Previous Challenge Entry
Topic: Breaking the Rules (08/16/04)
TITLE: Whose Rules By Larry Elliott 08/22/04 |
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Not sure who or what he was running from, and even less certain where he might end up, he decided to sit tight for a while. Why had this happened? Why? Why him? What had in fact happened? He rubbed hard at his sweaty temples. He tried to think. He couldn’t think.
Words of the old man who had tried to console him this morning at the crowded bus station would not fade. “You broke the rules, sonny. We all did. Those of us that are still here, anyhow. This is our penalty for breakin’ the rules.”
Breaking the rules? What rules? Whose rules? The governments rules? Some unwritten rules of the universe? What, if anything, did rules have to do with all that had happened to the world the last few days? Sitting on the hard concrete floor he became aware of the wallet in his back pocket. Opening it he removed the photo of his wife and daughters. A torrent began again, but not from the sinister sky. This time it came from the pit of his soul. When he could cry no more he carefully returned the photo, his only connection to sanity, and rose carefully on trembling legs. Leaning, shoulder against the grubby brick wall, he repeated the promise he made to himself a hundred times. He would find them. No matter what it took, he would find his family. He would hold them to his heaving chest and tell them how much he loved them. He would never stop telling them. Moving slowly through the gloom, seeking a softer place to rest, he stumbled over a pile of junk. Under some old newspaper he could make out the edge of a book. He picked it up and wiped the cover with his sleeve. A Bible. Oh great. The book his wife tried numerous times to get him to read. If he believed rumors on the street, this book is the real cause for all the chaos. He found a piece of badly soiled carpet padding and made a pallet next to the window he climbed through earlier. A break in the clouds allowed a small shaft of light to escape. It seemed to aim solely in his direction.
A busy professional, he seldom had time to read. When he did, he would usually start with the last chapter, insisting this would reveal all he needed to know about the book. He knew no reason to do differently now.
With nothing better to do at the moment he thumbed the tattered pages and began, ‘The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him…’
Hours later his screams of agony and cries for mercy emptied the alley of its occupants. He now knew which rules and whose rules had been broken. And he knew he would see his family again, soon.