1,000 Years From Now

A/N: This is a work of fiction and I mean no offense to anybody of any religion, color or lifestyle. I also don't want to cause arguments. If you wish to state your opinion, feel free to do so in the comments, but please be respectful. 

Mae Winters awoke to a pounding on the door, her body slick with sweat as she threw the covers off. Her sister, Paige, slept soundly beside her. This was not the first disturbance in the middle of the night.

Her feet padded across the warm, wood floor as she walked to peer out the window. The scene in front of her eyes was hair-raising. Especially in her neighborhood, but she forced herself to look on. She saw torches lit and flashlights out, men and women alike stood stoic in white robes painted gold with swirling designs, but the most prominent was a large cross emblazoned over their chests. They dragged people out of their homes, questioning and whipping those who did not cooperate with shimmering electric whips.

Mae’s eyes widened, she fingered the small pendant that always sat in her throat before running to get her parents. Lights turned on and off as she raced through the house and she cursed silently to herself. What if they saw?

As she reached her parents bedroom, the pounding noises and screams got louder. The eerily smooth stones on the road outside reflected fire as cross bearing vigilantes lit houses on fire one by one.

Shots rang out through the night and Mae wondered why they were using such outdated weapons. Guns were a thing of the past, now everything happened through electrocution. Guns shot wires now, like tasers, and they had been that way since 3000. 15 years previous to this nightmare. Many people blamed the new technology for the terrorism that occurred on a daily basis. But Mae knew differently. Technology didn’t cause terrorism. Hate did. And ever since Same sex marriage was made legal in America in 2015, the Christians were at unrest. They held off for a few hundred years, but around the year 2950, the extremists began to pursue those who did not agree with them and those from other religions. And the Christians who refused to participate? They were executed just as swiftly as all the others.

“They’re coming,” she whispered hoarsely, “The Christians. They’re here.” Her Mothers each grabbed a knapsack they had prepared months before. They carried the necessities. Rations of food and water and a few outfits. It was only a matter of time.

Mae ran back through the house to wake her sister and grab the bags they’d prepared. She mentally kicked herself for not waking Paige first. Paige, at 5 years old, was 12 years younger than Mae and took more time getting out of bed. But they didn’t have time. Every second counted. The girls jammed socks and sneakers on their feet, taking their bags and meeting their Moms by the back door. Then they heard the pounding that rang throughout the house like the yell of a death sentence.

The small family of four hurried out the back door, sliding through the slick dew of the prosthetic grass as they ran. The smoke and smog in the air choked their lungs, slowing their pudgy bodies. Gunshots rang throughout the night, putting holes in the plastic ground. Then Paige fell, clutching her leg and screaming.

Blood gushed everywhere and her Moms fell beside her. They would risk their lives for their children, do anything for them.

“Viviana! Go with Mae.” Her Mom screamed to her other Mom. Viviana and Carol. They had been together for 20 years, married in secret by a sympathetic priest. Carol sat on the ground next to Paige as Mae ran harder, Viviana chasing after her. But eventually Viviana was shot down too and Mae was forced to listen to the screams of her family, bloodied and broken.

She heard heavy footsteps crushing the faux grass before she heard 3 more gunshots, and then silence. The sound of robes gliding along the ground was almost soundless, but Mae could hear it loudly and clearly. She wanted to fall to the ground and mourn her family, but she couldn’t. She had to keep going. Had to keep going for her Mothers, for the younger sister she loved so dearly. The little sister she never let out of her sight.

Mae finally found the Oasis, the alley splitting the two houses behind her yard. The street ahead of her was on fire and in the commotion she slipped between the houses to see the chaos.

A pregnant girl, no older than Mae, lay dead on the floor, blood leaking out of her head and her stomach. Her eyes stared ahead, unseeing and lifeless. Her bloodied hands covered her stomach, the baby in her womb that was considered an accident and a mistake to others, but a blessing to her.

Mae dropped to lay next to her, in pools of blood that came from others, shutting her eyes and staying as still as possible. She heard the yells of a man begging for his family’s lives, to spare them and take him instead. But he was quickly shot down as well.

They had no mercy, no respect. Chanting prayers from their Bible which had been altered so many times the words became corrupt. Words that had once been full of love and acceptance, that had once rang of freedom and hope, now portrayed hate and murder.

Eventually the sobs and screams quieted, robed figures walked through the houses they had broken into, double checking for signs of life. These were the houses where they found evidence of what they called “evil”. Two women sleeping in the same bed, a Torrah or a Qur’an. Sometimes, they killed you just because they saw no Bible. No cross on the mantel and no Bible verses on the walls.

Mae lay there all night, her body begging her for sleep. But the horrific images of murder and genocide flashed behind her eyelids. She couldn’t move, she was afraid to, even though the Christians had left long before. Nobody came to help, nobody came to aid those who may have survived. They were too afraid.

Mae sat up as yellow streaked the sky, the beautiful sunset out of place among the gray bodies and houses that all looked the same. Blood was dried in her hair and on her skin. Though she wasn’t injured on the outside, Mae felt as if her insides were ripping open. She sobbed, her head in her hands, tears mixing with the blood and the ash.

She got to her feet, barely able to carry her bag. Every step felt like a mile and she cringed every time she stepped. She tried to move around the bodies, but there were ashes on the ground. Ashes from objects, from people. Bone fragments that hadn’t quite burned crunched underneath her feet.

Mae was an orphan. She had no family now, her friends would probably report her if she sought help. And she turned to the sky trying to see the man her parents believed in. They believed in God. An accepting God, who was kind and blessed people. They prayed every night, they believed in the Christian God. But not the Christian God who was warped and changed by these people.

She looked up at the sunrise, brushing her bloody hair out of her face. And she said 3 simple words. “I’m done believing.”

***

Mae is a fictional character and the year 3015 has not happened yet. And yes, I am Christian. But if other Christians continue hating homosexuals and those who do not believe,nothing good will come of it.

Many homosexuals are Christian, there are tons of Christians who believe peacefully. The right way. But organizations like the Westborough Baptist Church and other extremists shame these believers.

This story is an exaggeration, but it represents hate in the most raw, physical form possible. Terrorism is not caused by technology. It is caused by hate. I mean no offense to those of you who do not target others that don’t believe. If we let this loathing fester inside ourselves, if we let it consume us, our humanity will be completely gone. And this is what will ensue.