The Holy War

If you looked at her, you'd call her tiny; a wisp of a woman. She was trim and neat, soft spoken and pleasant. She worked hard and did what was right. By all accounts she would be considered successful. She loved to laugh at work and tried hard to help people. She always had a kind word and time to listen. She was liked by many if not all who crossed her path. Hell, even I liked her.

Yet there was something about her. I can smell it a mile away. Desperation. This woman was covered in it like thick spiritual tar. And it came from one source: the man she'd married. He had introduced her to the worst of herself; been sure to point out the flaws and the mistakes (usually in front of his friends, business partners and drinking pals). He'd notice the weight gain or the stress acne. He'd bark that she purchased too many clothes and not enough beer. How she had been selfish and arrogant by understanding her bank statements, watching her balances and questioning him about his use of her credit cards. He worked tirelessly to make her understand that not everyone could have it as easily as she did. She was fed life on a silver spoon as he so nobly pointed out. He, on the other hand, had always been on the cusp. What SHOULD have been his was usually taken ~ not because it was hard to achieve and he gave up to blame someone with more drive or initiative. No, there were saboteurs. People who took. People who stole and THOSE people got ahead of him so he had to resort to their methods; take from others; a " When in Rome..." kind of thing. So he did indeed take. He took from her; her money, her happiness, her love, her self confidence and esteem. Then when he finally struck her, it came as no shock. He had conditioned her to be ready for it. She knew she had earned it by having it easy. He felt good about that. She needed to comprehend that she wasn't such hot shit and that he deserved more ~ more than her so that is why he cheated. More than her money, and that is why he stole from her and anyone else who gave him a foolish benefit of the doubt. More than her looks which was an instant fury for him causing repeated blows. But sometimes, it was just sport. He needed an outlet for those inklings of short comings, moments of self doubt but had lost his membership to the gym after he failed to pay for some drugs he got from the manager. It wasn't too bad since he sold them to get the bookies off his ass. He considered himself clever.

How do I know this? I have seen it all. You people: You pray to God and ask forgiveness. You pray to God to save your soul and give you strength. But when you have had enough, you come to me. You seek me out. And, I unlike your God, always come, always answer and always achieve the common goal. So when she realized that God wasn't coming to save her, she asked for me.
I came to her gently at first; giving her an idea so preposterous that it made her laugh in spite of her tears. I soothed her and comforted her, even let her push me aside when she finally thought about what she found so fucking funny. It didn't hurt my feelings because I knew she would come back especially since I had made her feel good about something. His end. I gave it humor. She reached into her mind for me again after he dislocated her elbow during one of her countless rapes. She couldn't believe she smiled ever so softly when I showed her a picture of what we could do together. This time it was a little more serious, holding more merit. I loved that her heart raced at the vision of him dying by her hand. It was a combination of shock and pleasure. That always gets you guys and I thank "Fifty shades of Grey" at some level. She covered her mouth and made her chuckle a short cough to hide it from the nurse who wasn't paying attention. I nudged her a little bit this time though. I let her see herself being just the tiniest bit involved. This is the most important step. If they cry and turn from me, I walk. I don't ever bother them again. But if they respond with hope or desire then I know I have myself a warrior. She was a warrior and that little skipped heartbeat spoke volumes.

We began our affair quickly and with such heat that she wore me out. Spiritually of course. I never EVER touch a warrior. Not until it's over. She beckoned my visions and thoughts hungrily and devoured them with such passion that it almost brought me to tears. One because she was so ready and capable to do this and two, she didn't belong with me. She should never have been mine. But, since she was, I enjoyed every moment.

The planning. Oh we began to watch him and study his lying, cheating habits. We followed him and then we followed his loser cohorts. I never get tired of seeing how willing people are to hurt each other. This makes my job so much easier. She was smart too. She needed so little from me. A few simple suggestions in the form of dreams or whispers in the wind combined with a couple of nervous butterflies and she was off. She devised a plan that made me so proud of her. By all counts, I was getting so much more than just their souls.  She began to gather everything she needed. It wasn't much; time, patience and a good camera. She made herself available and visible to the loan shark. She met him at school and was herself; pleasant, kind and thoughtful. He was instantly drawn to her. He had a strong sense of family since his parents were gone and he took care of his little sister. She laughed easily with him and lured him in. She was also getting some fabulous National Geographic worthy photos that would be very valuable to her. As my soldier had discovered, her honey muffin had a thing for young school girls and had set his sights on this ripe, tender, under-aged fruit also known as the bookie's sister whom he'd seen one day during a transaction. Not one to miss an opportunity to spread his magnificent manhood around, he was also screwing the dealer's best hooker...for free or dope as the scamming goes. It served our purpose since the school girl thing took time and effort. He had to impress her, get booze for her, get her all worked up and then not push too hard or he'd scare her. But then he'd be so worked up he'd need an outlet so he'd go get the whore, the dope and go home to beat his wife.He belonged here in Hell with me.

We got some great shots; award winning doozies. I personally loved the one in the park near the school (told you she was a youngin), and then there was the one with the.. oh wait~ you'll have to see it in my private library. Membership has its privileges. So she had to tip the dominoes she so patiently stacked up. She looked beautiful that night. Truly. She had been working the bookie since his temper was hotter than the pimp dope dealer. She knew that everyone would go down if she lit THAT fuse. See? I TOLD you she was great. She met him not so innocently at the place where her husband liked to take his youngest girls. Her thug sat quietly as she held his hand and tearfully told him she wanted to show him something; awful. She slid the envelope across and excused herself. The timing was impeccable and I never thought I could know love until that moment her husband came in and saw his date's brother; holding the photos. My little warrior had sneaked out the back much too distraught to say another word. Warrior indeed. The pedophile's face was priceless. The fury was palpable and smelled delicious. I sat right up front as a beating so savage took place that even I had to cover my eyes (but I peeked through my claws and giggled) So for the first time, the filthy romeo ended up in the ER with everything broken, smashed, bruised and bloody. He was brain dead and wasn't coming back leaving my beloved mercenary to pull the plug and no one thought anything of it. She was free. 

The only thing I didn't see coming was the stupid whore from the pimp daddy dealer who "loved" that piece of shit. The bitch recognized his wife from photos during the brief time in the news this story held. She also had moments of lucidity where she understood my warrior to have money: money that her lover had said was his and expo facto... hers. She blind sided us. She told her big boy who had the money and that was it: a robbery, an execution and my warrior was gone. 

She stood before Us, this saint and beautiful sinner at the altar (maybe you'll find this out and maybe you won't. Keep praying to your God and we'll see) where she was forced to confess her sins and everything became clear. She was mad at me for giving her the thoughts. She was ashamed that she had been so weak to follow them, want them to be true and damned herself for the role she played. She begged forgiveness. 

And I granted it. I said I didn't want her. I spoke to Your Savior and showed him the whole story. (We have some wicked technology these days) I went to bat for her and God said nothing. I gave up my best and favorite warrior so she could have wings. She looked over her shoulder, through tears of joy as she ascended and nodded to me. I felt a pang as she left. Knowing what it was, I angrily pushed it off, soothing myself with the excitement of punishment I would inflict on her husband who had yet to meet me.  

Yes. I am always here for you. And the Holy War will go on.  

Amen

Hello and welcome
Sorry for the issues but maybe this will help.  This isn't the piece I intended to write but here it is and I have to say I love it.  Saints and sinners ~ the good in evil... I love to ponder these things.  Thank you visiting me and I hope we get to do this again soon.