A Fiction Series; Begin Here The Master of Chaos
The old office was gone, in its place a grand staircase as wide at the base as the entire office had been. The stairs were carved out of black obsidian and shined like glass as they wound ever upward. When they finally terminated at a landing, there were a series of twenty-four thrones also of carved obsidian, and regal in design. Seated at the twenty-four thrones were twenty-four kings wearing twenty-four crowns of gold, and singing praises. Inside the circle of thrones, the stairs began again, although much narrower and arose to another landing. On this landing, there was another throne, much larger and more opulent than the ones below it. The king of kings sat at his throne, wearing a huge gold and jeweled crown, and a silk robe spun from the finest, the cuffs at his wrists were silver, like that of the Alpha and the Omega’s. He smiled at his surroundings; it was good to be king indeed.
Lucifer’s kings were nothing more than demons selected at random to do as they were told, but it certainly made him feel much more important. Lucifer sat and listened to his demons chant in the kingdom he had fashioned after the heavenly one, and he wondered. Everyone was always taunting him with the scripture, every time he had a victory, there was always some angel there to say, “Yes Satan, but never forget how it ends”. He was sick of it, his people were ruling the vast majority of the earth these days, wasn’t it just possible that he could turn the tables on them? Wasn’t it possible he could catch them off guard and write his own future? He loathed the enemy for all of His righteousness, like that was ever any fun. No, Lucifer had a plan, and scripture or no scripture, prophecy or no prophecy; he was bound and determined to hang on to his kingdom no matter what it took. He leaned back in his throne chair and sighed heavily, it was good to be king, or god, yes, it was good to be a god.
* * *
MONDAY EVENING, 7:25 pm
“Are you out of your flipping mind, I would lose my license if I did that” said the enraged man across the table from Sam Preston. The DEA monitors all of that activity, and any abuses or even suspected abuses are ferreted out, besides losing my license I could do jail time on top of it, the answer is no. Sam looked around the table at the other elders and guests, hoping someone would jump in and help him out. Tim cleared his throat, “Bill, excuse me if I am butting in, but I need you to know something. After this week, your license will be useless anyway; if you come with us you will be in a different state or country. Aren’t medical licenses a state by state thing”? The Dr. nodded, then said, it doesn’t matter though, after all of this is over, I will need to begin a new life for my family, and if I have lost my license then that isn’t going to be possible.
Tim nodded soothingly, then said, “Bill, this is it, there won’t be any rebuilding afterward, what we are asking you to do is help us stock the infirmary in the place God has prepared for us, and do it now while we can. When we leave here, you are never going to be coming back”. Bill sat back in his chair with a stunned look on his face, the realization of Tim’s words sinking in for the first time. Tim continued, “Dr. Jordan has made up a list of common prescriptions that are taken by many for a variety of reasons, and we are going to need a lot of them before we leave. We have 347 people ready to go out all over the city to different pharmacies to fill all of the scripts that the seven of you write, but you have to be willing, and you have to be looking at the big picture, none of these meds will ever be abused, what you are doing is not unethical”. Bill just sighed heavy and said, “okay, I will do it, but I won’t like it”. Tim smiled, that’s good enough for me.
* * *
The death of president Conroy dominated the news, flags were to be flown at half-staff for one week, the funeral was set for Tuesday at 1pm. Ted Sackett was just hoping there would be no bumps in the road that would require him to do anything presidential. He had just met with the Army Chief of Staff on budget issues when his aid said that there was a call waiting for him, and that it was president Petrovski. He told the aid that he would take it in the oval office. A secret serviceman escorted the president into the office, and then Sackett dismissed the man, to which the man replied, “I am sorry Mr. President, someone is to be with you at all times”. Sackett just turned and went to the desk without another word and answered the phone. “President Sackett, I just wanted to extend to you our condolences on behalf of every nation in the League”. Thank you Vlad, said Sackett kindly, it was so unexpected, we never suspected that Lerner was suicidal, you think you know someone. Yes, I couldn’t agree more, I never saw president Conroy like that, he was always such a strong man, such a leader. Sackett agreed, thinking how he wished the man was still alive so he could finish the job he had started.
Ted, I am going to be in town for the funeral tomorrow afternoon, I was wondering if we could meet for dinner and a drink afterwards? Sackett had always been impressed with Petrovski, unlike Conroy who thought the man was rotten to the core. Sure Vlad, I can make time, I will have my secretary set things up with yours, will two hours do? That should be more than enough time, said Vlad as he smiled wickedly into the phone, that will be perfect.
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING, 1:32 AM
Tim couldn’t sleep, so he was out in the garage going through cabinets, sorting the things that he would be taking from the things he would be leaving behind. He was so tired, and his mind so full and heavy as he went through each cabinet systematically. He found his old ball glove from little league and smiled at the memory, noting the leather was now cracked and brittle. He remembered putting leather balm on it every week, and every time he wasn’t using it for practice or game, he had kept a baseball in the mitt with rubber bands around it, so that the glove would hold its form. He smiled as he placed it in the “to go” box then turned back to the cabinet. He threw a couple of cans of old spray paint away revealing an old stash of Wild Turkey whiskey he had forgotten about, the bottle almost full. He stared up at it for a moment, and then pulled the bottle down and looked at the label, wondering how long it had been there. He unscrewed the lid and placed the mouth of the bottle beneath his nose, smelling the strong drink. Memories of many nights lost in the bottle came flooding back to him, but also the memory of the numbness from pain and hurt, and as much as he hated to admit it, he longed for that escape now. He looked at the bottle longingly, like the forbidden fruit of a lost love, sin whispering into his ear that one night would be okay, no one would ever know about it. He thought about all of the responsibility that had been heaped on his shoulders since the dream-vision, whatever it was that he had had. Why him, surely there were many much more capable leaders than him out there, why didn’t God lean on them. Then he realized he was feeling sorry for himself, so he walked over to the large garage sink by the washer and dryer, and unscrewed the top again. He poured the entire bottle down the drain, then screwed the cap back on and tossed it into the trash. It was time for bed. God Bless-JFT
To be Continued–
Note: This series is a work of fiction entirely, for entertainment purposes only, all rights reserved.
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