the life and times of CJ
“You have been lied to!”
A voice booms over the oscillating crowd. Men and women surround the podium of an abandoned church. They are quiet, enthralled by the cloaked figure towering over them.
“They say we are weak. I say we are strong.”
The man behind the mass of black and unidentifiable textiles is unreal. He looks from one face to the next, sweeping motions encapsulate the dozens below him who stand where pews once were. He gives the impression of a man on film. His inflection is too perfect, his speech too planned. He can be only a practiced orator reflecting another man’s vision, or a man who knows his work as himself.
“They say we must be saved. I say we are our own saviors.”
His words resound off stained glass scenes of the devout. The shadows twist serene faces into wicked smirks.
“The time for their prophecies fulfillment has come and gone a hundred times. They will not come. They say we are nothing. We are everything!”
Beneath his hood a face can be seen. It is a mask of ivory and emerald. It smiles.
“Who are we if not gods? Gods fallen into forgetfulness. Lost from our more righteous path we are crushed against the ground. Our families suffer. Our lives lay in ruin. All because of their lies. We must let them lie no more!”
The crowd is filthy. They stink of unpaid labors and decaying hopes. They are of all colors. They are all tired. They hear nothing but the voice of an actor who has surpassed the screen and come to play in the real world.
“The truth lies within us, not without us. The only sin is ignorance. The only virtue is power. We possess both, and must cleanse of ourselves of the one as we cultivate the other. Do not fear, for fear is the root of ignorance. Fear is the heart of all weakness. In each of us lay the seeds of virtue. And courage is water for those seeds. Freedom their fruit. And we shall be free. We shall be strong. If only the truth would spread.”
The crowd shifts, knowing what comes next.
“Go! Leave here until the next day of our enemies’. Go and bring to us all who would listen. Together we will change the world!”
The people dissipated quickly. Melting away in all direction, they left the hooded figure at his pedestal. Some believed he lived inside the old church, for he would never leave until he was most certainly the last to do so. He went from door to door, collecting the offerings left during every gathering. There was more every week. When he was completely alone the man took off his cloak and mask to hide them in the cellar. Behind an empty bookcase there was a hallway leading into a kitchen. Shelves were filled with jars of paraffin wax and powders of varying hues. Most of the money was kept in a warm refrigerator.
“Almost,” said the man.
A voice booms over the oscillating crowd. Men and women surround the podium of an abandoned church. They are quiet, enthralled by the cloaked figure towering over them.
“They say we are weak. I say we are strong.”
The man behind the mass of black and unidentifiable textiles is unreal. He looks from one face to the next, sweeping motions encapsulate the dozens below him who stand where pews once were. He gives the impression of a man on film. His inflection is too perfect, his speech too planned. He can be only a practiced orator reflecting another man’s vision, or a man who knows his work as himself.
“They say we must be saved. I say we are our own saviors.”
His words resound off stained glass scenes of the devout. The shadows twist serene faces into wicked smirks.
“The time for their prophecies fulfillment has come and gone a hundred times. They will not come. They say we are nothing. We are everything!”
Beneath his hood a face can be seen. It is a mask of ivory and emerald. It smiles.
“Who are we if not gods? Gods fallen into forgetfulness. Lost from our more righteous path we are crushed against the ground. Our families suffer. Our lives lay in ruin. All because of their lies. We must let them lie no more!”
The crowd is filthy. They stink of unpaid labors and decaying hopes. They are of all colors. They are all tired. They hear nothing but the voice of an actor who has surpassed the screen and come to play in the real world.
“The truth lies within us, not without us. The only sin is ignorance. The only virtue is power. We possess both, and must cleanse of ourselves of the one as we cultivate the other. Do not fear, for fear is the root of ignorance. Fear is the heart of all weakness. In each of us lay the seeds of virtue. And courage is water for those seeds. Freedom their fruit. And we shall be free. We shall be strong. If only the truth would spread.”
The crowd shifts, knowing what comes next.
“Go! Leave here until the next day of our enemies’. Go and bring to us all who would listen. Together we will change the world!”
The people dissipated quickly. Melting away in all direction, they left the hooded figure at his pedestal. Some believed he lived inside the old church, for he would never leave until he was most certainly the last to do so. He went from door to door, collecting the offerings left during every gathering. There was more every week. When he was completely alone the man took off his cloak and mask to hide them in the cellar. Behind an empty bookcase there was a hallway leading into a kitchen. Shelves were filled with jars of paraffin wax and powders of varying hues. Most of the money was kept in a warm refrigerator.
“Almost,” said the man.