Covet Not (45 page)
Authors: Arden Aoide
Suffer Not
Formally called Sodomite
Lethe
. Æther. Chaos.
“There was no
place for reconsideration or revocation, except through revolution or through
the consent of the States.”
‒
Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase, Texas v.
White, 1869
NOVEMBER 1, 2031, AUSTIN, TEXAS
The UNANIMOUS DECLARATION by the
REPRESENTATIVES OF TEXAS, SOVEREIGN
In the course of history, when
the idolization of liberalism interferes with conservative values, we must take
a stand to protect our families. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that
we are meant to worship and fear the creator who has blessed us with this great
country. Citizenship is by oath and exclusive.
SIGNED,
T.B.
Pickens IV
PANHANDLE
LG
ABBOTT
BIG BEND
C.
G. Bush
HILL COUNTRY
J.
T. Agnesson
PRAIRIES AND LAKES
R.
T. Cruz
PINEY WOODS
P.L
Gramm
SOUTH TEXAS PLAINS
L.S.
Ross
GULF COAST
“Primum non nocerum.”
‒
Hippocrates
Ezra
Vasher.
Morphine.
Confusion.
Stark white.
Blinding.
Rough
starched cotton.
A scuffle of
shoes.
Creaking
wheels.
An anvil.
On me.
Under me.
In my head.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Confusion.
Whirs and
bleatings.
A symphony.
A serenade to
death.
Fermata.
B flat.
A breath.
Thank you,
God.
Staccato.
Staccato.
Staccato.
Morphine.
Black.
“Every man,
twenty and older, must sacrifice, burn, pray, repent, and repent again for the
Lord.”
‒
Exodus 30:14, (Texas Sovereign Devotional,
2115)
at all to do with piety, but
of Pastor Lazarus Cabot's hand pushing through my hair as he blessed me. He
seemed to linger there, and my head was always down in dutiful prayer, so I
couldn't count the seconds before he moved on to the next receiver of his hand.
I could only count how long he touched me.
One, two, three, four, five, six,
sev
–
The weekly
anticipation of it was constant and bittersweet. To feel how his thumb slipped
through, brushing the hair back and forth deliberately. I would carefully wash
it, and use my mother's fragrant softener to entice his fingers even more.
Sometimes I imagined he couldn't help it, but that thought was a little beyond
me. I couldn't figure out precisely why I was feeling such anticipation and
fondness, but I didn't dwell on why I wanted him to touch me so much. If I were
younger, I might think he was a vessel for God, and so his blessings were the
Lord's directly, so of course they would feel comforting and exciting all at
once.
I didn't know
enough about those things. I just wanted to please him with my devotion.
Devoutness, I mean. I had thought pleasing him was part of what I was meant to
do. It took me a little longer to realize how many definitions of pleasing
there were.
And how my
desire to please didn't transcend anywhere else. To anyone else. Still, I
didn't feel it was an issue. We weren't allowed to be around the girls, so
desiring them was an abstract concept anyway. There was talk on occasion when
we were left to our own devices. A boy might see his sister while undressing,
or have an older brother who spoke too freely. More often than not, we learned
the keen ache of confounding arousal by watching our peers, bodies angled
together, spill onto the grass in front of them.
Some of us
appreciated the sight quite a bit more than the others, but I didn't know that
at the time. My evolving admiration of Pastor Cabot made me question a lot of
what I thought I knew, which wasn't much. But I knew enough to see that not
everyone was similarly affected by his touch.
While I
didn't know what I wanted exactly from Pastor Cabot, I wanted to be in his
presence constantly. And on my knees. He would likely think he was some great
orator, but I wouldn't know. I'd be too busy watching him lick his lips after
every other minute. I should probably watch myself a little closer, so I don't
make a fool of myself, and embarrass the only pastor in our tiny village.
Desire had
been a foreign concept before. Irrelevant. But, I was beginning to feel the
inconvenience of it. It didn't hurt, but I wanted to make it go away. It
weighed on me.
We lived in
Hallowed Valley, Texas, which was deep in a vale between the hills and the
desert a little west of center. From the top of the highest peak, you could see
the hills full of green in the east, then dry windblown monoliths at your back.
I couldn't compare, but I found it beautiful, and I couldn't fathom that
anything could be more beautiful. And we like to protect that beauty.
We were
insulated here, self-sufficient with exceptions, and very suspicious of
strangers. There were a few inns for men who came through for the hunt, and our
hospitality was hesitant, and only extended to them. It was a kindness for
convenience, and we encouraged them to keep to themselves.
Betrothals
were arranged with neighboring villages strategically to keep lines from
intersecting, and to have allies for land agreements, labor on larger tasks for
the region, and the trading of goods. We were proud of our efficiency of true
supply and demand, of filling the needs of our village, rather than the lines blurring
between needs and wants. For consumers, it was essential to know the
difference. I've heard to be successful in the larger cities, one must
manipulate the buyer. In Hallowed Valley, it would be a breech of trust.
Wanting had
its place. To enjoy good wine. To listen to Pastor Cabot play his violin at
church. To prepare a chocolate cake after being gifted a rare tin of cocoa.
When wants turn to needs, life becomes frantic and unreliable. And people make
irredeemable mistakes. I was brought up to believe Hallowed Valley was strong
against the delusions of man. We weren't foolish enough to believe we were
immune, so we remained prudent in our day to day conversations and
transactions. We were trustworthy and dependable, but we knew that it was hard
earned. We knew the rest of the world didn't have the fortitude, and even Texas
had its struggles, but Hallowed Valley had purpose, a Divine one, and we never
wanted to stray from it. We believed in the power of prayer, and God gave us
consistent answers. He gave us plenty, but He made sure we knew how to survive
a drought.
In two years
time, I was meant to take a bride, and chances were, the first time I see her
will be when I lift her veil. I'll be nearly twenty. She will be sixteen. Her
name is Naomi, and we have been betrothed since before she was conceived. I
never listened to the specifics, but it included land. I did learn recently
that my very own yet-to-be conceived children had pending contracts as well.
When you owned a large piece of lucrative land, you had more options. I didn't
find it very fair, not for our hidden paradise, but without an opportunity to
meet, the only visible things one could bring to the table were money and land.
I was uncomfortable with it, but it was our way, and it had worked as intended
since the secession nearly two-hundred years ago.
I didn't
think of Naomi very much. Some of the boys couldn't wait, but I didn't feel any
sort of urgency. I had a mother and it felt a lot like that. I knew it was
unfair, and I knew it was likely more difficult for her to leave her parent's
home to take care of her own home, husband, and her potential children. For all
she knew, I could be an ogre who wanted twelve children. And I didn't pray
much, especially frivolities, but the thought of more than a handful of kids
made me want to be celibate.
My mother
said the girl was sweet and pretty, and the lack of substance was insulting to
me, but it was my privilege to know more than what anyone else got to see. It
was a sacred bond and that part appealed to me greatly.
I had heard
once that when Texas was still a part of the States, women were free to roam in
indecent clothing, work, drive, fornicate, and even live alone.
It must've
been a scary time. I couldn't imagine putting our women here in such danger.
Books in the
Lethe. Æther. Chaos.
Universe.
Sins of
Lethe:
Want
Not:
#1 A
Consummation, #2 Devoutly
Take
Not
#3
To
Be Wished, #4 Insolence
Have
Not
#5
What Dreams May Come, #6 To Be
All six
bundled as
Covet Not.
The Poison
Papers
will be published
weekly.
Practical
Psychopathy: A Primer
is
coming soon.
The
first book in the
Into the
Æther
story arc, #1
Entropy
will be out soon. You can get the first installment free if you email me at
[email protected]
and
type in
Entropy
for the title. I will use the email that you used to
send, but if you want it sent elsewhere, put it in the email.
Suffer
Not
,
a standalone that is also a prequel to
Out
of Chaos. Out of Chaos
will come out in 2017.
Other stories:
Erotic
Romances:
Dishabille
,
Morphoses
,
Force Majeure
bundled as
Tame
Urban
Fantasy:
Ancient
Hunger: A Modern Mythos
Lunacy
is coming soon.