Tag Archives: #cult

A Tangled Web

Image: Co-Pilot AI Generated

A Tangled Web

As I approached I could see another bouquet adorning my beloved’s gravesite. That makes new flowers nine days straight. I thought while trying to put the puzzle pieces together in my head. It may have been going on longer, but it had been months since I last visited.

The pain of Ethel’s loss had paralysed me. I wore the grief like a pair of cement shoes. At first I moved through the sludge unaware that I was sinking deeper as it hardened around me. The weight of the unbearable darkness blinding me from finding any escape. I’m not a young man and even time, the healer of all things, seemed unlikely to be enough to free me.

Image: Co-Pilot AI Generated

White lilies, pink and purple roses, and some other greenery set in a white vase. The same vase that three days ago held a single red rose. Who was leaving these flowers? Wooing her from the grave in my neglect.


Six thirteen, the sun blinking her eyes open to greet the new day. A thin sliver of warm light cut Roger in two. Tucked behind the old sycamore, itself standing tall before the thick bramble that lined the boundary between the living and the dead. Inconspicuous, like the ghosts that walked this place for a hundred years, he watched.

Image: Unknown

A small figure sauntered through the open gate. Something clasped in their hand as they weaved amongst the other graves, careful to tread lightly. They stopped to make the sign of the cross at a fresh site before continuing. Roger felt anticipation, dread, the mystery coming to conclusion or maybe just beginning.

Alex? His long-time assistant from what seemed another lifetime approached the grave. What are they doing here? Did she know? Had she taken our secrets to her grave?

Alex knelt before the grave, discarding yesterday flowers, replacing them with a small fresh wreath. Alex sat there for a long moment. Roger thought he could see a tear fall. He wanted to reach out, but his own guilt rooted him in place, like the old sycamore concealing his position. The past worming its way to the surface, all his failings and insecurities rushing out.

Ten years had passed since Roger last saw Alex. The pair had fought many corporate battles side by side and become the best of friends. Both he and Ethel had welcomed Alex into their family. One summer evening in the den, Roger and Alex crossed the line from friends to lovers. Passion fueling their indiscretion as Ethel prepared dessert down the hall.

That spark would ignite a fire that would burn for just over a year. When Ethel was present it was as if nothing had changed but when she wasn’t it was intensely intimate right up until Alex abruptly resigned. Roger recalled how it was when Alex left. The struggled capturing what he had with the woman he loved and the broken heart his confidante left behind.


I continued to visit the grave two or three time a week after that. Always waiting until I was certain Alex wasn’t going to be there. Every time I visited there were fresh flowers waiting for me, for her. I had plenty of questions that I didn’t want answered so I avoided any chance of confrontation.

Image: Co-Pilot AI Generated

One afternoon as I dozed on the porch of our old home I was startled awake by a familiar voice.

“Roger, how have you been?”

I looked up to see Alex standing with one resting on the first step. I didn’t know what to say. “Alex, what, nice to see you?” Hardly a graceful comeback. Their unmistakable scent filling the air I had to take a moment to catch my breath. It was like they’d never left. “I didn’t think I ever see you again.” I was careful to not slip, to say anything about Ethel’s graveside visits.

“She knew, you know. I didn’t tell her but she was already a step ahead.”

I grimaced and then asked, “How and when?”

“She knew almost from the start. She asked one afternoon as we lay in each others’ arms. I didn’t know what to say but she immediately saw it in my eyes. She reached over, brushed the hairs from my face and kissed me. Although we spend many hours together after that, we never spoke of it again.”

“How long Alex?”

“Right up until the end… She loved both of us, just as you did. I couldn’t ask her to leave you but I also couldn’t reconcile how we all fit together. I had to make a choice, and she took that secret with her.”


Credits and Additional Information

Blind Faith

Image: Greg Glazebrook @ GMGCreative.

Blind Faith

It had been weeks (or so it seemed) since his holiness led our congregation on a hike into the wilderness. An expedition to seek our salvation. Mostly it was a mix of exhaustion, meditation, hallucinogenic tea, and the promise of something better. The promise seemed emptier with every step along this journey.

“Stop with this doubt, you’ve come such a along way.” I screamed to myself in a whisper, the palm of my hand smacking against my forehead.

It was difficult to hold a train of thought with my gut screaming at me like a muthafu…
We’d been subsisting on the tea and some lukewarm liquid prepared by the congregation’s women weeks ago. It couldn’t have been real food because it didn’t seem to spoil. I was told it was designed to ensure we were pure in mind and body for the coming cleanse.

I joined a hunting party a couple of nights ago after Carl had retired. We’d fashioned makeshift bows and arrows and set out to catch anything we could find. A couple of rabbits made the untimate sacrifice, but the skinny rodents could only coughed up scraps. We built a small fire to cook our kill, but some were so hungry they picked the meat raw from the bone.

As the sun rose across the mountains and crept into our camp, His holiness Carl emerged from his tent. He was a slight man, unassuming in almost every way. His gifts were not physical but he could hold conversation, draw you into whatever narrative he was preaching. If just one of us had opened our eyes for even a moment it would have become evident that while we starved Carl thrived. I sure his concubines were in the know but the rest of us were too blind to see.

Morning always started with pray and a sermon from Carl but today was different. The usual routines were replaced with a sense of forboding. Today was the day we would ascend into the heavens. Everything we had brought with us, everything we’d made was gathered into the center of camp. A colossal column of smoke rising into the morning air casting a dark shadow over the clearing, blotting out the morning sun. Some now realizing this was a one way trip.

The hike seems lighter and somehow heavier today as we moved through the trees. “Are you coming or not?” Carl demanded as he took a few steps further onto the small ledge. He raised his arms and began to chant something in tongues. The line behind him had stopped moving, gripped with a new fear. Many believing flying was only a metaphor.

“It is our time to soar on the wings of God. Who will offer themselves up first.” he said as the the ringing of gunfire at the back ripped through the thin mountain air.

The echo jolting me back to reality as I tried to run from the trail. At the front, the crush pushing the congregation over the edge. Some, true believer spreading their wings as they fell over the precipice, other pushing agaisnt the tide to get back from the cusp. Fifteen, maybe 20 paces from the trail searing pain rip through my abdomen. Falling next to my wife and onto my two young children. Imploring them to remain calm and quiet. The life draining from my eyes praying, like it was the first time, that the plume of smoke had drawn someones attention.

It was their only hope…


Credits and Additional Information

Blood Sacrifice

Blood Sacrifice

Beaver Springs was vernacular in every sense. Every detail focused on making the homes of this community intuitively functional, yet unmemorable. An architectural achievement rarely seen in cookie-cutter neighbourhoods.

Despite its utilitarian appeal, there was something deeper, sinister at play. The residents congregated at nightfall, like lions, tense as they waited. Their prey, almost always a woman, plucked from the dirty forgotten streets across town.

When she was too weak to fight back, the sun fixing to rise in the east, they would share in a communion of blood sacrifice.

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Church of the New Covenant

Church of the New Covenant

Brother Ramon awoke, his naked body aching and weak. His head pounding, swimming in a fog of confusion. Fragments of monochromatic light, blurry shades of gray and white filtering into the emptiness behind his eyes. This is what blindness must feel like, he thought. If only his nose was as impaired as his vision, the stench of this place was strong enough to fell an advancing army.

There was nothing before this moment. His mind blank like a book set to page 113, nothing but stark white emptiness filling the preceding pages. Who was he? Where was he?

Ramon rolled onto his side. Reaching out to feel his surrounding, the floor pushing back as he ran his hand across the cold stone. As he continued to probe his surroundings, the stone gave way to rough-hewn fabric. He gripped and pulled but something held it in place. Leveraging its weight, he dragged himself to the object anchoring the cloth.

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