John Wilde escorted me across the
vast expanse of a manicured lawn towards a brick building twice as
long as it was wide. He held the door open for me and I entered
somewhat reluctantly. I expected more from the interior of a so
called 'cathedral'; it looked more like a school auditorium with rows
of gray metal chairs. Almost every seat was filled with a white robed
occupant staring blankly ahead; or at least they were, before the
door slammed announcing our arrival and every head turned to study
us. John and I walked quickly to the front and took two of the four
empty seats directly facing the podium. No one spoke. Their weird
silence made me question my decision to come here alone. I'd known
John thirty years ago when we were in elementary school; I hadn't
seen him since. But when I called, he was pleasant and accommodating.
I'd seen him on the news a few
times, always standing beside the Prophet; John was in deep. In spite
of his cordial attitude, I was shocked when he'd agreed to set up a
day of visitation and an interview with the reclusive leader of The
Light. The mainstream media had never been allowed inside the
gated compound. The one stipulation of my invitation, was that I
wasn't allowed to speak to anyone other than John or the Prophet
during my stay. And I had signed a statement that I had come to The
Light of my own free will. I wondered if that had been a wise
decision. These people were obviously insane.
The lights dimmed and
organ music played softly through the sound system. Heads bowed as a
red robed figure strode across the small stage before us. He stopped
at the podium, the lights came back up, and the music stopped. He
smiled, and everyone beamed. Even I felt the electric charge coursing
through the room.
He was an exquisite
creature with crystal blue eyes and a full mane of wavy dark hair;
the crowd was mesmerized. I caught my breathing which had quickened.
“Good morning my
children.” He spoke with an accent I couldn't quite place.
In unison they responded,
“Good morning Brother.”
I leaned in whispering to
John,“So, where is he from? Does he have a degree?”
“We don't question
Brother Malachi,” he snapped.
“I wasn't. I'm
questioning you.” I couldn't help but shake my head in disbelief.
This guy had them all brainwashed. I breathed deeply and
calmed my heart. I would not get taken in.
John cleared his throat and handed me a
colorful tri-fold pamphlet.
“This should answer any
questions you have. We find that after you've been integrated into
the community you won't find the outsiders questions to be relevant.
Look around, the Master has created all of this for us. It is Utopia
for his chosen. And we, in appreciation, have chosen him.” His
voice was soft, but the intonation was firm.
I pressed on. “So there is still
free will?”
His face screwed into a half smile.
“Oh yes, there is always that.
And you can change your mind about us at any time, you are always
free to leave. Just as Brother Malachi is free to ask
you to leave, should he deem your 'investigation'
to be in violation of the Moral Code.”
I studied his face. He was testing me.
The others watched me with their cold
vacant eyes. I was keenly aware of their steely stares pressing into
the back of my head. I wondered if all it would take was a wave of
the Prophet's hand to have them attack me.
“So what's next then? I get my
robes and trade in my heels for some Jesus sandals?”
My playful mocking tone was lost on his
stoic demeanor.
“First you have a private
session with Our lord. Oh, and don't call him that. You must address
him as Brother Malachi, or as Prophet LeFevre. He prefers the latter
from... non-initiates.”
I almost choked. Brother Malachi was no
less than their savior.
This was exactly what
I'd been waiting for; the reason for my visit. Several former members
had made accusations of sexual impropriety in The Light; never
specifically referencing Malachi, but the local papers had made it
pretty clear it had been one of the higher ups. I'd been reading
about the The Light for the past year. There had never been
any concrete evidence, and never any formal charges filed, which was
typical of cults like these.
I'd done a smattering of
freelance investigative reporting, so I figured, why not? If I could
get the right angle, it promised to be the expose of the decade.
“Well show me the
light.” I whispered back, chuckling softly at my pun, until John
shot me yet another icy glare. It was clear he was one of them.
The
organ music resumed in the background as Brother Malachi began his
spiel. I hoped his monologue wouldn't last long.
Electronics were forbidden
in the compound, so I'd brought a pen and notepad. I listened
intently, jotting down random quotes. Nothing I hadn't heard before,
but the delivery was hypnotic. I realized I was getting lost in his
words and began to consciously block them out.
When he
finished speaking, he was ushered off the stage by two burly men in
black robes.
John stood up and asked me to follow. We exited the
same way we had entered, and followed a stone path to a small white
cottage behind the cathedral. Brother Malachi was seated in a gold
velvet chair by a fireplace with no fire. It was cold and I shivered
as he glanced up at us. I stepped towards him and he arose and held
out his hands to me. I took them reluctantly and he guided me to an
identical chair opposite his.
“Let me look at you,” he spoke
softly as he took my face in his hands.
I recoiled slightly, but
said nothing.
After a few seconds he
dropped his hands from my face and stepped back. There seemed to be a
faint indigo light around him; or had I imagined it? My breath was
shallow and my heart raced; I felt dizzy.
“Please, sit.” He
motioned to the chair behind me. I didn't make it. I collapsed onto
the floor in front of him. His smirk was the last thing I saw.
When
I awoke, I was resting on a hospital bed in their infirmary; white
robed novices rushing around and speculating in hushed voices.
I
felt his presence before I saw him.
“Amber-Lyn. I have chosen
you.” He was speaking inside my mind.
I nodded yes without
thinking. I couldn't remember what my name was, but I was pretty
certain it wasn't Amber-Lyn.
“What... what have you done to me?
I... can't stay here. I want to leave.” I tried in vain to sit up
but I was strapped to the bed.
He glided closer and touched my
hand. This time I was certain; there was a bluish glow surrounding
him. I was physically paralyzed as an electric current pulsed through
my skin and up my arm. As it worked it's way through my body my mind
fought against him. But he was stronger than me; his aura flowed into
me like a drug, and my resistance fell away. I belonged here, to him.
I was one of them now, peaceful and happy. Happier than I
had ever been.
I had no doubts, no fear, no questions. I had been
shown The Light.
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