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If you want to read the rest of these go to http://blog.myspace.com/thermc
If you're too lazy to read here's a synopsis:
Ragor is in a holding facility run by the newly-instated corrupt government, the ironically-named Alliance of the Free. He was placed there merely for refusing to swear loyalty to the Alliance. While getting lunch one day, Ragor is stunned to see Deliria, the girl whom he has secretly loved for months, eating in the same room. She had killed her boyfriend in self-defense, but because he was an Alliance officer, she wound up in holding without the courts considering the matter twice. The two have a quick conversation that puts Ragor on a religious high. He comes back to his room where his roommate, a mysterious man named Gabriel, has devised a plan to escape from holding. On the condition that they will save Deliria too, Ragor agrees to the plan and the two begin planning their next move.
Now, please enjoy the next part of my story.
PART SIX: THE AN-JU WAY
When Gabriel was about fifteen years old, he came home from school one day to find both of his parents on the living room sofa covered in blood, dead. He didn’t cry, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t call anyone. He just packed his clothes and left the house, left the city, left everything he thought was real.
And that’s how he lived for the course of five years, a vagabond whose greatest trouble was what was for dinner the next night. He would find himself raiding the dumpsters of small dining establishments and cafes, scrounging for meager portions of food and fighting off those who threatened them. He developed a keen ability to fight, often becoming the center of a street-side brawl.
It was in one of these brawls that he was first introduced to the An-ju.
Night was drawing near, time to seek shelter. Gabriel was rarely out this late, as by this time he normally had settled down in some alley where no one could find him and rest for the evening. He walked carefully, making every step quick but light, as to not draw any attention. He turned a corner just as three other men turned the very corner in the opposite direction. He stopped. The men smiled.
Few words were exchanged, but many fists flew. One of the men was smaller than the others and easier to attack, but after a while the little one had backed off and the other two took it as their burden to make Gabriel wish he had never taken a step on the streets at night. Gabriel did his best to fight them off, but slowly the fists became harder, and the world grew smaller, and the men became larger. Gabriel closed his eyes and knew that this was it, this was everything, this was the dead end to an already meaningless existence. He felt one more fist and
The fists ceased. Two grunts and two thuds. Gabriel opened his eyes and saw the world around him, shrouded by the cloak of night but still very beautiful. There was a figure of a man in front of him, one without a face but with very discernible eyes staring straight into Gabriel. Gabriel would later come to spend much time with this man, but the only words he ever heard this man speak were said on that night: “Come with me.”
“Gabriel!”
Gabriel turned to Ragor, who was peering out of the window of the holding room door. “What?”
“Are you ready?”
“I am always ready.” He pulled the rope out from under the bed and proceeded to tie Ragor to the metal post of the bunk bed.
The first officer was making the same rounds he made every day, walking down the same hallway and looking into the same holding room windows, expecting nothing wrong and finding nothing wrong. And now the end of the hallway, his last room before his shift would finally be done, he looked in the little window. And gasped. A prisoner had been tied to the post of his bed and was now struggling and shouting something. Finally, an adventure, a chance to be something! The officer reveled in the thought of the heroic deed he was about to commit as he bravely opened the door and rushed in to save the prisoner. And then a sharp pain in the neck. And everything went dark.
Meanwhile, the second officer was sitting in the special dining hall for officers above the dining hall of the prisoners, enjoying a delicious pastry when he heard the call. He dropped his pastry, jumped out of his chair and hurried down the corridors of holding rooms, repeating the name of this one over and over again in his mind. At the end of one of the hallways he found the door open, and an officer against the wall with a mad prisoner holding him there with a weapon. The second officer entered with a shout of “Cease!”, causing the prisoner to back away and drop his weapon. The second officer noticed the first officer approaching. And then a pain. And darkness.
Gabriel set the second officer in the bottom bunk of the bed while Ragor put on the second officer’s uniform. Fully dressed and ready to go, the two waved good-bye to their holding room as well as to their former oppressors who now slept like children after a hard day. And with that, they were gone.
After about a month of training, Gabriel’s mentors decided it was time for him to meet the An-ju Master, the legendary bearer of all mysticism. The Master lived at the peak of the mountain that overlooked the An-ju temple, and a blizzard had just struck. Gabriel was given a day’s worth of food and a new coat, and sent him off into the torrential weather and daring geography that lay ahead. He left at sunrise, and at sunset was barely halfway up to the little house on the peak. He ate what he had with him, which was barely anything at all, but meant to sustain him for the entire journey. He looked down at the temple, and up at the house on the peak. He realized that either way he went, he would probably starve by the time he got there. He sat there in the snow, with the cold wind thrashing against him, a miserable failure, doomed to die on that mountain. But a hand on his shoulder changed everything.
“Come inside my cave here. I will give you shelter for the night.”
Gabriel looked up to see a flowing robe, a beard, and two clear eyes peering down at him. He followed the robe and beard into his nearby cave, and sat at a table.
“Why do you venture so on the mountain, young one?”
“I am training under the An-ju. They told me to go see the master, but I will never make it up there with the food they gave me, and I can’t go back so ashamed. I am a failure.”
The robe and beard pulled from behind a rock a basket of herbs. He set it on the table. “Eat.” Gabriel pulled out a couple of herbs from the basket and started eating them. The robe and beard spoke again. “Why would they give you such little food?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a true An-ju warrior can survive on less than I can.”
“Or maybe your quest was not to reach that house.”
Gabriel dropped his herbs. “What?”
“Your quest was to find the An-ju Master, not to reach that house. If you had proceeded all the way to that house, you would have died. But instead you stayed out there in the snow long enough for me to find you.”
Gabriel jumped out of his chair and bowed down. “Great An-ju Master!” A slap on the head brought Gabriel’s attention back.
“Do not bow before me, nor before any man, ever! …That is your first lesson. Learn it well. My son, you and I will have a lot of training to do during your stay here in the cave. While we’re at it, here is your second lesson: Utilize every part of you at all times to preserve the good that is already present. This, my son, is the An-ju way.”
Gabriel rose from his feet and smiled, and the training began.
Two years he had spent in that cave with the Master, learning every technique and nuance that An-ju mysticism offered. As he and Ragor walked down the hallway of the holding facility he realized that this was it, this was his true test.
Ragor opened the door of the warden’s office. Preserve the good that is already present. The An-ju way…
Two officers entered the warden’s office. The warden was shocked to hear their stories of what had happened that day. Apparently one prisoner had been intoxicated by some kind of drug that made him mad and destructive. He had knocked out the other prisoner in his holding room and tried to take down one of the officers. Once the two officers had the prisoner subdued, they interrogated him until he revealed the name of whoever supplied him the drugs. He let out the word “Deliria” right before passing out. The warden checked his records and found that there was a girl named Deliria currently in holding for murder. He gave the officers permission to take her into custody and arranged for a car to pick them up and take the enemy to high court. The officers nodded and left.
Deliria stood by the window of her holding room, looking outside at the world, thinking, dreaming, wishing she could experience it all one more time before the government killed her. The minute her thoughts took a quick pause the door opened and two officers entered. She turned around, at first shocked, but the sight of Ragor’s face had a way of calming her down. She got in the handcuffs with no complaints and the three walked toward the entrance of the holding facility.
The driver was waiting by the curb in a large, dark automobile with the official logos of the Alliance painted on the hood and on the back. Three strangers got in the car and the driver started off, moving at a quick pace, to the condemnation hall. Only taking simple orders. Right turn. Right turn. Left turn. And then a gun from the backseat was pointed to the driver’s head. “Pull over,” said one of the strangers. The car found a curb and stopped. The driver was afraid, not for his life, but for the future of the Alliance. And then darkness.
“How the hell did he do that?” Deliria couldn’t even blink as she looked at the lifeless body of the driver slumped into the front seat.
“He won’t tell me.” Ragor smiled at her as Gabriel popped into the front of the car, placing what used to be the driver in the passenger seat and starting the car himself.
They drove in silence for a while, mostly due to the fact that they were all criminals, doers of awful crimes against a behemoth of a system. And in that silence it was as if they had all conversed without words, and realized that what they were starting in that car would very soon lead to a new kind of revolution.
Gabriel had never understood the final lesson he received from the An-ju Master. It was a story. Something about two people in a dark box, surrounded by a dreadful storm. The two held strong against the storm, and the box began to grow, larger and more fortified, greater and more powerful. And they continued to hold strong, and the box continued to grow. And before long, the box was so large, they never even noticed the storm outside.
Gabriel had never understood the significance of this lesson. Until today.
He looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at the images of Ragor and Deliria. There they sat, faced with the thought of being captured and killed, but not hiding. Rather they just sat, together, almost conspiring silently, enjoying themselves together in the face of their oppressors. They were there, not letting their fears get the best of them, but realizing and graciously accepting the good that was truly around them. The An-ju way, Gabriel whispered.
And that car, that vessel of rebellion, that make-shift home for the scum of society, plunged on steadily down the boulevard, back up against the storm, ready to take on whatever life could throw at it.
If you're too lazy to read here's a synopsis:
Ragor is in a holding facility run by the newly-instated corrupt government, the ironically-named Alliance of the Free. He was placed there merely for refusing to swear loyalty to the Alliance. While getting lunch one day, Ragor is stunned to see Deliria, the girl whom he has secretly loved for months, eating in the same room. She had killed her boyfriend in self-defense, but because he was an Alliance officer, she wound up in holding without the courts considering the matter twice. The two have a quick conversation that puts Ragor on a religious high. He comes back to his room where his roommate, a mysterious man named Gabriel, has devised a plan to escape from holding. On the condition that they will save Deliria too, Ragor agrees to the plan and the two begin planning their next move.
Now, please enjoy the next part of my story.
PART SIX: THE AN-JU WAY
When Gabriel was about fifteen years old, he came home from school one day to find both of his parents on the living room sofa covered in blood, dead. He didn’t cry, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t call anyone. He just packed his clothes and left the house, left the city, left everything he thought was real.
And that’s how he lived for the course of five years, a vagabond whose greatest trouble was what was for dinner the next night. He would find himself raiding the dumpsters of small dining establishments and cafes, scrounging for meager portions of food and fighting off those who threatened them. He developed a keen ability to fight, often becoming the center of a street-side brawl.
It was in one of these brawls that he was first introduced to the An-ju.
Night was drawing near, time to seek shelter. Gabriel was rarely out this late, as by this time he normally had settled down in some alley where no one could find him and rest for the evening. He walked carefully, making every step quick but light, as to not draw any attention. He turned a corner just as three other men turned the very corner in the opposite direction. He stopped. The men smiled.
Few words were exchanged, but many fists flew. One of the men was smaller than the others and easier to attack, but after a while the little one had backed off and the other two took it as their burden to make Gabriel wish he had never taken a step on the streets at night. Gabriel did his best to fight them off, but slowly the fists became harder, and the world grew smaller, and the men became larger. Gabriel closed his eyes and knew that this was it, this was everything, this was the dead end to an already meaningless existence. He felt one more fist and
The fists ceased. Two grunts and two thuds. Gabriel opened his eyes and saw the world around him, shrouded by the cloak of night but still very beautiful. There was a figure of a man in front of him, one without a face but with very discernible eyes staring straight into Gabriel. Gabriel would later come to spend much time with this man, but the only words he ever heard this man speak were said on that night: “Come with me.”
“Gabriel!”
Gabriel turned to Ragor, who was peering out of the window of the holding room door. “What?”
“Are you ready?”
“I am always ready.” He pulled the rope out from under the bed and proceeded to tie Ragor to the metal post of the bunk bed.
The first officer was making the same rounds he made every day, walking down the same hallway and looking into the same holding room windows, expecting nothing wrong and finding nothing wrong. And now the end of the hallway, his last room before his shift would finally be done, he looked in the little window. And gasped. A prisoner had been tied to the post of his bed and was now struggling and shouting something. Finally, an adventure, a chance to be something! The officer reveled in the thought of the heroic deed he was about to commit as he bravely opened the door and rushed in to save the prisoner. And then a sharp pain in the neck. And everything went dark.
Meanwhile, the second officer was sitting in the special dining hall for officers above the dining hall of the prisoners, enjoying a delicious pastry when he heard the call. He dropped his pastry, jumped out of his chair and hurried down the corridors of holding rooms, repeating the name of this one over and over again in his mind. At the end of one of the hallways he found the door open, and an officer against the wall with a mad prisoner holding him there with a weapon. The second officer entered with a shout of “Cease!”, causing the prisoner to back away and drop his weapon. The second officer noticed the first officer approaching. And then a pain. And darkness.
Gabriel set the second officer in the bottom bunk of the bed while Ragor put on the second officer’s uniform. Fully dressed and ready to go, the two waved good-bye to their holding room as well as to their former oppressors who now slept like children after a hard day. And with that, they were gone.
After about a month of training, Gabriel’s mentors decided it was time for him to meet the An-ju Master, the legendary bearer of all mysticism. The Master lived at the peak of the mountain that overlooked the An-ju temple, and a blizzard had just struck. Gabriel was given a day’s worth of food and a new coat, and sent him off into the torrential weather and daring geography that lay ahead. He left at sunrise, and at sunset was barely halfway up to the little house on the peak. He ate what he had with him, which was barely anything at all, but meant to sustain him for the entire journey. He looked down at the temple, and up at the house on the peak. He realized that either way he went, he would probably starve by the time he got there. He sat there in the snow, with the cold wind thrashing against him, a miserable failure, doomed to die on that mountain. But a hand on his shoulder changed everything.
“Come inside my cave here. I will give you shelter for the night.”
Gabriel looked up to see a flowing robe, a beard, and two clear eyes peering down at him. He followed the robe and beard into his nearby cave, and sat at a table.
“Why do you venture so on the mountain, young one?”
“I am training under the An-ju. They told me to go see the master, but I will never make it up there with the food they gave me, and I can’t go back so ashamed. I am a failure.”
The robe and beard pulled from behind a rock a basket of herbs. He set it on the table. “Eat.” Gabriel pulled out a couple of herbs from the basket and started eating them. The robe and beard spoke again. “Why would they give you such little food?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a true An-ju warrior can survive on less than I can.”
“Or maybe your quest was not to reach that house.”
Gabriel dropped his herbs. “What?”
“Your quest was to find the An-ju Master, not to reach that house. If you had proceeded all the way to that house, you would have died. But instead you stayed out there in the snow long enough for me to find you.”
Gabriel jumped out of his chair and bowed down. “Great An-ju Master!” A slap on the head brought Gabriel’s attention back.
“Do not bow before me, nor before any man, ever! …That is your first lesson. Learn it well. My son, you and I will have a lot of training to do during your stay here in the cave. While we’re at it, here is your second lesson: Utilize every part of you at all times to preserve the good that is already present. This, my son, is the An-ju way.”
Gabriel rose from his feet and smiled, and the training began.
Two years he had spent in that cave with the Master, learning every technique and nuance that An-ju mysticism offered. As he and Ragor walked down the hallway of the holding facility he realized that this was it, this was his true test.
Ragor opened the door of the warden’s office. Preserve the good that is already present. The An-ju way…
Two officers entered the warden’s office. The warden was shocked to hear their stories of what had happened that day. Apparently one prisoner had been intoxicated by some kind of drug that made him mad and destructive. He had knocked out the other prisoner in his holding room and tried to take down one of the officers. Once the two officers had the prisoner subdued, they interrogated him until he revealed the name of whoever supplied him the drugs. He let out the word “Deliria” right before passing out. The warden checked his records and found that there was a girl named Deliria currently in holding for murder. He gave the officers permission to take her into custody and arranged for a car to pick them up and take the enemy to high court. The officers nodded and left.
Deliria stood by the window of her holding room, looking outside at the world, thinking, dreaming, wishing she could experience it all one more time before the government killed her. The minute her thoughts took a quick pause the door opened and two officers entered. She turned around, at first shocked, but the sight of Ragor’s face had a way of calming her down. She got in the handcuffs with no complaints and the three walked toward the entrance of the holding facility.
The driver was waiting by the curb in a large, dark automobile with the official logos of the Alliance painted on the hood and on the back. Three strangers got in the car and the driver started off, moving at a quick pace, to the condemnation hall. Only taking simple orders. Right turn. Right turn. Left turn. And then a gun from the backseat was pointed to the driver’s head. “Pull over,” said one of the strangers. The car found a curb and stopped. The driver was afraid, not for his life, but for the future of the Alliance. And then darkness.
“How the hell did he do that?” Deliria couldn’t even blink as she looked at the lifeless body of the driver slumped into the front seat.
“He won’t tell me.” Ragor smiled at her as Gabriel popped into the front of the car, placing what used to be the driver in the passenger seat and starting the car himself.
They drove in silence for a while, mostly due to the fact that they were all criminals, doers of awful crimes against a behemoth of a system. And in that silence it was as if they had all conversed without words, and realized that what they were starting in that car would very soon lead to a new kind of revolution.
Gabriel had never understood the final lesson he received from the An-ju Master. It was a story. Something about two people in a dark box, surrounded by a dreadful storm. The two held strong against the storm, and the box began to grow, larger and more fortified, greater and more powerful. And they continued to hold strong, and the box continued to grow. And before long, the box was so large, they never even noticed the storm outside.
Gabriel had never understood the significance of this lesson. Until today.
He looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at the images of Ragor and Deliria. There they sat, faced with the thought of being captured and killed, but not hiding. Rather they just sat, together, almost conspiring silently, enjoying themselves together in the face of their oppressors. They were there, not letting their fears get the best of them, but realizing and graciously accepting the good that was truly around them. The An-ju way, Gabriel whispered.
And that car, that vessel of rebellion, that make-shift home for the scum of society, plunged on steadily down the boulevard, back up against the storm, ready to take on whatever life could throw at it.