Posts Tagged ‘organised religion’

angel outline against a blue sky

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Cast of Wonders 567: Disposable Gabriel

Cast of Wonders 567: Disposable Gabriel is a Cast of Wonders original.

Commercialisation of religion, abuse of non-human sentients, terminal illness.

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Disposable Gabriel

by Brian D. Hinson

The lights illuminated a young Mary sitting alone, in a humble abode of wood on the stage of a church that more resembled a sports arena. The stadium screen behind her displayed the dusty streets of Nazareth: clusters of connected adobe brick structures beneath an orange sun blazing its last glory on the horizon.

The angel Gabriel swooped in from an aerial catwalk, huge feathered wings angled for a glide, and a collective gasp filled the auditorium. He alighted in front of Mary, folding wings that glowed in the spotlight. Mary leapt up and screamed, back pressed against the far wall.

Gabriel’s voice thundered. No mic pickup was necessary. “Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.”

The crowd cheered.

Pastor Anabel stood offstage, arms crossed. By her side, the play’s director, Pastor Jude, beamed as he scratched his beard, an old anxious habit. It was Christmas Eve, the final performance, and things were going perfectly. (Continue Reading…)

Christmas Baubles against a backdrop of a dark sky

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Cast of Wonders 566: Will She Remember the Lights?

Originally published in Underneath the Tree: Twelve Christmas stories from Writers in Northern Ireland in November 2020

Dystopia, Organised Religion as a tool of the State.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 33:22 — 45.8MB)

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Will She Remember the Lights?

by Samuel Poots

The reader spits out my finance card, its screen flashing a book and cross in luminous green. The young man behind the counter gives me a wary look as he hands the card back and says, in a carefully neutral tone, “Sorry Brother, your account has been locked.”

His words ripple through the queue of people behind me; their stares prickling across my skin like crawling ants. All I can do is murmur an apology, hoping that I sound more confused than guilty, before hurrying out of the store and making my way to the Financial Office across the town square.

Winter winds have stripped the place bare of people. Even the Security Deacons have found excuses to linger indoors, which is one small mercy. The only other face I see as I cross the open span of concrete is that of the Reverend Father shining from his pole-mounted projectors. The image flashes from fatherly love to stern disapproval, so I’m never quite sure which I’ll see when I look up. Normally I take some comfort from the sight. Light blazes from that face, pushing back the growing shadows of this darkest time of the year. It might be a far-cry from the colourful bunting of my childhood, but I take pride in knowing that it’s often my wiring that keeps the Reverend Father always before us. (Continue Reading…)