The cold smoothbore steel barrel pushed against Taylor’s forehead. Smoke hung in the air like spirits dancing in the sky. It obscured the stars shadowing them from view. The smell of rich oak and charred brick permeated through the air. It burned her nostrils, forcing the air to thicken hindering Taylor's ability to breathe. The warmth settled on her back, yet she shivered. "Don't look back. It was just a blazing inferno. It was just a blazing inferno," she repeated to herself.
The towering barrel stood laughing in the wind before he lowered his gaze onto her. His black vest held a white patch with a red cross in the center. The patch was reflected on every man that surrounded her. The same bastards who had just destroyed everything she ever cared about. Her knees had gone numb sitting in this position, but this man had full intentions of keeping her there for as long as he saw fit. The screams of her family were piercing the dark moonless night. It was so beautiful, so peaceful it felt like a dream. The eerie tantalizing beauty of the stars beaming in the heavens juxtaposed the horrors that raged around here on Earth. Taylor started to laugh. She fought the urge with every muscle fiber in her body but this would be in vain. It was just too hysterical. She laughed and laughed until tears ran down her face. Her father had told her she would be forever safe as long as he was alive. Well, he kept the end to his word. He was always an honest man putting thought and care into every word he said. Truth was paramount to him. "What a joke he stayed an honest man," Taylor thought to herself as her dad lay sprawled out unconscious. The head was caved in on his left side with his two brown eyes looking up at the sky. He looked peaceful, as if his body was just at rest, but she knew her father would ever truly wake up. She remembered when the first hammer was brought down, carving a deep gouge into her father’s skull. The terror in his eyes as the knife went through his chest. He turned toward his family trying to say something, but all that came forth was a pool of red blood drooling down his chin. The men daunting their red cross patch with pride had raised their rifles. In unison turned her dad into target practice for their new initiates. Each one of them ejecting the empty magazine from their rifles and replacing with loaded ones ready to fire another volley. Her mother went to grab her and her two older sisters in a vain motherly attempt of protection, but the three of them were grabbed by their hair and dragged away struggling the entire way. She always was a protective mother. Always her best to shield her children from the evils of this world. Taylor didn't know if she would ever see her again. After all it was just her, kneeling, before the executioners barrel. The fat slob that was guarding her laughed as the screams ripped through the air. The tears still ran down her face. Laughter still pressed against her stomach waiting for the opportune moment, but she held it in. It was all she could do.
“Kill me, please.” She looked at her dirt coated hands. Her family had just started sifting the soil this morning. The process allowed the plants to breathe as it removed rocks and other large objects that would hinder their growth. Her dad seemed ecstatic this year, for the family would be tending the front pasture this year. They had rested the soil the year prior. This in turn allowed an improvement of the once decimated soil structure as well as a decrease in the volume of corrosion they faced in years past. Taylor's mind would daydream about the whimsical prospects of future gleanings. Her bloated belly was a symbol of the previous years' famine. Last year's harvest had been decimated by a terrible infestation of stink bugs devouring their crops. They sucked the life out of the plants causing them to wither and die. Her father rejoiced when his experiments discovered garlic kept the critters at bay and boasted how the family would dot the field with this wondrous plant. Making security against the intruders and striking a profit. Taylor remembered joyfully rummaging through and examining the soybeans, squash, asparagus, corn, cucumbers, and tomatoes they would eventually plant, cultivate, nurture, and eventually grow for food or sale. Alas, it was for nothing. These thugs saw to keep that dream, just a dream. "Kill me please" she once again said meekly. It was torture staying alive.
Her vision went dark, and when she could see again the earth was rotating. A boot came stomping on the back of her head driving it further into the ground. It smothered any wishful thoughts she would wake up and everything would be returned to normal. The floodgates continued pouring from her mahogany eyes down her face. Her hands clung to her face grasping for reality. Taylor was looking for a sign her body was still hers. It was a stranger's, a doppleganger must have broken in and stolen her mind. It had to be the reason she was an onlooker, a bystander, looking in but not able to control herself.
The man's laugh felt like daggers piercing her body and twisting through her innards. He ordered her to be quiet and spoke of annoyance as his boot was raised. Taylor pushed herself up trying to regain some sanity before the boot came collapsing down again. Her head rang like church bells announcing the service and all the sinners were being welcome everlasting salvation. These sinners didn't deserve any grace and would face eternal damnation for their transgressions. When this was over they would wish they were in hell.
The laughing bouts came again. Taylor laughed and she howled at the moon. The tears kept streaming down but the joke didn't end. It continued way past the punchline was ran itself six feet into the ground. Even when the boot came striking into her stomach it didn't stop the hysterics. Her body compressed as the wind left the lungs flying out of her mouth. Her throat began hacking as Taylor grabbed her stomach in pain. This bastard with his steel toed boots would indeed plead for his life after she was through with him.
Her foot went straight into his knee, flaring pain up her tibia, but caused the man to stagger propping himself up on one knee. His eyes raged with anger. He stood back up and walked over to her slowly. The tell tale sign of a limp was there, yet the boot came flying three more times into Taylor's gut. One more for good measure.
"I get the joke now. What your prissy, pampered self has been laughing at the entire night. I've got to admit, it's the best joke I've heard in a very, very long time, only I'm tired and you have so much-needed ways to entertain me." The butt of the shotgun swung and struck Taylor in the head rolling her onto her side. She curled into a fetal position shielding her vital organs from the violent onslaught that would ensue. The shotgun slammed into her shoulder, bruising the area as the pain welled up inside her. "You're going to regret ever being alive once I'm through with you". The man started to unbuckle his pants, dropping them down his ankles as he worked getting his feet out of his boots.
"Richards, stop." The voice rang like a bullhorn drowning all the soldiers nearby. The night was silent even the crickets feared singing when the man's sharp whip like voice cracked the wind. A pair of refurbished black boots appeared from the shadows slowly revealing a man wearing a camouflage jacket, and well worn blue jeans. A cigarette came up to his mouth, ignited, then was lowered as a cloud of smoke blew out from his lungs. The man fully stepped out from the darkness. He was a lengthy, wiry man with long black hair that parted down the center. A long, grizzled beard protruded from his chin and his lips were surrounded by a handlebar moustache. The man stood strikingly different from the rest of the men. There were no oils caking his face, no dirt embedded on his arms or under his fingernails. His calloused hand was raised with a finger gesturing for this pantless "Richards" to walk towards him.
The fat man staggered over, stumbling over his bare feet. The thought of pulling up his pants had apparently fled from thought. All from what Taylor could see was fear. Taylor could hear the man panting. He sounded like a dog dying from thirst, begging for it to be quenched. He stood no more than ten feet from the wiry man, but his body had become rigid. He was frozen, unable to move.
"On your knees" the wiry man snarled.
The man dropped in an instant his knees colliding into the dirt. He was whimpering. The man had treated her with no such kindness, or her family for that matter whose screams she no longer could hear. The man would pay for what happened to them. She would make sure of it. He continued rambling on and was pleading he did nothing wrong, that he was just going to hurt the girl only a little bit. There was nothing to get upset about.The wiry man paid no attention as he walked past him coming face to face with Taylor.
He lowered, placing his arms on his legs looking squarely into her blood soaked face. "How old are you mam?" This was what he wanted to know, not if she was ok. She was bloody and bruised and this man had the audacity asking only for her age of all things. Blood rushed her head, nauseating her as she started grinding her teeth. She thought he looked like a rat and it brought a giggle in her mind picturing the man as a vermin who gave its last breath when the trap clamped shut around his fragile neck. As hilarious as the picture was to her this rat still sickened her and the way he stared at her apathetically she supposed an answer could be found to his question. Even if he didn't care who she was or what his men did to her. What did he even care about? His eyes showed no humanity in them. She stared back into those soulless pupils full of detest as she growled. "I'm 16…" she meant to say more words, spew something forth hoping it would release some of the anger laid trapped within, but the man turned from her immediately facing squarely at the disgusting beast still bawling his eyes out.
"Richards, richards, richards." The words came out long and drawn out, the wiry man was shaking his head the entire time he walked up to the man. His eyes narrowed on the whimpering man filled with distaste. Men started gathering circling around the man, closing any escape route the fat man might take. Their eyes filled with anticipation as if there was only one possible avenue this confrontation would lead. "What are the rules we follow as brothers of the faith. We are God's, hallowed be thy name, chosen knights. His protectors of this sacred land". His arms spread out wide as he circled the fat man like a vulture ready to pick out the eyes of the deceased corpse. His jacket revealed the same red cross patch as all the others, except his patch flashed a hint purple. She was sure it wasn't imagined.
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"The rules of our father, hallowed be thy name, good will and his words that have been passed down through our ranks." The fat man spoke faintly. His head was lowered, but his whimpers still were audiblem It was very visible he was shaking uncontrollably.
"Precisely. And if I may be so quaint who is God's chosen speaker? The man he has proclaimed to carry his word and spread his gospel throughout these lands rescuing his wandering herd and leading them to paradise''.
The fat man stumbled for his words as if a person had held his tongue. " You… you sir."
"Thank you" the wiry man did a full bow crossing his hand over his body elegantly. A performer who excelled at his practice. "There's just one more thing I need from you. Can you guess what that is." He said toying at the fat man egging him on trying to push him around his breaking point.
"Anything. Anything at all sir. I've been a loyal, good servant. Honestly. I only live to serve and obey to our lord father in heaven, blessed be his name. I've been honest with you… haven't I?" The fat man continued to grobble at the wiry man's feet pleading him for mercy.
The wiry man raised three fingers then switched to one. "My first rule is simple, fully obey the lord your God and follow all of his commands." He raised his second finger," As an instrument to his will, it is by my right, for I have been ordained by our father himself, hallowed be thy name, to carry out his judgment on those who flout actions contrary to his divine will." The man's third finger shot up. The earth was silent except for the fire crackling in the background. The roof, and floor boards began creaking because it could no longer hold firm against the flames. It was dying, but it began consuming itself. The fire burned in the wiry man's eyes as his hand dropped down to his holsters drawing out a .44 pristine silver magnum revolver. "Lastly, to offend our lord our God, hallowed be thy name, he has given me authority. The only appropriate punishment for these despicable acts that overstep divine will is death. You, Richards tried throwing yourself upon a little girl," He clicked the hammer back,"there is no retribution in Hell for sinners like you." The gun went off as blood shot out from his knee. Richards began shrieking wildly, grabbing his knee and starting to roll his body around in the dirt when the second round went through his other knee. Three more rounds were fired back to back to back shattering his shoulder blades and opening up his innards. Richards fidgeted, clawing for his intestines struggling holding them inside. That was before the last round went straight through his skull exploding his head.
"Burn this sack of shit, his soul doesn't belong in this world". Men ran with haste and began pouring liquid over the body. The wiry man walked up to Taylor, his boot squishing in the mud. A set of handcuffs were placed at her knees. "Put those on sweetie" he inhaled his cigarette. "You ain't free to go running around anymore." Taylor spit at his boots. "Listen mam, I'm going to be frank which ya. I know it was my men who burned your home, and killed your father. I regret it, but it's God's divine will to pass judgment on sinners. Your father made some terrible decisions. The devil corrupted him, and though it saddens my heart the task had fallen upon me to free him from his bonds."
"Set him free. Do you hear yourself? Do you honestly believe these lies you tell yourself? You killed him, an honest, loving father for nothing. No disgusting lie you tell yourself that helps you sleep at night will change what happened here."
"Go to hell" Taylor snarled back. She tried to control her temper, but the man infuriated her. He honestly believed showering a man in bullets was rescuing. That she should be kissing his boots for the actions he presided over.
"The world is a cesspool of vipers endlessly hunting for a wounded lamb and locust who will be excited to gorge themselves on what's left of your corpse. You're below the age of 18, by the knight's code a minor will be placed under our protection and guidance until said adolescent reaches adulthood." He spoke as if these strange laws that shackled at her feet bound her to them. As if she was won over because some words from unknown land dictated her life.
"To hell with your laws! To hell with your people! To hell with you!" She snapped back at him. This man, whoever he was, had oversaw the murder of her father. The burning of her home. To hell with him. Hecklers started shouting from the men watching. Their sleek white with red cross patched shined off of the clean black leather jackets. The lot created a conspicuous mob who seemed lacking in the ability of self thought. They were one mind in many bodies boding for a fight between the two of them.
The wiry man closed the distance between them whispering, "may the lord, hallowed be thy name, have mercy upon you child, because I will not. I'm just a man, and I sin and fall short every day. But I am an instrument of his divine will, an ambassador who will see his plan through. You are hindering my plan, and it pains me knowing I will have to deliver pain. But it must be done, for it is written whoever spares the rod hates his children." The slap connected with her cheek jerking her head in an unnatural position. He grabbed her cheeks pinching them inside making her mouth form like a duck bill. "You will hate me child, but it is through hate and pain that you will love me like all my children do."
Taylor accepted her fate, if she fought it would only mean more wounds would cover her already injured body. She slid the handcuffs on her wrists clicking the locks into place securing her fate. The wiry man got up and extended his hand which Taylor grudgingly accepted letting him pull her up. The man guided her over placing her in front of the remnants of what once was her home. She had lived there all her life, but all that now remained was the smoldering ruins of a once beautiful home. Such is how all good things of this Earth always end. In smoke and fire.
The wiry man gestured for her to sit on the Earth. He gestured for a young man who could be no older than twenty bring a pail of water from their well. He was an attractive well built man with well endowed brown eyes, and alluring black hair enveloped with curls. A scar ran down his nose, thin in a quick line. Someone had slashed his nose trying to harm him, but he acted contrary. The man seemed peaceful, as if his mind was at ease. He was contrary to the other men that surrounded her. They seemed to get aroused by her pain, languish in it, but this man for whatever reason resented it.
The well built man brought the pale of water over. It was clear blue and pure.
"Samuel, cleanse this woman from her sins. She has been placed under our care and protection. She is the newest member in our family. Treat and greet her as such." The score of men that surrounded cheered, raising their rifles in the air in celebration. Shots rang out in automatic gunfire randomly pointed towards the sky. The wiry man raised his hand silencing the crowd. They waited, all eyes were watching her chained and stranded. Where were her two sisters? Where was her mother? They couldn't have run off. Were they dead just like her father? The thought caught in her throat, she couldn't believe he was dead. His worn caramel skinned arms always brought comfort. She could rely on him crying to him when the boys that lived in Riverwood would tease her, or when she broke her leg while feeding the cows. He came running in, shielding her from the animals. They didn't have malicious intent, but if they couldn't see a person they would surely trample them to death. By accident of course. The cattle too were being rounded up by these self proclaimed saviors just like the rest of her family. Except for her father of course. Wherever he was, she yearned that he was far away from here.
Two more buckets of water were placed before her. "Let us rejoice for not what we lose, but what we gain from death. This young woman's father has died, but she has accepted everlasting life." The first bucket was picked up and placed over Taylor's head. "The first baptism symbolizes the cleansing of our body. Our spirits are pure, but our bodies are corrupted. Let this be a symbol of the body's sins being washed away, and the new be reborn." The water was cool down her neck running down her shoulders leaving her head dry. The next second Michael pinched her nose and tilted her head back. Her heart started to pound. She urged herself to fight back at this parade, and not let the man make a show out of her defeat. Her body wouldn't move, it still didn't feel like her own. The pit was still there. The home looked so empty and lifeless. Was it always like that?
"The second baptism is washing away our mind. The mind corrupts and distorts. It destroys and seeks only that which will protect itself. It too must be washed in order for one to reach paradise." The water poured down her head. It was pleasant and refreshing, but the wiry man's words ripped apart her innards. This man would help her reach paradise? He set ablaze the only paradise she knew. The air was still heavy with the ashes of the scorched house. Her mind went out for oblivious the town folk. Her friends and enemies. The people she grew up, laughed, and cried with. Were they still breathing or had their breaths been snatched away as well by these crazed monsters? Were they aware of the situation? She would have to warn them, but how?
"The last baptism washes your hands free from your past. Your old life will torment your mind every waking second. We humans are imperfect creatures. We moved towards our past mistakes as much as we breathe. The past must be destroyed in order for a new life to flourish." This was it. Her moment of stardom. The onlooking anticipation bristled in their eyes. It was unnerving for the amount of strangers gathered around her. These were ruthless men who showed her father no quarter, yet they looked at her with joy beaming from their faces.
Taylor broke the surface plain, delving her hand into the bucket. The water sent chills up her arms, and it wasn't known if the goosebumps came from the water or the shouts of jubilee behind her. She wanted to leave. All she desired was finding a place where none could find her. There she could ball up and let loose the emotions that were dwelling inside her.
A large hand was placed on her shoulder. It was Michael the man who moments before baptized her. Taylor flinched at the touch expecting the man's intention only to cause her more pain and suffering, but that was it. It was comforting. Somehow, this man was offering his support. He knew she was waging a war in her mind from the events that happened today. The laughter started bubbling up inside her bursting forth in wild hysterics, her lungs convulsed. Taylor struggled to breath as the pain tore through her body like a cattle prod staggering a young determined bull. The bruising was still there from Richards' assault. Somehow he was dead and she was alive. Her life truly was a comedian's story. She wiped away the tears that wouldn't stop gushing down her cheeks, but there was no end in sight. Her life was just too hilarious.