-There's no reason to be afraid- -The perfect plan- -Warrior of god-

whoeverfightsmonster

When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse.

We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard.

But our favorite thing was the ghost.

We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing.

Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before.

Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night.

She just wanted to take care of us.

Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room.

Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us.

Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room.

We always felt sad putting it back against the wall.

Mother just wanted to be near us.

Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow.

She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed.

Then she'd hanged herself.

The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam.

Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.

Huntfrog

On Monday, I came up with the perfect plan.

No one even knew we were friends.

On Tuesday, he stole the gun from his dad.

On Wednesday, we decided to make our move during the following day's pep rally.

On Thursday, while the entire school was in the gym, we waited just outside the doors.

I was to use the gun on whoever walked out first.

Then he would take the gun and go into the gym blasting.

I walked up to Mr. Quinn the guidance counselor and shot him in the face three times.

He fell back into the gym, dead.

The shots were deafening.

We heard screams in the auditorium.

No one could see us yet.

I handed him the gun and whispered, "your turn."

He ran into the gym and started firing.

 I followed a moment after.

He hadn't hit anyone yet.

Kids were scrambling and hiding.

It was mayhem.

I ran up behind him and tackled him.

We struggled.

I wrenched the gun out of his hands, turned it on him, and killed him.

I closed his mouth forever.

On Friday, I was anointed a hero.

It was indeed the perfect plan.

KMApok

"If God exists, why is there so much evil in the world?"

It's a common question, but it is misplaced.

All things must have balance.

Light and dark.

Good and evil.

Sound and silence.

Without one, the other cannot exist.

"So if that's true, then God does NOTHING to fight evil?"

That might be your follow up question.

Of course he fights evil.

Relentlessly.

I am Dartalian, one of His most Holy and Righteous angels.

I roam the Earth, disposing of evil wherever I find it.

I kill the monsters you don't ever want to know about.

I crush them completely so you can sleep at night.

You humans have no idea how many of you live because of the work I do.

"But what about Stalin? Hitler? Ted Bundy? Jack the Ripper?

"Well, those are the minor ones I had to let live.

For balance.

The ones I destroy are ....too horrible and vile to survive.

What's funny, is while I would wager you never have heard the name Dartalian in any relegious texts, I bet you have heard of me.

Americans, for example, have their own name for me.

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

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