The elders, bishops, and Head Bastards In Charge of the multitude of missionaries I had pissed off over the years by refusing their “advances” at my door descended upon my house. They banged the door, rang the bell, and loudly demanded I present myself to answer for the evils I have foisted upon their humble petitioners.
I not only came to the door, but stepped outside to speak with them clearly. I listened to them rant and rage at me. Many lifted a fist as if to beat me. None laid a hand on me. I listened to them and their accusations calmly and clearly as each one in turn detailed the sins I had committed against their god and their servants.
“My turn? Good. This could all have been avoided if your humble folk did what you claim to have taught them. To have passed my door the moment I declined their advances. But they didn’t. And now, we’re here.” The crowd of men started to shout over me but I have a louder voice. “You claim to be their better, then fucking act like it! You come to my house and demand I answer for defending my home from fucktards that don’t know how to take ‘No’ for an answer, and you tell me I’m wrong for it? Fuck you AND your gods! You wanted me to stand and deliver? I’m standing, motherfuckers, so get ready to receive my deliverance!”
I pointed at one certain bishop. “YOU! Let me tell you what your ‘quiet and peaceful’ missionaries do! One pair comes here, and I tell them to leave. They switch places with another pair, and send the second pair while the first waits just out of sight around the tree! Then claim ignorance about my refusal. They played this song and dance until I got fucking tired of it and just started throwing cold water out the door the moment I knew which church they came from!” The bishop started to protest that his congregation would never do such a thing. Other bishops laughed and said they’ve had complaints about him and his before.
“And you!” I pointed at another elder. “Your women have told me I needed to be forcibly humbled by your god. When I asked them what that meant, she said I needed a strong man’s hand on my ass! When I told her that a church bishop raped me already, she said he needed to come back and finish the job! (Keri’s note: The rape happened. And the woman’s assertion happened. She told me I needed to be raped again to learn humility to God because the first rape was “mere” punishment for disobediance.) And you wonder why she got a bucketful of cold water? The only thing that kept me from watering my grass with her blood, is I can’t make an insanity plea.” The elder tried to say that the woman was just over excited. “THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE SENDING INTO THE WORLD, YOU MISOGYNIST BIGOT! THIS IS YOUR MESSAGE OF GOD’S LOVE! THAT WOMEN MUST BE RAPED TO BE SAVED! FUCK! YOU!”
The crowd of men around me fell silent. “Any one else want to justify why you have the right to send your missionaries against me and mine like an invasive force? Please. Speak up. I can’t hear you over the sounds of your slaves’ misery.”
“Yea. Speaking of slaves… My brethren came to me saying you told them they were Uncle Tom’s heirs and slavers in their own right. We come to set you free in the name of Jesus! By what right do you have to tell us that we are the enemy!” An imposing minister pushed his way through the crowd. He stood to intimidate me by his size. I only cracked my fists in response.
I spoke quietly. “By what right? You and yours threatened to have the state take away my daughter if I didn’t profess Christ. I handed them the phone and looked up the number. You are enslaved and slavers. Stockholm syndrome taken to conclusion. You can’t conceive of a life of independent thought. Everything from what position you fuck in, to who you fuck, to what to eat on Friday is taken from you and and determined by those you bend the knee to. And don’t lie to me and say you bend the knee only to Christ. You and your congregation are slaves through and through. You’ll cross ocean and mountain to chain another one, and won’t rest until she is worse off than you. Anyone that comes to my door and threatens physical brutality is a slaver. I’ve been beaten for not bending my head low enough during prayer. I’ve been beaten for challenging the pastor’s singular vision. And now you stand before me, trying to make me feel lesser because you have eaten from your congregation’s larder? The only thing your weight gives you an advantage, is hiding your impotent dick from my weapons. But that’s okay. There are other targets I can hit. And you are standing at my door, on my property. And my grass needs watering.”
I took a step towards him. He quickly took a step backwards. Realizing he has lost the dominance, he turns and quickly leaves the group.
His departure disturbs a roost of large albino bats that were resting in the roof’s overhang. I was suddenly sad to see them. I knew that meant I was dreaming, and this confrontation was not taking place. The bats looked at the assembled humans in perplexed confusion. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t know you were roosting here today. I’ll try to keep it quiet.” Most of the bats turned to look at me when I addressed them. Most of them nodded, understanding me.
When the assembly looked up to see what I was talking to, many of them freaked out at the sight. The bats’ bodies were the length of a human arm, after all. And while I could only see twelve of them, I knew there were at least three times that number snuggled in the eaves and attic. The men declared the bats to be proof of my demonic allegiances and most fled from the house at once.
The stampede of humans was the last straw for most of the bats. Many of them took flight and blotted out the sky with their immense wings. I yelled apologies after them, and the way they shrieked in reply, I felt the apologies were accepted. It wasn’t my fault after all that these men felt entitled to confront me. And it wasn’t my fault they were truth-intolerant.
I looked back, and saw five of the large albino bats remained under the eaves. They were fully awake, and were watching us with interest. One of the three remaining elders watched the bats and laughed. “That’s cool. You have a connection to your surroundings.”
He looks back at me. I note he is probably ten years younger than me. “There has been a miscommunication. What my missionaries have reported to me, is not what I found here. I thought I would find an intentional baiter, someone that took pleasure from trying to trip up devout Christians. What I find is someone that is verbally, and maybe even physically, under assault. You have every right to defend yourself and your home. If my missionaries have been part of the problem, I apologize. What can I do to make up for this?”
Bloody hell, he’s sincere. I finally reach someone, and it’s a dream. Fuck. “You can tell them to skip my house. I have nothing to do with how they talk to my neighbors. If we meet in the grocery store, they are just another shopper. But my house, is my house. And I will allow none to assault it without repercussions. You want to make up for this? Teach them to abide by Christ’s teachings. When someone says, ‘No’, leave them be.”
The youthful minister nods. “Very well then. That is what I will emphasize.” He turns to his protege. “Did you hear all that she said, especially what she said to the others? This is the environment we walk in whenever we go outside. So many claiming to be of Christ, have done worse than the most unrepentant of refusers. And they get away with it, because if it’s done in Christ’s name, then it must be condoned! This is why Christians are assaulted on sight in some areas. It’s not hatred. It’s self-defense. The hatred comes later.” He turns back to me, thanks me for talking to him, then leads his protege and a few others away in peaceful parting.
If this has been the type of Christian church I attended, I’d probably still be Christian myself.
I’m quickly reminded of reality.
“We’ll keep our missionaries from your door, because we will not tolerate your abuse of them!” Way to miss the fucking point! “But we will increase our prayers for you, and shall send spiritual warriors against the strongholds that have bound you!”
Oh. Really.
“I was a ‘Spiritual Warrior’. That was my specialty. I took up the Armor of God and my soul went a-warring with the angels.” My calm voice freezes them. “I walked the realm of the spirit, and did battle against the forces of darkness. Or so I thought. I was blinded, and not by my ‘sins’. You wonder why I use terms like ‘slave’ and ‘shackles’? I was chained. Physically and emotionally by my church. Spiritually by the angels.”
I smiled.
“I knew the so-called prophets of my church were faking. I could see where they could not. I could go where they could not. I could slip between the shadows of here and there. I had to be broken, so they could keep their place. I saw the truth of many things, and for it, I was driven into madness.”
I called the fire runeblade to my hand. “I’ve wielded the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. And I tell you, right here, right now…” I pointed the inflamed blade towards them, catching their shocked glares with the flaming tip. “I know the words that can undo gods. And angels. I’ve done it before. I’m not afraid to do it again. I will not be enslaved again. Not to any man. Not to any god. Not to any angel, demon, or any other entity. I am my own.”
The bats overhead chuckled at the sight, but I kept my severe gaze on the remaining two elders. “I know where I am. I know what you two are. Go back to your masters and tell them I am not the easy prey I give appearance to be. I have not forgotten the ‘lessons’ of being a ‘Spiritual Warrior’. Your prayers are useless. And I will have no mercy on those you send against me and mine, in any of the realms.”
The two men looked up at my face. They tried to appear brave and defiant, but where I was cool and collected, they were sweating and fidgetty. They took a few steps back, then turned and hurried down the driveway. I kept my runeblade extended towards them until they left the property line and disappeared into the background scenery.
I put the runeblade away and looked up at the five albino bats. “Hey guys, since y’all hanging around, can I get you anything?” They shrieked in laughter at the bad pun. “I don’t think there will be anymore happenings here today, so if you want to call back your brethren, it’s cool. I’m going back to bed, myself.”
The bats extended their wings down, covering me with gentle taps of soft fuzz. Somehow I knew they would be okay, and the other bats would return. All the merriment of the occasion over, I went back inside the house, locking the doors behind me, and went back to ‘bed’, just as I said I would.
Instead of fully waking in my bed, I awoke in the City. A phone was ringing with a message from a “friend” seeking to pay a debt.
$350 worth of groceries. From milk and bread to cookies and sweets to meats and produce. $350 groceries that she bought to pay a debt owed me. I knew I was dreaming, but played along out of curiosity.
I’d rather have the cash. Like I was supposed to. But groceries are legal tender provided it is in good faith.
She had them delivered for an extra $50 fee. But not to me. She was going to spite me, one way or the other. She had it dropped off in the middle of a bus/train station in the worst part of town. The driver called me to tell me he was leaving the store and where he was headed.
I could have taken the car, but one does not take certain appearances into certain areas. I had already written the groceries off as a loss when the driver mentioned the station. Not all the scavengers are human.
I flew much faster on winged cloak than I could have with flying car. I arrived to see the driver nervously unloading the bags. Homeless and indigent were already gathering in nearby shadows.
“You don’t have to sign for these.” “I don’t? Why not?” “That was waived on the order. Someone pulling a prank on you with this?”
I put my wings away and allowed my displeasure to be seen. “Yea. Like throwing money in the river. Go ahead and leave when you’re done. No sense you being added to the menu.”
He unloaded the last bag, tipped his hat, then entered his van and fled from the station. I could hear the whispers of the windfall around me. Only one person stood between them and a feast. No one wants to find out if I am Weaver. They’ve heard too many things.
I reach in my satchel and pull out my weapon of choice. A big black marker. Checking bags, I note their contents on the side followed by “Free to a hungry mouth!” scrawled after. I find the cookies and set it aside. All the bags marked, I put the marker away, pick up the cookies, and start to go outside to share the bounty with a group of Folk that were looking like a flock of little finches.
“Pardun me, Luv.” A filthy, stinky, gnarled over man with stubby gnarled under fingers came close in a shuffling and hesitant crawl. “Yur… yur really jus’ givin’ it away?” I nodded. “I jus’ wan’ a bite o’bread. Pleese.”
Judging from his appearance, I thought once the more able bodied folk decided to attack the bags, he would get nothing. So I not only pulled out the loaves of bread, but the sliced deli meat, cheese, and condiments as well. “Make yourself a sandwich if you like. I’ll be right back.” He happily stuffed a slice of bread in his mouth then began making his masterpiece.
I flew into the tree near where I saw the flock. “Where should I leave these for y’all?” I opened the container of brightly colored cookies.
“Right here. In this hand!” I turned to find the entire flock had joined me in the tree. Looking like 12 year old girls, they wore feathered tube ‘dresses’ that just barely covered the high and the low. The largest ‘girl’ was next to me, holding her hand out and smiling greedily.
“You have to share with your flock.” “You think I won’t?” “Not without a fight.” The other ‘girls’ laughed at my accurate assessment and teased the one demanding the cookies.
“Alright. I’ll share.” “Fairly.” “Harrumph. Fairly.” “And in the same open giving as I give to you.” “Argh! Okay! I’ll make sure they all get a cookie at least!” I smile and give her the container. She flys off with her flock in tow, reminding her in high pitched tones her obligation to share. The last ‘girl’ looks back at me and thanks me before joining the sweet fray.
Curious about how the groceries have fared, I fly down and enter the station. I am greeted to the sight of homeless and indigent, transient and independent, human and troll, goblin and fey, small and large, gathered in loose groups around the bags. A cloth had been spread over the filthy ground and the goods were placed in neat displays.
There was no fighting, no arguing, no snatching, no hoarding. Those who could were making meals for those who couldn’t. All sat down together in quiet feasting. Then someone looked up and saw me. “It really is Weaver!” I had forgotten to put the feather cloak away. Oops.
Half the crowd was scared that they were eating Weaver’s food. The other half started telling stories they heard about me. I went to the man I pulled out the fixings for and asked him if he ate well.
He was thrilled to see me. “Yes’m! It’s gud bread, ‘n I made a gud sammich! And I made ‘un fer you!” He reaches into his dirt black clothes and pulls out a butcher paper wrapped something. In the butcher paper is a short Dagwood. He holds it out to me with a snaggle tooth grin.
I sit down next to him, silently noting that everyone was watching our interaction. I knew he had smeared the mayonnaise and mustard with his fingers. I knew despite the attempts to keep the food uncontaminated, dirty hands were everywhere. I unwrap his offering and ask him if he had enough to eat.
His mouth said “Yes.”, his stomach loudly countered his statement. I divided the sandwich in half with my suddenly taloned hands and gave him half. “Eat. And I will eat. Because you make good sandwiches.” He accepted the meal and we sat and ate.
Dirt? What dirt? I tell you this, none of the feasts the Envoy had me attend ever satisfied me as well as this half sandwich.
Some asked me about the circumstances. I told them about the cash debt and the spiteful repayment. “I figured it would be better that the food not go to waste. Either way, she is a loss to me.” Heads nod in agreement. She ‘paid’ in a backhanded way. Technically, she returned the value, but in a way I could not make use of it.
But seeing everyone enjoying themselves, I think I wound up the better after all.
“Oh my god! What are you doing here! The food!” I can’t believe it. The bitch is here? “That’s my grocery!”
I finish my sandwich and lick my talons with glee. “Your grocery? That’s not what you told me. This was your payment of your debt to me. That’s what you said.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear you got it, why didn’t you tell me it was delivered here? And where is your car?”
“Naw. Bitch. We are not going to play that game. The groceries are payment for your debt. I accepted. You had the groceries delivered here. Once I accepted the payment of debt, your control in this situation went to shit. I get it now, you were waiting for me to call you, to ask you to come help me rescue the groceries from these filthy and nasty denizens. Waiting for me to place myself in debt to you.”
I started laughing. “I have been at a feast no king could ever host! No food was wasted, and I was reminded why I keep this slender flame of joy alive. Nothing was wasted. Nothing. Even your spite was placed to good use.”
While she sputtered some useless assertion that it was a mistake to have the food delivered here, I looked in the bags and called out what little food remained. It was quickly claimed. Keeping my back to her, I started to gather up the wrappers and trash. Another indigent came to help me. And another. Then the grey furred bridge troll came and took all the trash from us. He could use it to repair his home.
The feast ended, most of the revelers slipped back into the shadows they came from. The gnarled man thanked me for the third time and moved faster than I thought possible out of sight. Soon, it was just me and the bitch debtor.
“Your debt to me is paid. There is now no reason I should protect you from yourself. You have nothing to offer me. Do not cross my path again.”
I pulled the cloak’s hood over my head and disappeared into the shadows myself. The transition from dreaming to waking was a smooth one, and I woke up with the taste of a beef, turkey, and bacon sandwich in my mouth.
(Sadly, no such sandwich is waiting for me. Time to get busy.)