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Blind Faith [12 Genre Months]

“Are you one of them now?” I asked.

“You know me,” he replied.

“No, I don’t. Not anymore.”

Our pistols were drawn from their holsters–their muzzles aimed to kill. One of us would die today, and the other would live on with regret. If only he had listened to me. If only he had turned the offer down. I warned him that he would lose sight of himself. But, he was stubborn. He wanted the thrill. He found excitement in the dangers that entailed. And because of that–a selfish pursuit–another member on our team had to die.

“I’m not one of them,” he stated, holding an unfamiliar, placid mien–a sign that he had, indeed, changed.

“You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Why did you join them?”

“I didn’t join them.”

“We know what’s going to happen tonight. So spare me the lies.”

He hesitated–his gaze shifted to the dust-laden cement floor. It was an involuntary reaction, one that occured within a split second–one I was trained to spot.

“Fine,” he said.

The world was deep in slumber. There were no witnesses in the abandoned warehouse, where we would soon bury our relationship and the truth that came with it. The secrets shared would remain within the peeling, crumbling walls. And the blood spilled would fade to a stain no one would question. But before I put the case to rest, I needed to know how and why.

“How did they change you?”

“They didn’t change me. I’m still me.”

“No, you’re different.”

I had known him for ten years. And though people do change, no change can drastically occur within three months. His unemotional, nonchalant approach in the face of death was alien. I was confident he wasn’t the man I knew. Amongst the others, he had never been able to master such courage. Despite his enthusiasm for death-defying missions, he couldn’t stare down an enemy without a flicker of fear in his eyes. But that night, he could. He could pull the trigger–murder the man who had saved his life countless times–without any hesitation.

“Think what you want,” he said. “But I’m still me–a better, un-corrupted version of me.”

“Is that why you joined them?”

“You would too, if only you saw the truth.”

“I don’t do cults.”

“We’re not a cult. We’re a movement–a resistance against your blind faith.”

“That’s what all cults call themselves–a movement, a resistance, playing gods over humanity.”

“It saddens me how you fail to see the light.”

“I’m sorry–I’ve yet to attain enlightenment.”

“You mock me now, but you’ll soon regret your words.”

Yes, regret. Regret that I would soon have to end the life of the man I once called brother. Or regret that I would soon die at his hands. But the latter wasn’t an option. This enemy was growing at an alarmingly rapid rate. Their recruitment efforts–whatever they were–were working. Two of our men had died in attempts to leave their premises, one went missing, and two openly lied about their stance–one of which I had to put down six months ago. Five elite soldiers, trained to face the worst of humanity, now lost in battle. So I clicked the hammer of my handgun.

“You’ll regret your actions,” I replied. Still, I hesitated.

There were only three of us left. If the remaining of us failed, it would be the end of the Delta team. Would Epsilon succeed after us? As my finger grazed the trigger, I shoved those doubts aside. I had to do my job, so I said a silent goodbye to another fallen member. And just before he put a bullet through my head, I put a bullet through his.

As his body fell limp to the ground, I heaved a sigh. I had to dispose of another body, but not before I made the call. They had to know. They were waiting. After two rings, the Master answered.

“Has he gone to meet with the Lord?” Master asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Then let us pray that the Lord has mercy on him.”

“I will pray through the night, Master.”

“Will you be returning to the temple tomorrow?”

“I cannot–I’m afraid they are watching me.”

“Then stay safe and be vigilant, my son. Our Temple of Eternity will keep you in prayer, too.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Blessed is the pure of heart.”

“Blessed is the pure of heart.”

At the click of the phone line, I heaved another sigh. Master would soon send another member of our team behind enemy lines. It wouldn’t be me–I was the only one who could restore order if one of our remaining men fell. But should they fail, my time would come. With enough prayer, I have faith I can withstand the lies of the enemy. After all, as Master said, I own the purest heart amongst them all.

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12 Genre Months © 2018 by Jeyna Grace. All rights reserved.

(Click HERE for the list of stories in this writing challenge.)

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Posted by on March 22, 2018 in Original Works

 

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Espionage

espionageThere I was, arm stretched out with a loaded pistol in my hand. My eyes were on target and I simply had to pull the trigger to end it all. But at that very moment, I waited.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. No, he demanded.

I remained silent to his angry question, not because I did not know what to say but because I was not sure if my answer was acceptable.

“Are you going to shoot me now? Your childhood friend?!” he demanded. His words were fuelled with a concoction of pain and hatred put together by my betrayal.

“Answer me dammit! Have you grown mute?”

As I stared him straight in the eye, with the coldest expression on my face, I saw him break. His eyes were watering and the hand he held his pistol with began to shake. He was not doing this to himself, I was.

Since the day I said ‘yes’ to the other side, I cut off all ties to the life I had. My friends were no longer my friends, my family was no longer my family, and the organization I worked for was now the one I betrayed. No, I was not forced. It might seem so but there was no gun pointing at my head when I joined the other side. I made the decision and I’ve stuck with it for years.

When he asked me why I decided to switch sides and turn on everyone I once loved, I wanted to tell him it was because it felt right. There was money, protection, and a whole lot of other promises, but the only reason why I flipped was because it felt right. I felt as though it was the normal choice to make, and somehow they managed to convince me that I was fighting for the wrong cause all along.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, this time in exasperation. He seemed tired and he dropped his hand to his side.

I don’t know, I silently said.

“Seeing you right now, it’s like you have been brainwashed. Are you just going to do what they tell you to do? You have a choice, man. You can stop it all and come back with me. Please just come back with me,” he pleaded, as his body language indicated he was letting his guard down.

He was easing up, but I was far from it. Even though my arm was growing tired, I still held it straight. One shot was all I needed to end the night. I had a disc in my other hand full of information I needed to take down my former employer, and I just wanted to get it over with.

“I have a choice,” I said.

“Yes, you do!” he quickly replied, thinking he had successfully convinced me.

 “I choose this,” I said.

“What?” he asked, unable to believe his ears.

“You heard me,” I simply replied.

He laughed. It was a laugh of disbelief; short, strained and false. The kind of laugh that marked the end of a long and faithful friendship. As though the world could sense it too, the night sky acknowledged our broken ties and grumbled softly.

When his laugh faded, there was a brief moment of silence between us, but I waited. I gave him time to come to terms with my betrayal. That was the least I could do for him, in fact the last thing I could ever do for him. When he finally accepted that I was a lost cause, he shook his head, wiped his eyes and then lifted his pistol again. His arm was firm and his eyes locked on mine. At that very moment, we were a mirror image of each another.

“This is it then. You’re going to kill me,” he said. Anger, pain, and disbelief had left his voice.

“I don’t have to if you get out of my way,” I replied. I didn’t want to kill him, but if he insisted on making things hard I would not hesitate to shoot.

“I’m not moving. You have to shoot me,” he boldly stated.

Fine, I said to myself. A millisecond after that, a bullet shot out of my pistol and whizzed through the cold night air. He did not see it coming and his reflexes could not dodge the bullet that went straight for his head. Before the clock could tick another second, the bullet hit its target and sent it shattering into pieces.

It was a loud shatter as the mirror crashed to the ground. The tiny motel floor was now scattered with glass shards. As I remained seated, I stared at where the standing mirror once stood. I silently told myself he was gone, and that side of me was never going to stand in my way again.

Knowing that the gunshot would send people to my room, I pushed him out of my head and quickly got to my feet, tucking my pistol into its holster as I did. Without wasting anymore time, I grabbed my belongings and the disc before climbing out the back window.

Now all I needed to do was make a call and drop the coveted information off. I made my decision that night, I was not forced into it… it was my choice.

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There will be a time in our lives where we choose a side; the side that seems right and the side that reflects our hearts. And when that time comes, will we go for the side that tells us what to do and what we should believe in, or will we stay true to the person we grew up with?

Often times, we find it hard to go against the grain and be ourselves, so we choose to act and behave a certain way just to fit in with the majority. But every time we do that, we betray ourselves. We are taking what we know about ourselves and handing it over to the world, where the world can use it to judge and conform us. Yes, it might seem right and the most common choice, but is loosing yourself in the process really worth it? No one is forcing you in this decision, so choose wisely.

Anyway, I hope you guys liked this story 🙂 Do let me know what you think of it in the comments below!

© 2014 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

 
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Posted by on May 22, 2014 in Original Works

 

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