Heretics And Sheep

1: The Past, The Hateful

"How long does it take for the world to forget a man? His achievements define him, you say. Then it must vary, interesting. How long does it take for the world to forget a country? If it is historically recorded, for as long as it matters, smart. But how long does it take for the world to forget a religion? A whole faith, a potential covenant of billions, that which stretches across man and country, life and death, saint, and psychopath... Then I ask of you this: how long does it take, for the world to forget all of them, all religions, all faiths, all cults?"

Marcus's day was not unlike his others. A splash of calm, a drag of bliss and a slow, rolling wave of contented sadness. The jagged rocks of disappointment had not yet awoken. Funny that it is for those he would yearn for in the future. He would come to regret not cherishing them...

In the garden, he watched the sunrise with his dog. "If I take up that offer from my uncle to do some house painting, I'll make..." Marcus tilted his head, and Ares followed with his own.

"Two hundred quid? But then I'd be doing housework for the Triads, those motherfuckers are no good for this town. What do you think Ares? I have no choice, right? We need this house." The canine companion in question, blankly looked up, his tongue lolling out happily.

"Not a single thought behind those eyes." Marcus made the remark in his mind. He wouldn't want to disrespect Ares.

He was a moderately sized dog, well-fed and big enough to pull a weaker man asunder with his leash. Marcus was no weaker man. He was proud of his dog: his German Shepard companion, his world.

"You're right, I gotta take the job, and, I could find more cigarettes to sell to those kids too, score! Thanks Ares. Good boy." He patted away at the dog with his left hand, and his right held a cigarette. It burned.

He heard his family begin to stir. They had awoken and were heading down for coffee. "Fucking addicts." The man headed upstairs to his room. His peace and quiet would come again tomorrow. Marcus had his clothes on. He was planning on buying a pastry after topping up the gas and paying off some of his debts. He had his only leather jacket on and his scruffy, patched pants, but he didn't mind. He liked the way he looked. He wished he would look like this forever. He looked out the window and avoided the realities of rent rising and his boss sacking people left, right and centre. It started to pitter-patter on the window. He hated the rain.

He sat down and sighed. "Record time," he made it upstairs before his sisters got out their rooms. They would bother him, yes, but today they were successfully avoided. He looked at his desk and reached out, hovering. By the bottle of beer and in front of his potted sunflower lay three books: a bible, a translation and an analysis of Satanism. He closed his eyes and let his paranoia gnaw at him for a while.

The incident happened about three weeks ago. Marcus was walking home from the gym when a stranger approached. It was mid-day and they met on a bridge; it was a few blocks from Marcus's home. It allowed for residents to travel over the train tracks and surrounding forest.

"You got any spare change, I need two quid for the busman". The raggedy figure shuddered slightly as he asked. Marcus would not notice because of the glaring sun in his eyes. Marcus did however, notice the stranger's hand reaching into his pocket.

"Textbook, I should've seen it coming."

Marcus was faster and thus took the initiative. His body dropped low. He secured his position with his hands. His leg flew through the air.

"He's gonna pull a knife out, by then I need to bolt."

He had gone through this a couple of times. "No biggie, stay calm," he thought.

Things unfortunately, did not come to fruition as Marcus had predicted... the man was drugged out of his mind. His eyes, now visible, were rolling into the back of his head. His body barely felt the kick. Marcus lunged forward with a combination of punches. He had the advantage, but without an opening, this crackhead would end him. His leading hand glanced off of his opponent's unshaven face; his right hand made true contact. A hit to the side of his jaw while his mouth was opened, spit, a gasp and soon blood came out of it. Marcus watched as the man before him stumbled back. He prepared himself for the sprint ahead. With enough distance and his opponent's lips and wits busted: Marcus wins.

Marcus was mid-sprint for a second, maybe two when he realised this seemingly homeless man was still stumbling. He turned his head back to the half-conscious person. Marcus could only watch as he fell off the bridge down to the train tracks. His eyes widened and he leaned on the railing for a better look. He shouldn't have. The hobo had fallen on his neck and shoulder. Marcus was relieved when he heard a non-metallic thud after his would-be killer fell, but it didn't matter that the man missed the train tracks and landed in the shrubbery... His neck was mangled, and blood splotches were now forming through his rag clothes. "Shit."

Marcus still in shock, stared at his blunder for what felt like way too long. In reality, it was about ten seconds. The sky darkened, rain fell onto Marcus and onto the body, seconds go by, and the corpse does not move

"I-"

More seconds go by. Now they are both drenched in water. Marcus pushed all thought aside and outran the rain. He would get home soaked to the bone.

"The others were asleep that day when I arrived home, lucky me. The news said something about a dead hobo but there hasn't been any follow-up and no pigs have showed up at my door, from what I know, they haven't harassed anybody in the area about it, so I've pretty much gotten away with it." He thought quietly, carefully. These were dangerous thoughts, dark, bad thoughts that could ruin his normal life forever.

"Is that really what I should be worrying about? I haven't felt the same since that day but it was self-defence! The means were to protect but the ends are still vile with murder." He opened his eyes and looked down at the books before him.

"Why am I even bothering with this religious bullshit I should just calm down and figure things out... I know! I-I'll start volunteering at the homeless shelter, I've never done something for free but I'm a changed man from today... From that day." He closed his eyes once more.

"Who are you bullshitting Marcus?" He reached down for one of the books, randomly, he needed this...

"I am God and you have chosen the wrong religion. I have ascended and there is nothing up here but emptiness. Emptiness and ME. I will end this world now, the darkness of the afterlife awaits you all. You will not find peace in that world... I am high and wise, and Jerusalem is my veil. Crumble before me, vermin." And thus, the apocalypse of God was spoken, for the first and the last time he proclaimed to mankind and his message, was that of hate.