Chapter 21: The Land Without Footprints: Shadows Amongst Shadows

Posted: October 6, 2013 in Novel: The Land Without Footprints
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21 – Jordan

“Won’t we go to hell for this?” Damyn asked, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

With a hand, Jordan shielded his eyes of sunlight. “Truly, we will go to hell for this, if there is a hell, bastard. Though the stench of this city makes me wonder if we’re not already there.”

Empty were the streets. Truly they were always empty on MILF’s Day. Everyone stayed inside fucking their mothers, and if not theirs, then somebody else’s. Jordan wondered what it would’ve been like to suck the nipple of his mother while grown, pushed the thought from his mind in shame. Family doesn’t fuck each other, his father had said.

If not for the Cult of Sigmund Freud, MILF’s Day wouldn’t even exist. That cult wanted a ban on all sexual acts outside of the family. Truly, they believed that sex should be confined to close relatives where all sexual acts could be deemed safe. So far, not everybody else had agreed. However, the Mystic was a great promoter of incest.

But with no living daughters the Mystic had to go outside of his nuclear relationships to mate. Though why Father Tillicum had picked Jordan to find a womb he’d never understand. And why the head priest had picked a bastard to help with the search, he truly would never understand.

Damyn put his ear to a door. “Why don’t they have this same holiday for fathers?”

Jordan looked through a window and saw nothing but darkness. Curtains made sure nobody could peek in.

“It’s common knowledge that fathers fuck their children whenever they want,” he said. “Besides, fathers are the least important parent.”

“Yeah,” Damyn agreed. Then he kicked on the door. It didn’t burst open like it did in stories.

Jordan pushed the bastard aside, kicked. The door still didn’t budge. “We must be too young,” the bastard said. “Maybe if we curse at the door it will fall.”

Again Jordan kicked. Still nothing. “Knock this door down,” he commanded of the soldiers behind them.

Short battering rams in hand, two soldiers beat on the door until the hinges loosened. The soldiers barged into the tiny room. Soon after Damyn and Jordan followed.

An old lady was riding a boy who looked too young to have reached puberty. “Why ain’t you knock?” the woman asked, untangling herself from her son. She had hair on her armpits and vagina.

“Why aren’t you at the church observing the holiday?” one of the soldiers asked.

Only today the church had issued a new doctrine. Those who weren’t mothers were allowed to remain in their houses, but anyone who’d given birth had to convene at their local church for a giant incestuous orgy. The priesthood wanted to make sure that everybody was being holy on a holy day.

“Why ain’t you knock?” the woman asked again.

This time a sword thrust answered her. After a groan she died. The murderer removed the weapon from the carcass, wiped the blood on the soiled bed sheets.

“Hey, that lady was gonna pay me for fucking her,” the boy screamed, punching the soldier who killed her. So he wasn’t her son, just a street-kid that had run out of food.

“Was she?” the fatter of the two soldiers said, and he took the boy by the neck as well. “How much did the old lady give you?”

“That between me and her.” The boy patted his stomach.

It had become so dangerous to carry money in the city that most people swallowed their coins until they thought themselves safe of thieves.

The skinny soldier, the one who’d killed the woman, patted the boy on his head. “Well, you won’t need money where you’re going, boy. Do you know the punishment of recreational fucking on MILF’s Day?”

Damyn whistled. “Let’s go, you two. There is nothing left here.”

The soldier slid his sword into the ear of the boy until it came out the other side. “Let’s go,” he agreed beside a laugh. “There’s nothing left here.”

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