The Enforcer

He stands before the large bay window, looking down upon the streets below, not really needing to see the evil happening. The visuals, courtesy of all his sensory perceptions, attack his mind.

And yet, The Committee condones such sadistic behavior as this. “Let them do as they will. It will all be sorted out later,” they say. “Their feeble minds can not grasp the concepts of good or evil: not enough for them to advance to an elevated status at any rate.”

“Elevated, my ass!” he thinks. “All of us on The Committee were once like these weaklings. We found it difficult to reason, to discard depravity and debauchery for the less than obvious elements of good inherent in humans and the world surrounding them.”

Pacing back and forth, the raw energy of evil present in this city sickens him. Someone in his position should distance himself from what is present here. After all, it has taken him many lifetimes to achieve his elevated status. Yes, he has evolved beyond the rabble scratching around to make ends meet, to find a reason for existence, and perhaps…just perhaps, to find at least some happiness from the filth which is ever-present here.

But through it all, he remembers. How can he possibly forget the times when he was beaten down by those wanting to keep him, and many others, in a state of abject slavery? Maybe the absence of freedom wasn’t slavery as many envision it to be, but when one’s soul is torn from the physical embodiment of humanity, what else would it be? One becomes nothing more than a Zombie, a dancing, unthinking, undead persona manipulated by a necromancer concerned only for his own welfare. And, his own power.

He laughs. Now the power belongs to him, an advanced being capable of an existence beyond human understanding. Yes, to those like him, the ones who have reached the “most perfect” stage of development, a utopian society exists, one in which Heaven is a state of glory residing within the minds of those fortunate enough to have reached the pinnacle of all that is.

Truth be known? They are Gods. And yet, should Gods look the other way when the unfortunate ones wallow around in ineptitude and suffer at the hands of the evil ones?

Ah, the Gods might have lost any semblance of previous humanity when their ultimate tableau was achieved.

Selchor, on the other hand, still retains compassion within his soul. It pains him when the unfortunate ones suffer as he once did. There is no reason for this. Those who can help, should help.

He dresses for the evening, donning the clothing of the time, and grabbing his walking stick when he leaves the apartment. Once he reaches the streets, he blends in with everyone else around him.

His cane beats a staccato along the sidewalk as he walks towards the place of supreme evil manifestations. For too long, this street has been a sinister one, hiding secrets, exposing pain . . . pain shoved upon those much too young to experience it.

A large man, easily 300 pounds, bald, and wearing an expensive suit, embroidered shirt, and fancy wing-tips, comes out of the adjoining alleyway and motions for him to stop.

“I take it you’re here for the young girls,’ he says. “Name your age, and we can fulfill your fantasy and allow you to live life to the fullest, doing what so few are able to experience.”

Selchor smiles at the man. “Yes, my good man. I am here for the children. Your fame has spread farther than you can imagine.”

The pimp gives the stranger a funny look, wondering exactly what this man is talking about. “And exactly what are you looking for, might I ask?”

“I would like to have all the young ladies assembled before me so I can choose.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them. I will gladly pay you up front if you are concerned about my intent.”

The big guy salivates at the thought of his entire assemblage being paid for. “Of course. Whatever you wish, sir.”

He grabs a cell phone out of his pocket and makes a couple of quick calls. Within minutes, a dozen young women of differing ages are paraded before him.

Selchor laughs and says, “I’ll take them all.”

“All of them?” the pimp asks.

Handing him the money, Selchor says, “Yes, all of them.”

The girls are shoved towards him, and Selchor says, “I am setting you free. Go and never return. There is nothing left for you here, and you need not worry about anything. I’m giving you your freedom.”

They are reluctant to leave at first, but something about the calm exterior of their benefactor soothes them, and they scramble away.

The procurer is upset and attempts to shove the cane-bearing man out of the way so he can retrieve the girls, but Selchor holds him, and his henchmen, back. In no time at all the former slaves are gone.

“But . . . but this is not what you asked for,” the bald man says, anger shoved from every pore in his body. “I thought . . .”

“You think far too much, I must say,” Selchor says. “I never said what I wanted the girls for. You merely assumed. You and your henchmen are evil people and should have your eyes opened to the truth of who you really are.”

The fancy-dressed pimp laughs now. “I don’t believe a man carrying a cane will be able to do much damage to the six of us.”

“Do not be deceived by me or my cane. Your time of reckoning has come.”

They charge en-mass, but Selchor touches a button on the cane’s handle, and a knife blade, easily a foot long, comes out from the end. “Looky what I have here, me lads. Guess what? I know how to use it too.”

The fight is brutal: blood, guts, and chunks of flesh fly everywhere. One by one, Selchor deftly removes their hearts, impales them on the blade, and places them in the hands of their owners.

Selchor watches as the spirits rise from the fallen bodies and stare down at what is now nothing more than food for the rats. He laughs, a most unsettling one, and says, “It appears that the time has come for you to go to Heaven or Hell. Which one is it?”

Confusion runs through the souls. This was not expected. Heaven or Hell is a choice left to them? How can this be?

“Yes, you have this choice,” Selchor tells them. “Tell me: which path are you taking?”

Even before they have the chance to say that Heaven is the obvious choice, thoughts jump into their minds, talking to them of all the evil they have perpetrated in their lives. How many times were people, some very young, subjected to pain to supply them with pleasure and a fulfillment of power? Too many times. They grab their heads and cry out in pain, trying to exorcise the demons present within them.

It doesn’t work.

All of them are dragged away to Hell. But…but there is not “one” Hell. For them, there are six Hells, and no two are the same. Selchor smiles as he watches their twisting, convoluted efforts to escape the grasp of the demons pulling them into the darkness.

Silence. The sweet sound of nothing takes over. The pimp and his crew are gone, taken into Hell on the wings of their own guilt. Justice has been served.

Selchor surveys the scene and his former humanity becomes more dominant. He loses none of the knowledge he has gained over time. If anything, he is more advanced than the others on The Committee. Knowledge, power, and humanity all belong to him.

Heaven and Hell are abstracts and reside within the minds and souls of those going to one or the other. If a person believes they have done good during their past life, they will advance to the next level of humanity, or they can happily exist in Heaven as they are. But those who are tormented by the guilt of the past evils they have committed will send themselves to Hell.

How sweet is this? Heaven and Hell reside within one’s self.

Selchor knows now he can not return to the lofty enclave of others of his kind. It is wrong to look the other way.

The world needs an enforcer. Selchor is perfect for the job . . .

~ Blaze McRob

© Copyright 2012 Blaze McRob. All Rights Reserved.

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About blazemcrob

Horror writer Blaze McRob Blaze McRob, writer of over seventy legacy published horror novels. I was a ghostwriter long before anyone had an idea we were lurking about. Through my adventures in the craft, I-or my author alter egos-have won virtually every award to be won. But awards mean little, don't they? It is the reader we wish to enthrall, and our souls to purge. So now it is time for Blaze to write as Blaze, and time for previous recipients of my tales to write more of their own material. In addition to my dark novels, I write horror shorts, flash fiction, and poetry. Ah, the sweet rhymes of iambic pentameter intermixed with glorious free-style. I am single and have eight children, my youngest only three years old. They are my life and the reason I fight the demons and the pain. blazemcrob.com

22 responses to “The Enforcer”

  1. Joseph Pinto says :

    Blaze, I love the way your offering “The Enforcer’ for the Damned this week stands brilliantly on its own…and yet can clearly be read as a small part to a much larger world.

    Very, very interesting, this dark man Selchor. Is he judge, jury and executioner? Or does he allow the human psyche to unwittingly play that role all on its own? I’m intrigued by who…or what…this Committee could be, and if all share the same talent/power as seeing the freshly departed souls of their victims….

    Overall, I loved the feel & tone of your story. Well done, my blazing friend!!

    Like

  2. Daemonwulf says :

    Dear Blaze, I very much enjoyed this story and its otherwordly, post-someplace setting wherein the underlying concept that two paths (*no-spoilers grin*) reside within. I suppose that on a very simplistic level one could consider this merely another tale about the struggle between good and evil, but it reads to me much more like a glimpse into a complex world whose details slowly pour from your mind. I don’t know if any of this was your intention, but I very much like to imagine Selchor as an anti-hero, with a vast array of his own internal issues, living in some depraved future city, much like the setting of one of my favorite graphic/comic characters – Spawn. Your narrative transports me to Selchor’s world and makes me yearn for more information on the machinations of The Committee and the role that Selchor could play in the dark universe you’ve created in a very short 1400 words. Compelling and thought-provoking work, oh Fiery One.

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      I’m glad you feel that way, Daemonwulf. I love Spawn as well. There is much more to happen with this little treatise. I will enjoy writing it immensely. What could be better than combining horror and sci-fi? Heh, heh.

      Blaze

      Like

  3. Jack Wallen says :

    Love it! This is a great start for something really special. I hope this is being developed into a full book!

    Like

  4. Nina D'Arcangela says :

    I love the dark avenger line this story takes, Blaze! It almost seems simplistic at first as you read each sentence, but by the time you’ve reached the end, you realize that all the staccato lines make for a very evolved and much deeper story than it seems on the surface. I really did love this one – a story of kindness and mercy with a dark ending. I’ll gladly admit that I read it twice out of sheer enjoyment. And if I had any ability at all to draw a straight line, this one would become a graphic novel!

    Great story, Blaze! I can see Selchor in my mind’s eye, and I very much like what I see. ;}

    Like

  5. Tyr Kieran says :

    Excellent as always, brother Blaze! I loved the gritty darkness that seeps from the world Selchor wishes to cleanse! Your prose took me there and had me relishing in the splendor of the supernatural vigilantism. I also loved the concept of heaven and hell existing within the human mind and we make our own choice… brilliant! So many cool things wrapped into one tale. I agree with the rest of the Damned in that this needs to be fleshed out more either in a novel, graphic novel or both!

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      I love it when you call me brother, Tyr. Yes indeed: gritty is the place where Selchor roams. More fleshing out will occur. Ah, but what substance will the flesh become?

      Blaze

      Like

  6. Adriana Noir says :

    Oh Blaze, my dear…this is excellent. It is by far my most favorite of all your Damned offerings as of yet. I lost myself in this world you created and held my breath as Selchor delivered those vile men onto their fate. What a brilliant twist, and so wonderfully crafted.
    I must chime in with the others here and plead for more–be it novel or graphic offerings of sorts. Either way, I would be most pleased and happy to buy.
    Thank you so much for sharing and creating. 🙂

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      Thank you very much, Adriana. I enjoyed writing this tale very much. Challenging the concepts of conventional thinking is very satisfying to me. “What if” is always running through my mind. There is more to come, sweet lady!

      Blaze

      Like

  7. zkullis says :

    Heaven and Hell reside in one’s self. Great stuff Blaze.

    Like

  8. Thomas Brown says :

    Very conceptual! It is clear you have given much thought to the story and the ideas you are exploring, Blaze. Selchor seems quite the interesting character. As others have said, there appears much room for further development. Looking forward to reading more!

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      Thank you, Thomas. Selchor came to my mind as a character who is unwilling to let things pass. Sometimes . . . sometimes, we need a strong hand. The innocent need to be protected.

      Blaze

      Like

  9. moondustwriter says :

    Hmm what a world you have penned and I love your twist of Heaven and Hell and good and evil. There is a sequel – right???

    Like

  10. Hunter Shea says :

    This is like the most delicioous appetizer on the menu. I’ll be waiting for the full course!

    Like

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