the sign of the cross with it in the air before him. Then, he slid it into the perfect, round hole in the center of the smoothed out rock. As soon as his torch was set in place, the rest of the congregation did the same with their torches.
“Who brings the accused before us?” Father said.
The Disciple directly in front of Father stepped forward, pulling the accused woman behind.
“It is I,” the Disciple said from beneath the darkened hood of her cloak, “Sister Angela.”
“Bless you, Sister…bless you sister,” the congregation said.
“What proof do you offer? Bring it forth,” Father said.
Sister Angela pulled the bound woman forward until they were standing a couple of feet away from Father. She reached down and pulled up the loose sleeve of the captive’s cloak.
“She’s been marked by the beast!” Sister Angela said, holding up the woman’s arm so that Father could get a better view. A thick line of healthy flesh ran down the center of the woman’s arm, but the flesh all around the healthy skin was greyish in color and decayed.
“It’s not my fault,” the woman said. “It was like that when I woke this morning. I made no deal with Lucifer, I swear.”
“Oh she made a deal all right,” Sister Angela said. She dropped the woman’s arm and grabbed her other arm and pulled up the sleeve – the second arm looked identical to the first.
“You poor child,” Father said. “May God have mercy on your soul.” He raised his arms and turned in place so that he could look upon all of the Disciples. “What say you, brothers and sisters?”
“Guilty…guilty…guilty…”
“Place the convicted upon the altar,” Father commanded.
When the accused woman heard the verdict and Father’s command, she began to struggle immediately. Two additional Disciples had to leave from their assigned places in order to help Sister Angela tie the screaming, kicking, and fighting woman down on top of the altar. They bound her arms and feet down using the red and gold fabrics. When they were finished, they took a step back from the altar and waited for the others to join.
They formed a complete circle around the altar. At Father’s command, two of the Disciples opened the woman’s cloak, exposing her naked body to the cool, nighttime air. The majority of the woman’s body was pink and healthy, but great streaks of grey, dead flesh could be seen all over her. The Disciples joined hands.
“God bless this woman,” Father said.
“Bless her…bless her,” the congregation answered.
In the moonlight, the woman screamed in pain as the grey, dead flesh slowly receded, giving way to the healthy pink skin.
“The Father has blessed us with eternal life, but we are cursed with the eternal hunger that comes with it. It has been years since we’ve tasted living flesh. Is this a test of our faith, a temptation?”
“No…no…,” the congregation said.
“Could it be that this poor creature’s curse is our reward from the almighty? What say you?”
“Yes…yes…”
Between the ring of chanters, the woman’s flesh had turned completely pink. Goose prickles stood up all over her body.
The Disciples released each other’s hands and pulled back their hoods, exposing the dead, decayed, normal faces of the saved. Some were missing ears, some noses, some were still intact. Where Father’s eyes should have been were two, dried out, empty sockets, resting above two cheek bones that were jutting sharply out of the decomposed flesh of his face.
“Give us this day our daily bread,” Father said.
The woman’s screams carried across the clearing as the Disciples tore into her living flesh.
