Well the 'fun' continues. Lots of angst coming (just thought I'd warn you)
This week's prompts: "He's mine to do with as I please" or "welcome to the grand illusion" or use: cabbage, rose, napkin or have a character that is being followed or "She's a slut with a capital S!" or use a hopscotch game in your story or "tiptoe through the tulips" or "Who are you?"
“Can I help you? Are you interested in seeing the house? Just officially came on the market today.” Ben had been getting the house on Elm Street ready for showing. He was putting the for sale sign up when a stranger came by. He was dressed in a suit and a tie; to all intents and purposes he just appeared like an average guy. Despite this, Ben’s little voice was telling him this was trouble coming at him.
“Me and my missus are looking for a house. I was driving by and noticed you were hammering that for sale sign into the ground.”
“Sure, is your wife with you?” Ben looked to the car parked behind his in the driveway. He noticed a license place that read Lords Way.
“No, she’s at the church, getting ready for a special event. I figured I’d take a look at this house and take some photos on my cell phone and show them to her. We’ve already looked at so many houses I wanted to save her some heartache and not waste her time looking at any more if they didn’t have what we’re wanting.”
“I can give you a tour. The house was built in 1974, and it’s undergone some upgrades. Let me get the specs from my car and we can go inside.” Ben went to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door and was going through the folder he had on the seat. Something on the stranger’s car windshield caught his attention. There was a parking placard sitting on the dashboard that read Westboro Baptist Church Lancaster parking. A cold feeling of dread permeated Ben’s insides. This was a hate group, one who persecuted gays, and they were the same group that shot up an Amish School a couple of years ago. He fished out his cell phone and was just about to dial 911 when his world went dark.
* * * *
“Uh, what? Where am I?” He looked around the room; he was sitting on a stage, his hands handcuffed to the arms of a chair. “Who are you?” The man who he’d seen at the house was standing in front of him, holding a Bible in his hand.
“And this, this is one of the heathens we are trying so hard to fight against their vile, disgusting ways.”
Ben looked past the man and saw a group of men and women sitting in what looked like pews. He was in a church, and the man who had kidnapped him looked to be a preacher.
“And it says in the good book...” The preacher held the Bible up above his head. "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them shall be put to death for their abominable deed; they have forfeited their lives. I have seen this man kissing another man, holding hands, and you just know they were fornicating.” The preacher gestured to the gold Jewish star that hung around Ben’s neck. Tom had given it to him as a Chanukah gift a few years ago. “He’s a Jew bastard as well.”
Well, it looked like that was two strikes against him. “We’re human beings just like you, we’re supposed to love one another. That is what God wants us to do. What difference should it make who I love? God is supposed to be about love, isn’t he, and loving thy neighbor? I don’t remember it ever saying except if you don’t agree with who he is or who he loves.” Ben felt like he was pleading for his life which, by the looks of these people and what he knew about them, he was.
“Blasphemer, you will not talk about the Lord. You are a sinner!”
“Imagine allowing a piece of text from two thousand years ago decide for you that you have to hate a specific group of people, despite the fact they haven't done anything to you.”
By the looks on the faces of these people, there wasn’t any way for him to change their minds about anyone who was different then they were.
Ben knew Tom would be worried about him not showing up for dinner, and would be looking for him. His office knew where he was supposed to be. But how would Tom find him now? Ben believed in God, but he wasn’t overly religious. He observed a few of the Jewish holidays. Last Saturday it was Yom Kippur; he’d gone to Shul to say Yizkor for his parents whom he’d lost years ago. He hoped he lived to see Tom again; he prayed he would. Never hurt to pray.
My fellow flashers: