There are those who hide in shadows; and there are those who walk above us. There are those who cower in fear; and there are those who have courage. There are those who make the laws; and there are those who break the laws. There are those who live; and there are those who die. I have known all of these people…for I am all of these people. And this is my story.

The memory drifts by, only in enough time for Jasmine to catch a snippet of it. 

She remembers everything about that house, the way it creaked in the night, the way the sounds would carry through the thin walls and sometimes she'd press her ear against the wallpaper and hear words she'd rather not have heard. Sometimes she'd have to bury her head in the pillow through the screaming, the shouting, the curses. Jasmine used to have a dream catcher hanging from her ceiling to ward off the demons, but sometimes it wouldn't work. In her head, she sees it swaying back and forth, heavy from the weight of memories. 

Jasmine remembers the gunshots, the screams, and hiding under her bed and not breathing, lest she never breathe again. Then there was that sickening silence, which seemed to last forever. The sirens came in slow motion, the police office was cold and unwelcoming. They said maybe just the air conditioning was set too low, but she remembers shivering, and asking for a blanket. She was ignored. 

Now she wishes she had known her parents for a bit longer, because even through all the shouting, there was a degree of her that could have loved them. Now she swears she forgot that night, since she was only three at the time, but there are some memories that she could never forget. It drifts away again, the nightmare fades, and the lights return again. They seem brighter than before.

     Running was all my mind could think of. Running, getting away, escaping. My legs carried me as far as they could go until I reached a stone wall that stretched as far as the eye could see in either directions. No way out; trapped. He would be here soon, the man who so desperately wanted revenge. I could feel him coming closer. 

     My heart thumped in my chest, my breathing was rapid, my head was pounding. Think. Stone wall, no way out, what do I do? Climbing wasn't really an option, the stones stretched up too far. He rounded the last corner, stopped in his tracks. His laugh could've shattered glass, so unforgiving, so cold. Closer and closer he came, but still no ideas tugged at my mind. Thoughts swirled inside my head, fogging up my mind. So this is where it ends? An old maze I wish I had never stumbled upon? 

     My back was against the wall, feeling its reality and what it meant. My hands slid over its cold stones, the ivy making its path along the wall; but then I felt it, a loose brick in the otherwise impenetrable stretch of wall. The man's feet carried himself closer to where I was standing, there wasn't much time left. He raised his left hand, revealing a gun. But before he had even risen the weapon, my hand had already pushed the stone, and I was falling, falling, falling...

This is an excerpt from Reverend Father Jean-Paul’s “His Executive Order VI: World Sanctuary,” spoken at Haymarket Plaza, Antitheim, capitol of Basque. Reverend Jean-Paul was a member of the Catholic church from 2642 A.C.E. until his death in 2713 A.C.E. He was 91 years old.

“The first of them came to Adam and Eve, tempting the first of His children with the Apple, the disguise of Lust, the very first Sin. The second targeted Cain and Abel, seducing the brothers to manslaughter. The third of them tried to sway Noah, but Noah was strong and refused to look away from His eyes. The first of their collective disappearance was caused by the Great Flood which washed their first generation off of the face of His world.

“We are all God’s children. Those who defy Him will be subject to the next Cleansing. We are Man. We must be strong like our own Noah, David, Virgin Mary and her child; our King demands of it. Our King, the son of our God, seeks the purity of this state. We are to follow Him and the Holy Spirit with each beck and call.

“There is a great Sin, I fear, that will loom over us once again. The Devil stirs in his dungeons under the Earth, commanding his followers to preach his word of evil. I see a grave danger washing upon our shores. Plaguing our crops. Diseasing our children. Raging war and suffering throughout His lands. They come for us. They come for our liberty.

“He has whispered to me in rest. He pleaded me to lead a movement, one of religious freedom and community. One of Grace. One unsullied by Pride or the fear known as delusion. He called upon me to rid this oppression once and for all. ‘You are My children,’ he said. I am His child. ‘You are the next to save this World from the chains that shackle you. The Oceans are pure in your name. Spread this word in Mine. Uplift your brothers and sisters. Forgive this evil.’

I call upon those who are Human and those who worship His name above anyone else. I call for sanctuary. I call for His name in prayer and wine. We must reform this world in His name. Those who do not see the same as Him are subject to conformity.”

His Executive Order VI: World Sanctuary, Reverend Father Jean-Paul, 3653 A.C.E. Library of His Word; Antitheim, Basque.

©SelfTitled, 2017

Objectively speaking, the choice should be simple. He has the chance to save millions of lives, and the only price he had to pay was his own freedom. It's a choice he's mulled over countless times sleepless nights, and yet...

An old high school lesson comes to mind, something about a runaway trolley and five unsuspecting workers caught directly in its path, and the only way to save them was to hit a switch. The catch was that by hitting said switch, you would, with certainty, doom the single person standing on the other track. At the time, he'd answered "Hit the switch" without a shadow of a doubt, five lives finding more value in his heart than one. But when faced with the question in the flesh, when he is suddenly the single person, he finds his confidence draining away, and it leaves him with a roiling stomach.

Morality is all very subjective, of course, but if you were faced with such a question, would you be able to make a guiltless decision?

Scorching ashes covered everything in sight, devouring any shred of hope left within the towns people. Screams echoed off every burning wall, cries came from children inside the fiery buildings begging for help from anyone, calling for their parents, who had long since jumped from the windows in hopes of saving themselves, or getting help from someone, anyone willing to help them and their spouses or children from burning to death.

The skies had been clear, children were laughing, the local church choir graced the town with their beautiful voices. Everyone was so happy, It was summer after all, you were considered crazy not to enjoy it.

Summer Holiday preparations were already underway at every shop and house in town. Children sang cheerful tunes in the park, raising money for local charities. But one person, one person walking among the shadows, had the ability to destroy everything with the snap of a finger.

One minute it was gumdrops and lollipops, the next, it was fire and corpses. There really wasn’t an inbetween. Though there was a girl, a girl whom everyone called Evangeline, not really having known where she’d come from. Her mother hardly ever appeared outside of the office, so Evangeline was always just wandering the streets on her own, memorizing the town in every way she could.

She’d never really spoken to anyone, she secluded herself from the population, it was actually quite sad. The only person she ever spoke to was a small boy named Matthew, they were the craziest duo anyone in Manchester had witnessed to that day. Evangeline had the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, and a smile that could light up a town. Her blonde hair fell to her waist, and was always curled to perfection, whether it was natural or not, no one ever knew though, and they’d never live to know either.

6

Matthew had the strangest eyes anyone’d ever seen, they were a bright golden color that seemed so surreal, that almost everyone deemed it fake. Except for Evangeline, she either never noticed it, or just pushed it aside as another flaw that didn’t matter in the slightest. His hair was a deep brown that oddly resembled Evangeline’s in a weird twisted sort of way.

These two were the most unlikely pair you’d ever imagine, but they hardly ever left each others side until it was time to return home. But rumors spread, and townsfolk gossiped. People claimed every now and then that they’d seen Matthew and Evangeline roaming the streets at two, sometimes three in the morning, as if they were waiting for something to happen. Although no one ever spoke to the pair, and they never spoke to anyone, everyone always seemed so interested in them.

These two couldn’t be much over eight years old at the most, and yet they’d already learned that they would have to fend for themselves, especially in Manchester. But they were always laughing, and smiling at petty jokes either of them made about anything. But one day, it just stopped. Mathew came outside with a black eye and purple bruises up and down his arms, while Evangeline ceased wearing anything that flowed above the knees. Her hair was never curled, and she only wore sleeves that reached past her wrists. People said that they met up at the town center, looked at each other for a long while, never exchanging a word, and then disappeared. No one saw them for months, not until the day the war broke out.

It wasn’t a war with bombs, or cannons, or even weapons. It was war between the heros and the villains of the world. Heroes like Captain Z, and Silver Fire battled against villains like Red Genocide, and Bloody Disaster. No one like Superman or Wonder Woman existed, they were all fictional, and they could never survive a collision quite like that one.

It was all so sudden, why destroy a town full of such great people so that you could deal with your own problems? No one ever really understood what happened that day. But there was a man supposedly, that came out of nowhere, it was as if he’d never existed, and let all hell break loose. It’s not like he’d done anything major, but what he did was beyond anyone's comprehension. He simply reached for the sky and called out to god. He wanted to be saved from the hellish world he was in. Everyone was dumbstruck, a woman went up to him and she touched

his shoulder, but the strangest thing happened. She died.

Hell broke after that, it was as if someone opened the gates and let every evil thing out of them. Armies of the world's most evil villains assembled on the left, and heroes from every corner stood right. They all waited there and watched each other. Then, one from each side stepped forward and just stood there. At least an hour passed before they nodded and everyone flew in different directions, destroying everything in sight. Villains set fire to the chapels, and heros struck the villains with all the power they could muster up. Beams of Blue and Pink, Yellow and Purple bounced off every pillar and pole that they came in contact with.

Towns folk were sent running, some were caught in flames, and many were trapped in burning buildings with their children. The sky had gone from Blue to red in a matter of seconds. It was quite like World War III.

This was the day that Evangeline and Matthew returned. And it was also the day that they should have died. They were both dressed so formally, and had grown unrealistically. Evangeline looked ready for her wedding day, with her blonde hair secured in an elegant bun, white rose petals scattered around her, and a white gown that looked like it had taken years to perfect fell to the pavement, covering her entire body. Matthew looked no different. His hair was slicked back to perfection, not a strand out of place, with a white suit and tie to finish it off. Her piercing blue eyes shone brighter than anything he’d ever seen before. She was so beautiful, it was as if she was sent from heaven above. His Golden eyes brightened more than usual, his bruises had diminished to nothing and his smile had ceased to exist. It had been etched into a permanent frown, as had hers.

Although smoke surrounded the pair, and screams recollected every which way, the two were so focused on one another that nothing else seemed to matter. Balls of empty matter flew around them, and people screamed out in absolute terror, But Matthew and Evangeline ignored it all, and stood as if they were communicating telepathically. Which in an odd sense, they were.

Years passed, and people died, but the outbreak between the heros and the villains became known as the “The Second battle of Britain,” Many people grouped together to form

clans, while other tried to sacrifice themselves to the gods that they so horribly wished would save them from this wretched agony. But no one ever did. Evangeline and Matthew were never seen again. Not until the day a necklace was recovered, and a mother died several years later, did the two ever meet again.

The more the remaining townsfolk thought about it, the less they could remember about the two children. It was almost as if they had never existed.