Invasion of DeadLife Nightmare, Part 1

Author’s Note: This is the first in a subseries of these vignettes in the War and Peace Saga. Each vignette in the series should probably be PG-13 or R based on adult content and themes so horrific no human should consider them.

The parts may be longer than you’re used to in this series. It is almost purely fiction, based on anecdotal stories of the date rape drugs, LSD, and other designer drugs in the past as well as a parent’s worst fear for any child under them.

I don’t know how many total vignettes will be in this series. I want to put the series out for free to ensure we are talking positively as a culture about these issues. If for some reason I can’t finish, do the work in the real world.

It doesn’t matter if you’re straight or gay; Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, or atheist; male or female; abuse of sexuality hurts us all, not only physically, emotionally, and spiritually, but fiscally down the road as survivors deal with long-term physical effects.

Dedicated to all sexual assault, rape, and molestation survivors

**********

The blue-eyed warrior clan matriarch had great tranquility as she cleaned her living quarters. Her season of physical War God service ended with her still alive. However, the spiritual work in the unseen realms continued because so few knew how to teach the next generation.

She adjusted the picture of her two blue-eyed daughters.

Tall and angular, the younger was developing her adult musculature. She was “touched.” She tracked people, ideas, and things better than scholars and politicians. She just couldn’t connect to emotions, feelings, and dress and speech traditions. Sometimes, the clan fervently wished she were more plain to facilitate hiding her from the politicians.

Short and stocky, the older was also “touched.” She never mastered reading scrolls or tracking caravan goods. However, she always knew who was hurting and how to love and encourage them.

Suddenly, a grand commotion bustled through the door. The older shouted breathlessly, “Mom-mom. We need help. Our green-eyed Temple of Peace acolyte… something’s wrong. She was along the path to our house, curled like a snowcat. She couldn’t speak. Her clothes were all wrong like when my sister dresses. I poked her, she woke up, but she couldn’t speak. We called her name, she didn’t answer.”

“Where is she?”

The younger hobbled in, practically dragging her green-eyed friend. The warrior clan matriarch felt sick along her War God connection, like she used to get in bait raids that would go horribly wrong.

The younger pleaded, “Mom-mom, where should I put her?” Her blue eyes, wide with fear and confusion, welled with tears.

“Put her on my bed. You older one, go get a blanket and cover her. Also dampen a cloth. This is really important… wipe only her face. Watch her. Don’t touch her yet. You younger one, get the outlander blue-eyed frame-healer. He is older, so be loud. Then sprint to the square and get the brown-eyed spirit-healer.”

The younger sprinted out the door, and the older started to follow the directions. The warrior clan matriarch slipped into a private interior chamber. She began a little known War God ritual.

Silently, kneeling with raised hands, she waited for the War God to look at her. She opened her mouth, singing a language she knew yet could not interpret. On some level, she begged for immediate audience.

Sensing peace when he saw, she sat in a listening position used with matriarchs. She again spoke that language. She would never completely comprehend what was happening but she sensed it was like a major strategy session with top generals. That frightened her… she was never a commander.

When she felt release that the session was over, she knelt again, bowing low to express gratitude for the War God’s time. She sighed, knowing to wait in the calm before the storm, and pushed up to stand watch over the green-eyed acolyte.

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