Sael Jasmua
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The Prologue of Magnum Opus, a story of an SS who believes himself to be the Vindex and aims to free his people from the two-thousand year lie.
If you have a better name, do reply - Magnum Opus is only a stand-in until I come up with something that represents it better, maybe even The Two-Thousand Year Lie.
If you like it, please tell me, and if you don't, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.
I'd also like to state that Magnum Opus is under copyright - do not reproduce or distribute it without my permission. Thank you!
Prologue
The raven swooped low in the darkening evening sky. The sun was going down, and its dying rays cast a golden orange light over the desert surroundings. Soon there would be darkness across the land, until the night passed and the sun began its journey, climbing towards the sky once again.
The sun’s last failing glimmers of light touched upon a building in the centre of the desert. It was a grim sight, the old building that had stood here in this very spot for hundreds of years. Since the first nomads had come to this land, there had been cells here to hold their prisoners of war. It was the ideal prison, isolated from human life by miles of harsh, dry desert.
The raven let out a cry as it flew, catching the wind on its wings, floating in mid-air. It turned, using an updraft to rise steadily.
The raven flew towards the building, still rising. As it reached the top, it dropped something that it had held clutched in its talons. It glided away towards the South, seeking a better place.
The object spun as it fell. The light crisp folded paper was tied to a small but heavy metal ball, to ensure that it fell correctly. It spun, falling straight down. There was not even a breath of wind to alter its course. As was intended, it dropped down, down towards the prison.
There was a clunk as the metal ball struck the metal ceiling, a visible dent marring the smooth barrier between incarceration and freedom. It rolled along the metal towards a grille in the ceiling, which had been put in place to provide the prisoner inside with fresh air; the only amenity this hellish prison deep inside Israel provided. As a prisoner of war, hardly anyone even knew he was here. While it let in air, it also gave him tantalising glances of the world outside, the world that had moved on without him.
There was movement inside the cell. He darted from a dark corner to the faint evening light let in by the grille. Reaching up with long fingers, he pulled the folded paper through the grille, tearing it from the heavy metal ball.
Squatting in the centre of the small dark cell where the weak light shone best, he unfolded the paper and began to read.
Dear Felix,
We have been waiting for a long time. You know better than many just how long the years take to turn, but know this: your waiting has not been in vain, as you told me all those many years ago. The age of Pisces is over; the age of Aquarius has begun.
Felix, it is time to return to us.
Come with all speed.
J.
He tore the note into pieces. Good. They still remembered him. Even after ten years, rotting away in a cell, they had not forgotten their friend.
The time had come, he could not wait a minute longer. Finally, he was breaking out.
He smashed his fists against the bars, making them rattle; an eerie sound in the almost silent desert.
“Help!” He screamed. “It’s got me, it’s going to - ahh!”
The clatter of urgent feet came from around the corner. A guard, one of the few paid highly to keep this forsaken place secure, came running. If anything happened to their prisoner, they would take the blame. Only one guard stayed on the alert every shift; only one prisoner languished here.
“What is it? I don’t see anything.” He barked at Felix.
“Come closer, sir.” He whimpered.
As the guard put his face to the bars, Felix sprung into action. Reaching through, he pushed three fingers into his neck, paralysing him. As expected, the cell’s keys lay in a bunch in his pocket. It was the work of a moment to let himself out.
Hopefully, he would remember the prison’s layout; it had been imprinted on his mind, he attempted to take it all in when he was first brought here. He was in luck. Despite the span of a decade since he had last been out of the cell, not much had changed. As he recalled, the cell was considered difficult enough to escape from; the guard who was taking the current shift had the only set of keys, and while other guards might be around, they would be in no position for a fight, even with the likely odds of three on one. They were merely wardens; he, however, had something to fight for.
As expected, when he found them, they were lazing around; playing cards and surfing the net. None were ready for him, a silent figure that struck one by one from the shadows. When he was finished, his was the only pulse that beat in the room. Job done.
An hour later he had taken anything that could be useful. Food and water were mainly canned, but they would do. Guns he found lacking, and less knives, but he did come across one beauty: a burnished chrome Desert Eagle. It must have cost one of these guards a fortune.
The keys unlocked the two airlock-style entrance doors and he was out into the Israeli desert. The prison faced North, he knew that, and the way he had to go was the same and to the West. He had food and clothing, nevertheless, it would be a long trip.
***
Five days later he reached the sea. He sat by the pier and waited, glad to feel fresh air on his face again.
He looked up as an engine purr gradually became louder. A speedboat, larger than average and luxurious, pulled up and the woman steering it gave him a wave.
“Jasmine” He breathed. “About time.”
She only nodded as he stepped aboard. They left the coast without talk or wasting time. As the land faded behind them, Felix turned back towards it.
“How glad I am to be leaving your filthy country, with its corruption and control. For hundreds upon thousands of years you have persecuted us, labeled our Gods as evil and us as heretics, poisoned us, choked us, burnt us at the stake! But no more. I am the Vindex, and I say that our people shall no longer tolerate this hatred. No more! Satanists shall be free, and your two thousand year lie will be revealed to all. We’ll see then where the people’s hatred is really directed.”
He spat into the water in contempt at the land they were rapidly leaving behind, and then it was gone.
If you have a better name, do reply - Magnum Opus is only a stand-in until I come up with something that represents it better, maybe even The Two-Thousand Year Lie.
If you like it, please tell me, and if you don't, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.
I'd also like to state that Magnum Opus is under copyright - do not reproduce or distribute it without my permission. Thank you!
Prologue
The raven swooped low in the darkening evening sky. The sun was going down, and its dying rays cast a golden orange light over the desert surroundings. Soon there would be darkness across the land, until the night passed and the sun began its journey, climbing towards the sky once again.
The sun’s last failing glimmers of light touched upon a building in the centre of the desert. It was a grim sight, the old building that had stood here in this very spot for hundreds of years. Since the first nomads had come to this land, there had been cells here to hold their prisoners of war. It was the ideal prison, isolated from human life by miles of harsh, dry desert.
The raven let out a cry as it flew, catching the wind on its wings, floating in mid-air. It turned, using an updraft to rise steadily.
The raven flew towards the building, still rising. As it reached the top, it dropped something that it had held clutched in its talons. It glided away towards the South, seeking a better place.
The object spun as it fell. The light crisp folded paper was tied to a small but heavy metal ball, to ensure that it fell correctly. It spun, falling straight down. There was not even a breath of wind to alter its course. As was intended, it dropped down, down towards the prison.
There was a clunk as the metal ball struck the metal ceiling, a visible dent marring the smooth barrier between incarceration and freedom. It rolled along the metal towards a grille in the ceiling, which had been put in place to provide the prisoner inside with fresh air; the only amenity this hellish prison deep inside Israel provided. As a prisoner of war, hardly anyone even knew he was here. While it let in air, it also gave him tantalising glances of the world outside, the world that had moved on without him.
There was movement inside the cell. He darted from a dark corner to the faint evening light let in by the grille. Reaching up with long fingers, he pulled the folded paper through the grille, tearing it from the heavy metal ball.
Squatting in the centre of the small dark cell where the weak light shone best, he unfolded the paper and began to read.
Dear Felix,
We have been waiting for a long time. You know better than many just how long the years take to turn, but know this: your waiting has not been in vain, as you told me all those many years ago. The age of Pisces is over; the age of Aquarius has begun.
Felix, it is time to return to us.
Come with all speed.
J.
He tore the note into pieces. Good. They still remembered him. Even after ten years, rotting away in a cell, they had not forgotten their friend.
The time had come, he could not wait a minute longer. Finally, he was breaking out.
He smashed his fists against the bars, making them rattle; an eerie sound in the almost silent desert.
“Help!” He screamed. “It’s got me, it’s going to - ahh!”
The clatter of urgent feet came from around the corner. A guard, one of the few paid highly to keep this forsaken place secure, came running. If anything happened to their prisoner, they would take the blame. Only one guard stayed on the alert every shift; only one prisoner languished here.
“What is it? I don’t see anything.” He barked at Felix.
“Come closer, sir.” He whimpered.
As the guard put his face to the bars, Felix sprung into action. Reaching through, he pushed three fingers into his neck, paralysing him. As expected, the cell’s keys lay in a bunch in his pocket. It was the work of a moment to let himself out.
Hopefully, he would remember the prison’s layout; it had been imprinted on his mind, he attempted to take it all in when he was first brought here. He was in luck. Despite the span of a decade since he had last been out of the cell, not much had changed. As he recalled, the cell was considered difficult enough to escape from; the guard who was taking the current shift had the only set of keys, and while other guards might be around, they would be in no position for a fight, even with the likely odds of three on one. They were merely wardens; he, however, had something to fight for.
As expected, when he found them, they were lazing around; playing cards and surfing the net. None were ready for him, a silent figure that struck one by one from the shadows. When he was finished, his was the only pulse that beat in the room. Job done.
An hour later he had taken anything that could be useful. Food and water were mainly canned, but they would do. Guns he found lacking, and less knives, but he did come across one beauty: a burnished chrome Desert Eagle. It must have cost one of these guards a fortune.
The keys unlocked the two airlock-style entrance doors and he was out into the Israeli desert. The prison faced North, he knew that, and the way he had to go was the same and to the West. He had food and clothing, nevertheless, it would be a long trip.
***
Five days later he reached the sea. He sat by the pier and waited, glad to feel fresh air on his face again.
He looked up as an engine purr gradually became louder. A speedboat, larger than average and luxurious, pulled up and the woman steering it gave him a wave.
“Jasmine” He breathed. “About time.”
She only nodded as he stepped aboard. They left the coast without talk or wasting time. As the land faded behind them, Felix turned back towards it.
“How glad I am to be leaving your filthy country, with its corruption and control. For hundreds upon thousands of years you have persecuted us, labeled our Gods as evil and us as heretics, poisoned us, choked us, burnt us at the stake! But no more. I am the Vindex, and I say that our people shall no longer tolerate this hatred. No more! Satanists shall be free, and your two thousand year lie will be revealed to all. We’ll see then where the people’s hatred is really directed.”
He spat into the water in contempt at the land they were rapidly leaving behind, and then it was gone.
