The Mock Queen

It began in a pantheon of false gods. A legislature. A governing body of the people, by the people, for the people. Here gathered arch villains and nemeses. In the seat of reckoning sat my mother. Speaker of the Ohio State Legislature. "The age of blood and wine is at its end. For I, the Antichrist, have brought salvation. No more murder. No more rape. No more civil disobedience. It is all a passing day." The hall erupted in applause. "For do not mistake me, denizens. For it is true, that I am indeed the antichrist. I have yet to lie and to abuse any sacred oath to come. But indeed, I am who I say I am. I am indeed the reverent servant I claim to be. And does this not make me any different than the rest of humanity? A meager birth defect bestowed on me by a tyrannical angel with hopes to overthrow His majesty? But if say, I were to renounce this minor deformity, and to renounce all evil set within my heart, would the ever so kind God of mercy find it in his heart to forgive a fallen angel? I believe it is so. I believe it is so. May my work be seen as an offering. An act of penance to restore the chaotic world we were shamefully cast into. Let the era of blood end, and the era of peace begin!" I felt sick to my stomach after listening to all of that nonsense.

Although new policies originated in Ohio, The Federal Commission was so kind to grant grant aids to the other states, who were eager to reenact the words spoke on that day. It was a curious question. Would my mother be the next president of the United States? Perhaps, however when approached by the Democratic National Convention, she certainly showed no interest in the executive. The media was of no assistance. The people were enthralled by the female Antichrist and her reverent policies made to serve mankind. It was different. Even the radical extremists, with their gilt elitist theories, babbling Builder Burgs and framing Foreign Relations all for a larger plot of the New World Order. They too, supported this cause. I, however, did not.

My mother was well known for her ideological spiels, even before the the revelation. Upon revelation of her true character, of her true script, she fully understood the depth of her philosophies. The built in mechanism embroidered into her cranium. It had suddenly clicked one day, and it was made apparent as she was able to answer any question or reply there was. Even if it was not known in the present, she replied without any sort of hesitation or confusion. It could be trivial as well. Such as, what are the contents within my pocket? A wallet containing no cash, but a priceless dream I read to myself scribbled upon a note. "Goal: Become a successful author that gives at least 60% of my earnings to charity and have at least 5-10 books published. -I must learn how to forgive in order to do this." Albeit a cheap magic trick, her knowledge extended far beyond just answering questions. Suppose she wanted to strike a fire, but did not have a match. It would appear right before her very eyes. It bewildered and frightened us! Soon her reputation spread quickly amongst the neighborhood. Often times she invited the more, philosophical residents, to dine at our table. Face to face she seemed fascinated and amazed to share such strange ideals with the intellectuals. However, she spoke scornfully and bitterly of them in private. Never to my father, my grandmother or my sister. But to me alone. Always, me alone would she reveal her ideologies. Referring to me as, Old Soul. A Socrates within a young boy. I asked one day, "What exactly are you?" "Oh?" she said in reply, "I am the Antichrist." My heart sunk. "The--?" "Yes," she said abruptly, "Were you expecting a male? Before I came to realization, I believed so too! However, I understand my own true calling now. It is I who was created by your grandfather for the purpose of," she smiled, "...well, you're well aware already." "My g-grandfather...?" I stammered. "Oh, you know who!" she smiled ruffled my hair then went on about her way.

Several months had passed and my family had found itself in wealth and overflowing abundance. Bills overdue were taken care of. My sister and I was placed in better schooling. We spent more time at home with personal tutoring. My grandmother was given her own servants from the Philippines. They served her cuisine that she was well already acquainted with. My mother led a congregation at our local church. The perish was well aware of her circumstances, as was I, but they accepted her in open arms. I did not. Soon after she ran for state legislature. The vote was unanimous. She was elected congresswoman for the Ohio State Legislature. Within weeks, change was apparent. Lower teen pregnancy rates. Less automobile accidents. Higher test scores and fewer dropouts. Not only that, but life itself became a luxury. Wireless Internet connection anywhere you went. No service charge required. In the summer months, it became natural to see both men and women of all ages to be out nude in public without judgement. Crime rates had declined. Fewer rape cases and murder trials, judges began giving out incentives for positive behavior, rather negative, in order to reinforce these new additions. Still, I could not help myself to accept all of this.

It had been hours since the speech had ended, yet I found myself still waiting for my mother to arrive home. On the television I saw the devil in high heels upon a podium. The crowd worshiped the mock queen. Canonized by a popular demand, just as the Roman emperor. Midnight passed. She proudly emerged through the front doors with a devilish grin. "You're still awake?" she asked. "I've been meaning to ask you a question," I said immediately. "I always answer honestly," she said. "If you are the Antichrist, why hasn't the rapture begun?" She chuckled, "There is no rapture," she said, "If God had truly cared for you, he would've taken you from this Earth by now. If he had truly wanted to stop me by now, he would've done so. Don't you understand? I am the new God now. Why else would he send me here to do his work?" "I don't believe you..." I said, "I don't fucking believe you..." "Oh, but it's true!" she said, "You will see." "You're not my mother," I said, "You are NOT my mother." "I am your moth--" "SHUT UP!" I screamed, "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING LIAR!" I grabbed her by the neck and held her against the wall. With my other hand I pounded her with my fist. She grinned and laughed gently. "WIPE THAT FUCKING SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE!" I was using both hands this time. With every blow she continued to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. I was out of breath and I had not even made a mark on her. She slowly sat up against the wall. "Would you like to know something else?" she asked. She grinned, "You're dreaming." Then I realized: She was absolutely right.