Faith and Consequences of Belief

Inner City London, 2009

*

Some will call me insane, others sociopathic or psychopathic, other, more learned men may identify me as being schizophrenic, but they would be wrong; enlightenment is not insanity. Oh God, God, how weary I find myself after having talked to these sycophantic doctors and physicians who only wish to help me, as if they have the means to assist me in my task. None can assist me, least of all a human.

But this is not about them - this is the tale of how I worked to complete the glorious vision granted to me: a vision of glory, power and honour. To be the one to change the world, to bring the human race into the future - what greater honour could be laid upon one's shoulders. I would have left my mark in history, if only they had not stood in my way.

It began February 24th 2009 - the first time my vision appeared to me. I watched, as before me spread a wasteland reaching as far as I could see, bodies littering the ground in various states of ruin, spread in such a manner that they formed a work of art of beauty unimaginable to those whose minds are clouded by morality. Then the voice spoke, words of such glory that have not been heard since the masterful speeches of Adolf Hitler, the former chosen one that my Lord appeared before to bring about the new age of humanity - an age unrestricted by morality and ethics. It was difficult at times when the desired changes never came, and again and again I have to strengthen my resolve to continue the struggle, to continue to hold my loyalty, to give in, and to obey My Lord.

As the days pass I work towards my goal, struggling against the laws of men and morality. The main issue I faced was that, while I had seen my final goal, I had no thoughts as to how I would accomplish this. So I gathered resources, studied bomb making and gun operation, stocking up both mentally and physically for the coming revolution to bring about the new age. I began placing subtle hints in ads in local newspapers and magazines, looking for those who would understand, but ensuring that I would not alert those who would wish to harm my attempts at bringing the new age. I built an underground bunker where I would orchestrate the ascension into the new age.

Finally, I have seen the path; My Lord came to me again, April 15th 2009, the second of my visions. It is clear - I must bring together like minded brothers, those touched by My Lord, those who share my dreams of the new age. The locations are clear in my mind: Broadmoor, Ashworth, Rampton and Carstairs. The time has come - Broadmoor first. The journey has truly begun.

I pull up across the road from the front gates: the first step of any good plan is observation - discover the patterns of the prey, form your concepts around that pattern, and then strike. I watched shift changes at 11am, 2pm, 5pm and so on, every three hours. One of the guards covering the 2am to 5am shift would turn to the left to leave when all the other guards would turn right - he was my mark, he was my way inside.

It is 450am, April 24th 2009 - I'm waiting for the guards to change shift. All my equipment is readied for this occasion; knife sharpened, gun loaded, face obscured and clean up kit is prepared. There he is. I get out of my car and begin to slowly follow him at a distance. I close the distance between us slowly but steadily, making my way towards him from behind. I pull the knife from my pocket and flip the blade out. Crouching quickly as I continue to make up the distance, I take a pebble off the ground, taking aim, I toss it at the back of his head. As it flies through the air I begin to run as silently as I can. The stone finds its mark. He begins to turn. As he faces me and opens his mouth, I shove my left hand into his mouth and ram the knife into his trachea, silencing his cries before he has a chance to express them, quickly moving my left hand under his throat to prevent the blood from getting on his uniform. I quickly strip the guard of his clothes and everything either in his pockets or on his person. Finding his guard I.D. I discover who was the first cleansed in the journey to the new age - Matthew McGransom, 29. I wish him luck in his next life and hope that he won't spend too much time among the damned. I dump the now useless corpse over the side of the bridge and burn the gloves I was wearing. Having thrown the ashes downwind, I return to my car.

Part one of my plan complete, I move onto part two - infiltration. I walk towards the front gate, former guard Matthew's uniform on and his I.D. in place. Keeping my face hidden from any lurking cameras, I place the I.D. against the panel that checks for authenticity. Having confirmed that the I.D. is real, I walk through the gate, one hand in my jacket pocket clutching my gun, on the lookout for any real guards. No one could be allowed to stop me this close to completion.

Footsteps, that's what I remembered. Turning on my heel as fast as I could, I fire off a round, striking the guard in the chest and ensuring that he would never stand up again. The noise from the gun is unimaginable - I hadn't factored this into my plan. It must have awoken every inmate on this level and maybe even the levels above. I hear shouts. I fire off more rounds, this time at the movements coming round the corner. I didn't notice the guard coming from behind me - that is, until he struck the back of my head with his baton. Falling to the floor stunned, I notice the guard picking up the gun from where I dropped it, turning the barrel so that it's facing my stomach, he moves his finger to the trigger. I can see him mentally preparing himself, the struggle between vengeance and morality; even in this moment of vulnerability, human morals amuse me. His face turns to a snarl, he pulls the trigger, "you bastard" - the last thing I hear before oblivion takes me.

Day, unknown, time, unknown, I wake. Bandages wrapped across my torso, hands chained to the side of my bed. The man seated beside my bed notices that I'm waking. "Now Peter, may I call you Peter? Why did you do it? Why did you break in and kill those people?" He asked.

"No, no, you can't call me Peter, I don't answer to that name anymore, I am the Bringer, and it is my duty to bring about the new age of humanity." I respond.

"Peter, I'm shocked, that doesn't sound like a very good reason to kill those people, please Peter I just want to help you."

I decide not to answer.

"Please Peter, I'm here for you, not for me, the government wants to lock you up, I just want what is best for you."

"My Lord commands me and I do his will. Broadmoor's inmates will rise and do his bidding." The man looks shocked, and moves his hand to a button that I hadn't noticed. As soon as he presses it, I feel a foreign substance flow through my veins. As I feel myself returning to oblivion, I hear the man who was talking to me conversing with someone else.

"No, I'm afraid that he can't be helped. We have no other options - he must be kept here, highest security level possible. I only wish we could help him." Inwardly I laugh. I'm here - the time has come. I must convince the inmates to rise.

Comforted by this thought, I embrace oblivion.


Broadmoor Prison, 2010

*

Eyes open, scanning surroundings, blank walls, blank ceiling, blank floor- all an indication of the blank minds of those that created this beige hell that I currently inhabit. Broadmoor Hospital: the most famous high security psychiatric prison in the British Isles and the former home of prophets of My Lord such as Graham Young. Smiling, I consider the honour that it is to be in the home of such legends. My Lord’s goal of the new age, while not going exactly to the plan, was still on track. I’m in Broadmoor, home to those that My Lord wishes to recruit, those that have seen the truth and are open to Him.

Exiting my cell, I walk towards the dining hall: it’s lunchtime. As I step into the hall, I spot those who I have been talking to, the ones that are close to accepting My Lord. Walking over to them I’m intercepted by one of the so-called doctors of this institute.

“Now Peter, you’ve been sitting with those people quite a lot in recent times, wouldn’t you rather sit next to some people that you haven’t talked to yet?”

That doesn’t sound like it would help my plan. “I don’t want to talk to other people yet, I want to talk to those who are willing to accept My Lord.”

“Mr Mason, I’m afraid that we really must insist that you sit elsewhere for today at the very least.”

By this time a guard had joined the doctor, and as it had turned out, the guards did not forgive the prisoner that had killed three of their own. While the guard who had shot me had been transferred to Ashworth, the other guards here had been more than willing to make my life even less bearable than it would have been in the beige hell. I decide that it would be for the best if I sat somewhere other than my usual spot today.

Moving across the hall I spot some others that look like they might listen to me. I walk towards them and take a seat. One of the men sitting there looks angry at the fact that I’m here. “What the hell do you want tubs?”

“I have an, opportunity for you gentlemen…”

“Ha, hear that lads, we’re gentlemen. Now listen you tubby little toerag, in case you don’t know, I’ve been declared dangerous, so either you move off or I exercise some of the benefits of being dangerous.”

“Now then, please, I’ve got something that you might be interested in, a chance to do violence and escape here.”

“Is that so?

“Yes.”

“A chance to do violence and to escape this boring hellhole?”

“Exactly.”

“Well why the hell didn’t you say so.” He shoved the guy to his left off the bench. “Shift yourself, here mate, sit down and tell me about this chance to do harm.”

Taking a seat I thank My Lord for the gifts he’s given me, to allow me to get through to these thugs and imbeciles.

*

There’s a knocking on my door, confused, I walk towards it. Why someone would want to talk to me in the middle of the night I don’t know. I open the door.

“What do you wa…..” Stumbling backwards I clutch my bleeding nose.

The clump of boots running into my room draws my attention, looking up I see some of the guards looking down on me with angry and hateful expressions. I guess it’s clubbing time again. The guards begin to rain blows upon me, feet, fists, batons, hammering down on my soft human flesh over and over again. I bear the torture willingly and without complaint, My Lord is testing me, he want to see if I have what it takes to stay strong to him and continue the task that he has given me.

Three days since the last clubbing night, my bruises are healing my nose is reset, the pain in my ribs has receded and My Lord has granted me a new vision. I now know how I am to escape Broadmoor and bring the merciful wrath of my Lord upon the denizens of this world. All that I need to accomplish now is to get the inmates of Broadmoor on His side, I need to convince those that live here to join My Lord and rise up against their holders. It is time.

*

5 months later as I’m walking through the hallways I make eye contact with all those that I’ve been talking to about serving my lord, some had to be convinced verbally others needed a more personal style of coercion. As a group we walk into the dining hall before spreading out to ensure that the loyal followers of My Lord occupy all areas of the hall. We wait until most of the other inmates have eaten their fill and have left. Once I feel that enough people have left I take to my feet and look around at all those who are loyal the Lord.

“Our time has come.” The guards look at me in confusion and irritation. “Our time to rise, our time to take back our freedom and to bring Our Lord’s mercy to those who are not righteous.” The guards begin to move towards me, anger in their eyes as they reach to their hips for their batons. “RISE! Rise my brothers and fight.” More guards pour into the dining hall, inmates that had been beginning to stand to fight where sitting back down, fear etched into their features.

Guards surround me ordering me to my knees, but they don’t matter, all that matters is My Lord. His strength fills me. He wants me to succeed, pushing the pitiful humans off me I run towards the doors, bursting into the hallway I send inmates that had come to investigate the disturbance flying. I continue running, the shouts and footfalls of the guards falling far behind me, stairs, I take them two at a time and continue moving up, towards the roof, towards escape, all that matters is the goal, the new age, I must escape it must occur, for the good of humans. I hit the final door.

Locked.

It doesn’t budge, so I move to the left of the door.

There’s a window taking a few steps back I align myself with the centre of the window, the shouts of the guards sound closer now, the forerunners round the corner, I smile.

My Lord is calling. I must heed his summons. Running as fast as I can, I jump towards the window.

I have little memory of the last few moments, shards of glass, the feeling of flight.

Impact.

As I lay broken, surrounded by my blood, I feel My Lord enter my fading spirit.

“My Lord… I’m sorry… I failed you… please forgive me, Lord, please…”