fanatic in faith

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man in remorse over the death of his brother contemplates what true terrorism is after his own act of terrorism he inflicted on others.

Submitted: August 24, 2012

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Submitted: August 24, 2012

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Fanatic in Faith

Brother, your death has changed me. When your blood pooled about my hands and spilled onto the dead streets, when your body crumpled like my spirit the truth came to me. I became all that I hate, I had become fanatic in faith. And in the aftermath of your death the light of dawn felt like the hour of dusk.  While those we fought held the glorifying dawn. It bathed their already immaculate spoiled city in justifying light. Those killers in shades of grey will never know what true regret is. They will remain blinded to it as I once was. They will continue to condemn and kill based on belief.  I have learned what you were trying to say. I feel only regret, remorse and repulsion. I could live with myself better if you were here.

This room they have me in is leaden and rigid. The cuffs that hold me eat at my already torn bloody skin. In this room the color of grey cinderblock is mocking me. It attributes to my flawed logic and immovable mind.  I can look anywhere in the room except the double sided mirror. I cannot stand to look at myself. So instead, I can see through the small window into a neighboring cell. A senseless murderer, one who joined our cause, who killed just to kill, is sitting their smiling. His skin is tainted yellow from the man made light. There is no true light in this place and he basks in that truth he loves the idea of destroyed hope. He sits their proud and vile while I sit here condemning myself. In actions I am no different from him.

I hear the television outside the room it’s funny it feels like the rest of the world is miles away. So many news anchors on every channel reporting my actions my murdering of the filth in white robes. I remember feeling proud and rage ridden. At the time when we attacked their city their cries for help felt satifiying to my ears. When our riot filled their streets with fear it had felt justified to the pain they had cuased us. Watching our people fight for their beliefs watching our people die for their believes was something I had wanted. In the high of that moment war was righteous and pure. And when I slit the throat of their percious leader everything felt glorified. Our waiting and our planning and all our peoples hopes rested on this riot. When we burned their capitol and smashed their statues the symbol of our freedom became more than just a dream it became real. 

In the time it took for their riot control to come out we had successfully slaughtered all their officials and the filth in white robes. He deserved no mercy. He gave the heartless order to kill us for our beliefs. I still do not regret killing such a dangerous man. Yet all those officials the men and women we killed I cant help but wonder now after their deaths whose, mothers and fathers they were,  wives and husbands they were, sister’s or brothers they were. How much idealogy do you belive they truly followed of that dangerous man. You followed me against your wills, your idealogy, to please everyone to support everyone and for that you died.

At frist when you were shot I did not see it. I only heard your cry and then  I stood paralyzed as I watched helplessy the three extra bulltets pump into your body the last bullet destroying your mind. When I ran to you I was in schock I could see nothing eles. I cried as I frantically tried to stop your blood from flowing any futher. It took me a seconed to realize you were dead and when the realization hit all my glory faded. I was surrounded by death and destruction. I was surrounded by the wreakeage of a city and the wreakage of my sanity. When the athuorities tried to  grab me I hugged onto your body not ready to say goodbye, not ready to let your body be desecrated without respect in death ,not ready to lose the last of my family They pulled me away, the five of them. They beat me and cuffed me  and brought me here. They killed most of us save me the flawed leader, and the heartless meurder. I suppose our deaths are more important our deaths will futher solidify there victory and unity. We will be labled terriost we will die a public death and their mob will be statisfied.

Yes, war and terror are all encompassing. One life for another. Its senseless fear and rage propagated by the idea of live and let die. I see now; the act of killing destroys the being. Though, would I have felt this if you were alive?  Maybe I might have enjoyed all this if you had survived and not died in my hands. I might have felt proud and unified had you lived. My glorified killing would not have been ruined if I had shared it with you.You were all I had left little brother. They took everything else away. I am deeply sorry I called you a coward and looked to our people as just hot bodies ready to follow my trigger happy gun and manic minded knife. I thought I could save everyone, lead everyone.  Now, I know there should not be a leader for an individual’s freedom, freedom is choice not exploitation of the gut. Now I see I  had lead people  fanatic in my faith. I was just like the filth I white robes.

 Remember how we agreed that these days every corrupt house has “The Book” and a gun? The irony is you don’t need those things to be dangerous do you? You just have to have a narrow and extreme mind. You knew that didn’t you? Did it drive you mad that I only saw the half of it, That I was slowly slipping into beliefs that kill?  You were truly innocent. And as it goes, the truly innocent are always the sacrificial lambs. But the lambs’ death always creates conversion of even the most narrow of minds whether it makes those minds narrower or changes them I do not know.

 Your death has changed me though, and it has changed them, but it is change for the worst. Now they are further united in fear and rage, just as we were but hours ago. Now, it is their turn to feel threatened, to kill again. Peace is a tricky thing for us and them. In this war peace will always be unobtainable. In truth, peace is a veil, a visage between two peoples in the eye of a storm. But before that storm came you tried to stop it. Yet the nature of our kind always fights. One side is always right and might and the other is always weak and wrong. So, how do you stop violence brother? How do you stop pointless death?

You knew the answer, the discipline of the right choice. You tried to tell us but we would not listen. Now, I can only recall what you’ve said. Now, I understand your position. You were not a coward afraid to fight back; you sought true peace despite the destruction they caused us. You saw two groups, two extremes, so flawed in logic tearing each other apart. Neither party completely innocent, though in war no one ever sees it that way.

You called to me after their attack you trusted me as your brother saying: “Listen to me glorifying violence, justifying revenge, will bring you no closer to saving us. It will destroy us. Our humanity must not be lost in the blacks and whites of this war.”  And I stupidly and bitingly replied, “Their religion is dead to logic, reason, and humanity. In its place are the grays of killers who murder one another in the name of their gods ideals. Humanity is not lost in the blacks and whites of war it is lost in the grey desolate ideals of man.” It is complicated; our ideals are shaped outside, and inside, of us all the time only forging a frame of ideals in each person with each individual experience. It’s maddening to understand. Yet the black, grays and whites cannot exist without each other can they brother? It is those idealistic grays that create the blacks and whites, and likewise, the blacks and whites that create the idealistic gray those are the extreme beliefs that kill.

 Do you remember how I boldly told you my flawed beliefs?  I had no compassion for those who lack objectivity and reason; I showed no mercy to those who lack true empathy? Do you remember how you replied? You wisely pointed out to me all my contradictions you told me that I wanted empathy but I wanted to kill. You told me I wanted objectivity and reason but that my plans of actions were blinded by rage. Still, no one there heard you no one ever does when things become so extreme.

 

Foolishly, I tried to fight and lead on extremes built by muddled colors. Even if your logic was right my violent reactions felt better, helping me justify one people’s act of terrorism for another. I have always said religion is a casket in which free will and thought die. Now I know it is not just religion, politics or people it is emotions they feel that can be dangerous and malicious when fanatically extreme. Emotions fuel the means of religion, politics, and collectives of people. It takes great discipline to fully understand and control it. I understand now what you meant. That fanatic faith has the power to annihilate mankind.  Looking through the small window of this cell I can see it is time. The murderer in the next room is being moved and they will come for me next. Where I’m going I’m certain is to my death. It is funny, I wanted freedom but my freedom killed.


© Copyright 2017 gabrielle bejarano. All rights reserved.

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