Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

handcuffs and throws them to her feet. He speaks only one word, and
that word is “Destiny.” There is a hole in her chest, a product of the despair
fashioned from her isolation. A hole that longs with an indescribable
hunger, desiring a taste so bitter and so sweet that she is dragged to
her feet by it. The pain which had been sublimated for so long suddenly
focused in one brilliant moment, as if all her experience, all the time
spent in solitude had suddenly crystallized, her hope, in opposition to the
despair, revealing itself through this man. He leads her to the top of a
mountain, motioning for her to sit and together they admire the view, feel
the wind in their hair, the granite under their feet, and the scent of the
ages.
“That is what can be. Feel the joy of just being free as one’s self, not
confined in the mold of any invisible master. Beware, most of all, your
own self-inflicted limitations—the jester is still lurking nearby, leering
like a carnival ride. He will tempt you with false happiness, deceive you
with empty promises, and cast you aside in an instant. There is also the
scholar, who means well, but will not let you live. He will treat the
symptom, and not the problem,” he says, an incredible peace in his voice
and posture.
Hope shines in the sky, giving her warmth. And the jester lurks a few
paces behind, waiting—
Ken was shaking. There appeared to be a purple phantom glow all
about his body, like a retinal afterimage on a sunny day. A trick of the
eyes, surely.
“That’s enough,” Alexi said, and fell back, apparently drained.
Ken reacted violently: thrashing about on the bed, mumbling, talking
listlessly. Occasionally, he would stop for a moment, and then a moment
later burst into hysterical belly laughter. “You live in a halfway house
between insanity and absolute, complete freedom,” he said, suddenly
very sober.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alexi said nonchalantly,
nibbling neurotically on his shirtsleeve. The exaggerated self-confidence
that he radiated a moment before was gone. He sat slightly hunched over,
almost squirrel-like. Smiling in Ken’s direction, he asked “How do you
feel?”
“Something is…different.” Ken seemed to struggle to find the right
words, finally resigned, and asked, “What did you do?”
“What I was told,” Alexi said, far too quiet for Ken to hear.
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