Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Militem Dominum · **10-27-2013, 07:24 PM**

Now, who are you?

Click.

No words, just static. It crackles, intently intensifying inbetween blasts of implanted high pitched wails. The screen itself remains dormant at a neverending, not even doing so much as to flinch, to stutter, to do something, anything at all to break the tension. Then, it can be heard. Quietly at first, of course. Volume rising with each passing wail. beepBeepBEepBEEpBEEP.

It wails on and on, screeching and scratching, carving the sound into your eardrums. For what feels like an eternity, it continues, until...

Finally. It has ended.

Just then; a voice can be heard faintly, under the still prevalent scattering of static.

Greetings, profligates.

The static ends, cutting itself off abruptly. Fading to black momentarily, the screen comes back to life, displaying a wooden podium, with a man standing behind it. As could've been seen from his brief appearances in the world around him, the XWF, the man bears a striking resemblance to the person known currently as Militem Dominum.

Now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine a world of limitless possibilities. Where you, can be anything you wanted to be, and that something is able to transform at a whim. Each desire; each impulsive, desperate desire falling apart and remolding itself as something new, just in a vain attempt to please you.

Can you see it?

What if I were to tell you, that's exactly what our Earth can be. A planet, a world of limitless possibilities. Whatever we make it, the state we leave it in, it all makes a difference. No no, this isn't a self improvement seminar. You see, that very same concept; "The world is what you make it to be," is a lot more literal than that.

The world could be great, and instead what you all do to it, choking its environment, building industrial eyesores to make your existence easier (here's something new: life isn't supposed to be easy,) killing the other species off to take their land...

Those being only a few among millions of grievous sins to this planet.

The Lord is not pleased. He has sent me to deal with this pressing matter, and I, I will not fail him.

Open your eyes. See what this world is. Observe what it has become, and it's all your fault. You and your fathers and their fathers, the Industrial Revolution and its byproducts are slowly killing this planet.

Killing you, is what it's doing.

Now, why is your jaw dropped? Feels strange when it hits closer to home, huh?

Yes. I know, this is hard to come to terms with, but your actions are killing you. It isn't anyone else's fault. It's yours. As a collective species, the human race has failed.

Moving past your sins, look at the human race as a whole. Oh, you can't? Maybe, it's because of how divided you all are.

You've let skin color (notice, not race. You are all human. You are all pathetic,) religion (you're all wrong on that, too,) politics, etcetera all divide you. Like sheep, you line up in segregated lines for the slaughter, throwing body after body for outdated ideas, for frivolous festivities of war while letting the ones who tell you what to do sit back and enjoy themselves. They're the smart ones, the wicked ones. For they don't believe in the lies they tell you, they just know you will.

So, XWF. Where does that leave you?

I know that after Madness, you will see my power, the Lord's power very clear. And after that, there will be only two options for you to choose. A simple decision, really.

You follow the truth.

Or...

You bow before the Lord, profligates.

And with that, I bring my message to an end.

Slowly, the screen fades to black. For a second at most, the room sits black, the only light coming from the now lifeless television. Then, it kicks back to life, and the familiar, deafeningly dull static slips back into control.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode A Sermon, Spoken in Screamed Whispers and Accented With Precise Generalities, For You
Author	Message