Jacob Churchland exuberantly walked down Lynch Street with the vehement declarations of the Lord skirling through the air. An old street preacher stood on her soapbox, facing a small crowd of intrigued acolytes, with her face strained in Christian passion and fury as she spoke of today's corrupted youth, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the drugs, the crime, and what have you. A select few individuals shook their heads and walked on in what seemed to be disapproval.
On the contrary, Jacob had joined the lunatic gathering, nodding along with the others, listening, intoxicated by the fierce protests and convictions against sin. He looked on with a young hunger for faith and the word of God.
Soon it was over and the crowd began to disperse, the old woman handing out pamphlets to those who lingered. She made eye contact with him and said, "Young man, do you believe in the word of God?"
He smiled. "Why, yes, I do. He has worked many miracles in my life. I can't thank him quite enough for it."
Even the lunatic woman could see that there was something nervous and off about the young man. She was unnerved not only by his tone and smile, but also by the way his fingers didn't seem to stop fidgeting with each other. She didn't have much time to think about it, however, for she handed him a cheap blue pamphlet and walked on. It had a picture of a road made of flagstones leading up towards a gate, beyond which was a bright light. The title was: WILL YOU GO TO HEAVEN?
Jacob pocketed it and moved on. The streets were loud with the blaring music of clubs and bars, which were unsavory to him. He was pleased, though, when he passed a church and heard the quiet yet angelic choir of children.
It was bright and cloudless outside, with a light breeze making the leaves on the sidewalk fly up in brief excitement. A beautiful day, to be sure. It was a shame there weren't many walking about in this part of town, enjoying the summer love.
He went into an obscure cafe where he ordered a coffee and sat down to read the holy book. He had almost completely disconnected himself from the outside world when he heard the jingle of wind chimes as the door swung open.
A particularly bubbly and young woman had entered, ordering something at the counter which came in a bag. Something about her demeanor was nagging him; perhaps he should keep caution around her. When she left, though wary, he went to follow her.
He kept a distance of twenty or so feet, dropping behind by five feet whenever he suspected she would hear him. Booming music cramped the air. Still he did not understand what was it about the woman which had alarmed him. She seemed like a normal person. It didn't help his nerves when he realized there was no one around to bear witness.
Just where was she going, anyhow? She seemed young and pretty enough to be a college student or perhaps an office worker. Her route seemed to be going at complete random, as if she were purposefully attempting to lose him. That didn't make any sense, though. Who would mug someone in broad daylight? The more he pondered, the more questions he found than answers.
Now look at her--she seemed to be picking up speed, no? Not quite running, but not quite strolling, either.
Then, at that moment, something clicked in his psyche, as if God himself had presented him with a revelation. Everything slowed to a snails pace--the woman, himself, the summer breeze, the blaring, loud music...
From the heavens, a command: 'Kill her.'
But why? Why did he want--no, NEED to kill this young woman? Why was he reaching for something long and thin in his pockets, something he couldn't quite remember putting there?
Soon, though, he understood, with a keen sense of the mind, that the woman before him, moving in slow motion, was a whore and sinner. Why else would she flaunt her body like so? Why else would she tempt him? Why...
And, even though this was all very untrue, all so unbelievably false, he believed his own strange psychotic delusion with absolute faith.
Again, the order. Again, the command. 'Kill her. Kill her! Do unto her the work of the LORD! Purge this vile, rotting world of its sickliness... Don't think... See for yourself how easy it is... No one will hear her--Hurry! Before it is too late...'
She had not screamed yet, in the slowed movement of the world he was occupying. Soon, this strange high would wear off, and he would have to act quick.
He sprinted forward, almost unnaturally so, taking out the wire from his pocket. She didn't even have time to turn around as he pulled her into the alley, causing her to drop her bag.
He had pulled her into the alley harshly; she had hit her head on the sharp corner of a brick building, stunning her and leaving her dazed. Swiftly, with uncanny expertise, he worked the wire around her neck and jerked his hands back. He vaguely remembered doing this before, and this wouldn't be the last time he did it, either.
She was clearly not a fighter. There was little resistance as he strangled her slowly and hideously to death in the dark, squalid alley of a street blaring with unholy music where no one passed by; surely, Jacob thought, that was a miracle of the one and true God.
The woman, feeling her breath slowly dwindling away, gave her last spasm and went limp. The voices from heaven were gone, and Jacobs vigor had evaporated. His work was done.
Judgement had been passed.
He left her in that alley, exuberantly walking through the streets as if nothing had happened. And nothing would happen; God would make sure his disciples were never unjustly imprisoned.
He went past the same church on his way back home, and realized that it was so, so blessed to be doing the Lords work.
