(no subject)
Write About a Recurring Dream
Connor MacManus had no recurring dreams. One that sticks out in his mind is the vision that changed the lives of two brothers. It only had to appear once to get a message across for it was divine.
The two men rested easily in the prison cell the Boston police and the FBI agent had given them permission to use. Anything that kept them away from the press was a godsend. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation nor was the atmosphere particularly desirable but the two weren't used to luxuries anyway. Thunder clapped just outside. That was nothing new. Boston had its share of storms. After a while it didn't even become background noise, people just learned to ignore it. Something, however, did plague the MacManus' dreams and rose over the thunder that had now become apparent. The claps were not ordinary; it seemed now they were commanding attention.
The morning's sermon echoed through the stale air. "This poor soul cried out for help...They watched as he simply walked away." Kitty Genovese had a plain face. She was the woman at the supermarket putting cans of soup and booze into her cart or the woman in line at the bank who was looking through her purse to make sure she was armed with the proper identification should the need arise. In the pockets of her purse was a small photo album of family and friends. One hundred and ten percent average. Everything cut away quickly and the averageness of the woman melted away as a knife ripped through her back twice. Her screams tore through the air as she endured the agony and started to slump and stagger. The windows to the surrounding buildings, however, remained closed. It was cool out. Any shouts would be muffled and yet they were loud and pitiful enough to invoke curiosity. She kept shrieking for her life.
"The indifference of good men." A voice had finally frightened off Kitty's attacker. She managed to limp away but collapsed before she could make and great distance. Time passed and she continued to lie there. Before any good news arrived her attacker returned and stabbed her with more vigor, encouraged. He took the wallet complete with photos and less than fifty dollars cash but it still wasn't enough. She raised her hands to defend herself and they were savagely ripped and torn with the knife that had claimed flesh from her back and abdomen. Her screams of agony now turned into cries of pitifulness and shame as the man took and assaulted her.
"Nobody wanted to get involved." The view suddenly switched and Connor found himself standing only a yard or two away from the crime unfolding. His eyes were wide, expression dumbstruck. Despite the wild urge he could not move. "Nobody." It was as if his boots had become heavy, immovable weights. Just on the other side he could see Murphy with an equally dumbstruck, pained expression thought he was unable to move. "Nobody." Now he could tell, however, their feet were chained to a cross that towered behind each twin. Time sped forward and the man darted off leaving Kitty to slump, wasting away slowly while her blood stained the sidewalk. It had to have been hours...it felt like it. "NOBODY."
"911 what is your emergency?"
Connor shot up from his cot with his head leaned gracefully back. His eyes shot open and his breath was alarmingly short. He found that he was staring into nothingness but it was a harsh nothing and he had to blink several times before he could actually begin to see. It purged him...cleansed the evil which he had seen away from his sight and mind. Reassurance surged through him. Then a presence in the cell was clear...it was as if he were still in some daze and someone had come along and rested a warm hand of reassurance over his eyes. Trickles of water from the storm outside fell from the roof and fell onto his forehead. While the droplets still felt gentle the sensation itself was different: it was if a warhead had just been dropped and it whistled towards Connor's brow before exploding and let a burst of epiphany rush through his head. A strong, disembodied voice spoke, "Whosoever shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. For in the image of God may deem a man..."
The warm hand that had been resting over his eyes had vanished leaving him with a chilled yet full sensation. His first instinct was to glance over at his brother. He was surprised to find Murphy looking directly back at him almost expectantly. Words flowed forth from his mouth and Connor was sure someone else had put them there expecting him to say them.
"Destroy all that which is evil..."
Murphy didn't miss a beat.
"So that which is good may flourish."
Connor MacManus had no recurring dreams. One that sticks out in his mind is the vision that changed the lives of two brothers. It only had to appear once to get a message across for it was divine.
The two men rested easily in the prison cell the Boston police and the FBI agent had given them permission to use. Anything that kept them away from the press was a godsend. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation nor was the atmosphere particularly desirable but the two weren't used to luxuries anyway. Thunder clapped just outside. That was nothing new. Boston had its share of storms. After a while it didn't even become background noise, people just learned to ignore it. Something, however, did plague the MacManus' dreams and rose over the thunder that had now become apparent. The claps were not ordinary; it seemed now they were commanding attention.
The morning's sermon echoed through the stale air. "This poor soul cried out for help...They watched as he simply walked away." Kitty Genovese had a plain face. She was the woman at the supermarket putting cans of soup and booze into her cart or the woman in line at the bank who was looking through her purse to make sure she was armed with the proper identification should the need arise. In the pockets of her purse was a small photo album of family and friends. One hundred and ten percent average. Everything cut away quickly and the averageness of the woman melted away as a knife ripped through her back twice. Her screams tore through the air as she endured the agony and started to slump and stagger. The windows to the surrounding buildings, however, remained closed. It was cool out. Any shouts would be muffled and yet they were loud and pitiful enough to invoke curiosity. She kept shrieking for her life.
"The indifference of good men." A voice had finally frightened off Kitty's attacker. She managed to limp away but collapsed before she could make and great distance. Time passed and she continued to lie there. Before any good news arrived her attacker returned and stabbed her with more vigor, encouraged. He took the wallet complete with photos and less than fifty dollars cash but it still wasn't enough. She raised her hands to defend herself and they were savagely ripped and torn with the knife that had claimed flesh from her back and abdomen. Her screams of agony now turned into cries of pitifulness and shame as the man took and assaulted her.
"Nobody wanted to get involved." The view suddenly switched and Connor found himself standing only a yard or two away from the crime unfolding. His eyes were wide, expression dumbstruck. Despite the wild urge he could not move. "Nobody." It was as if his boots had become heavy, immovable weights. Just on the other side he could see Murphy with an equally dumbstruck, pained expression thought he was unable to move. "Nobody." Now he could tell, however, their feet were chained to a cross that towered behind each twin. Time sped forward and the man darted off leaving Kitty to slump, wasting away slowly while her blood stained the sidewalk. It had to have been hours...it felt like it. "NOBODY."
"911 what is your emergency?"
Connor shot up from his cot with his head leaned gracefully back. His eyes shot open and his breath was alarmingly short. He found that he was staring into nothingness but it was a harsh nothing and he had to blink several times before he could actually begin to see. It purged him...cleansed the evil which he had seen away from his sight and mind. Reassurance surged through him. Then a presence in the cell was clear...it was as if he were still in some daze and someone had come along and rested a warm hand of reassurance over his eyes. Trickles of water from the storm outside fell from the roof and fell onto his forehead. While the droplets still felt gentle the sensation itself was different: it was if a warhead had just been dropped and it whistled towards Connor's brow before exploding and let a burst of epiphany rush through his head. A strong, disembodied voice spoke, "Whosoever shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. For in the image of God may deem a man..."
The warm hand that had been resting over his eyes had vanished leaving him with a chilled yet full sensation. His first instinct was to glance over at his brother. He was surprised to find Murphy looking directly back at him almost expectantly. Words flowed forth from his mouth and Connor was sure someone else had put them there expecting him to say them.
"Destroy all that which is evil..."
Murphy didn't miss a beat.
"So that which is good may flourish."