Malik

            I opened my eyes to nothing but darkness until my mother turned on my light.  I sat up in bed and opened the curtains.  It was too early for the sun to be up and I stared at my clothes at the end of my bed.  My mother picked out my clothes the day before because that day was a very special day. 

            I put on my clothes and I made sure that I wore a belt and a tie.   I walked down stairs with my parents smiling at me and telling me how proud they were.  My father took me into the bathroom and started to paint my face for the ceremony.  My father painted the top half of my face black and the bottom part red.  He got out a comb and fixed my hair although my hair was so short I thought there was no need. 

            We left our house and headed for the center of town where our place of worship was located.  There were no cars in town because it was against the law to have a car or any type of vehicle.  The town was small enough and that anyone located anywhere to walk to the center of town.  My family walked a block until we saw other families gathering at the center of town.  We walked into Town Hall and inside there were about ten elevators.  Each elevator could hold about thirteen to fifteen people.  My family and I squeezed into one with other townspeople. 

“Eli, are you nervous?” someone behind me asked.  I turned around to see a boy and a girl about my height.  The boy had the same hairstyle as I had except it seemed as if his hair was starting to grow and he too wore a shirt, pants, and tie.  The girl next to him had black hair that was tied back and she was wearing a nice dress with flowers on it.  Their faces were also painted the same.  The boy had a black handprint on his left cheek, while his sister had hers on her right cheek.  The top part of their faces were painted red. 

“No,” I replied to the question. 

“Scared?” asked the boy.  I shook my head and turned around.  I did not want to think about the ceremony.  I had been looking forward to it like any other child.  But I also knew that after this ceremony, my life would be different.  I closed my eyes and meditated.  Change was a part of life and our beliefs told us that we had to prepare for it. 

            When the doors opened, everyone walked to the underground temple.  The altar was in the front and on each side of the altar including the front were the pews.  Before I sat down my parents looked at me, one last time.  My father shook my hand and my mother kissed me.

“We are proud of you,” my father told me. 

“And we love you,” my mother said and then urged me to join the other children in the front pews.  I noticed a few tears going down my mother’s face but I knew they were not sad tears but tears of joy.

            When the gong rang everyone went silent.  Everyone faced the pews and watch as the priests came out in their black, hooded robes.  The head priest wore a red slash.  When they stood, we stood.  When they sat, we sat.  First we sang chants about our God and read from our holy book. 

“Now, we will ask all those turning ten today to stand,” the head priest said.  Everyone in the front pews, including me stood.  There were no such things as birthdays in our community.  Everyone turned the next age on the same date they enter the community when they were infants.  When I stood, I stared at the altar.

            The altar was a scary one, but we were told to not fear it.  It was a skeleton, wearing a black hooded similar to the priests but it was decorated with patterns and foreign letters.  The God had a necklace around his neck, which was made out of human fingers.  Fingers of those who betrayed him and tried to destroy our way of living.  In one hand, the God held a globe and in the other a scythe.  At the bottom of the feet was blood from the priests to show their loyalty along with red candles that were burning.  All around the room were burning candles.  There was light from electricity and light bulbs, but most our light came from the candles.  The candles represented the community’s loyalty to the God.  The God we called Malik. 

“My children,” started the head priest, “today is a special day.  When you were young, before you could walk and talk you became a part of this community.  This community promised to raise you under the teachings of Malik.  All of you are aware that you do not become full members until the age of twenty, however ten is a special number.  It was the tenth day that Malik was halfway finished with his holy book, it was the tenth follower who became the first priest of Malik, and it was a ten year old child who converted over one hundred adults in an outside community.  In this ceremony, we, as a community, acknowledge you for being half finish with your education and learning.  In another ten years you will be full members and you will be able to participate in activities that you cannot be a part of as a child.  However, at the age of ten, the first leader of our religion discovered Malik and gave him his loyalty.  Today, you will show your loyalty to Malik and learn what our first leader learned.  And that is to be independent on yourselves and the community.  Parents of these children please come up to the altar to prepare,”

            I did not turn around to watch the parents get up.  I stood with the other ten year olds facing the altar.  The parents got up on the altar and stood in a straight line, as if they had been practicing where to stand.  My parents stood side by side at the far end of the line.  They were holding hands and my father kissed my mother on her head.  I watched as other parents did the same.  One of the priests then handed the head priest a knife. 

“Our first leader learned that he had to be independent to follow Malik.  Thus, on the night of his tenth birthday, he made sure that they did not get in the way.  And you, my children, will do the same,” he said.  I watched as the head priest went down the row.  Slitting the necks of each parent.  There was no noise except the noise of the knife cutting their throats.  No one cried, or screamed, or laugh, or yell.  It was quiet.  There were no emotions on any one’s face.  Eventually the priest got to my parents and I stared at each of them in the face.  I saw one thing on their faces: pride.  They were proud of me and I was proud of them.  Then before I knew it, they were gone. 

            My house was given away to a newly wed couple, which was custom.  I packed my stuff and donated my old toys to families with young children.  The other children and I were given two hours to pack and arrive at the education building, which was to become our new home.  I carried one bag and one suitcase.  It was filled with mostly clothes along with my praying beads, a symbol of our religion, and our holy book.  I took anything that was important to me including my journals, which I occasionally wrote in so that maybe one day I could share the beliefs of our religion to the outside world like our first leader. 

            I arrived at the education building with ten minutes left.  Most of the other ten year olds were already there.  When it was time, the principal came in and called us up one by one.  We were each given a key to our new room in the dormitory.  My key had the number 1-13 on it to represent the first floor, door 13. 

            When I got to my room, I met my roommate, Samuel.  Samuel was the smallest ten year old that I knew.  He still had some paint left on his face and he left his good clothes on.  I was guessing that he had trouble trying to get out of them and his eyes were puffy.  I knew he cried, he was a wimp and a mommy’s boy.  He probably missed her already, although his mother was extremely strict. 

            At noontime we all gathered in the main room that was filled with folding chairs for us to sit in.  They principal told us the rules.  We were not allowed outside the school grounds without an adult, we had to earn money by getting a job either at school or in town, and our school days were going to be different.  We were no longer going to learn math, reading, writing, and children songs about Malik.  In our new environment we were always going to learn about Malik, our religion, and learn how to fight with weapons which included swords, knives, and of course, guns.  This was one of our unique laws in our religion.  Killing those who do not believe in Malik is not a sin, it is righteous.  I’ve heard that since I could remember. 

            During my third year at school, I was working at the post office.  My job was to deliver mail to a certain section in our town.  Sometimes I was asked to sit at the front desk and help people with their letters and give them stamps.  Very few times there were letters that went outside our community, but that was not my job, that job was left to the full members of the community.  But one deliveryman changed my life and the life of my community. 

            The man walked into the building and right away I knew he was not from our community.  Sometimes a deliveryman from outside the community arrived with packages and letters but I only saw a few on rare occasions.  This man was dressed in all brown, including a brown hat, and was bleeding all over.  He had only one letter in his hand and he was shaking.  His eyes showed me fear. 

“Excuse me?” I asked surprised by his condition.  It looked like he was protecting that letter with his life. 

“To the leader of this community,” he said and he collapsed.  I hurried over to him and yelled for help.  I watched as three men came inside and saw the man.  They asked me what the letter was in his hand I told them that it had to go to the head priest, our leader.  The three men stared down at the deliveryman and ignored that he was barely breathing and struggling to stay alive.

“What’s your religion?” asked one of the men.

“I’m a Catholic,” the man struggle to say. 

“How long has it been?” asked one of the men to the other two. 

“For me, about a month, you?”

“I can’t remember, about the same,”

“Last week for me, remembered that drunk guy on the property?” and the two men nodded. 

“You can do it, I’ll get the next one,” said one of them and the three started to look around. 

“You got any weapons in here?” the biggest man asked, looking straight at me. 

“Scissors,” I replied.

“Good enough.  Get them,” and I went into the back room and grabbed the pair and gave it to the man who handed to the guy on his left.  The deliveryman put up his hands but could barely keep them up. 

“Please,” he said but the men ignored him.  Without a second thought, the man with the scissors stabbed him and after a few more stabs, the deliveryman was dead. 

“We’ll take the body.  You’re a delivery boy, right?” the biggest man asked me and I nodded.

“Take the letter to the head priests,” and without a second thought I grabbed the letter and ran into the underground temple.  I found the priests praying in front of the altar.  Some were sitting, some were standing, and some were laying face down on the floor.  They heard my footsteps walking in because a few of them turned around. 

“Boy, you should not be here unless it is an emergency,” said one of the priests.

“I have a letter for the head priests,” I said and then they all looked at me.

“The head priest does not receive letters.  Whoever it is from must come here in person,” said a female priest. 

“The deliveryman from the outside world said it can only be read by the head priests,” and I continued to tell them what had happened at the post office.  When I was done they all looked at each other with surprises on their faces. 

“I will get the head priest,” said the eldest priest and he walked through a door that was behind the altar.  I knew that the door lead to the living quarters of the priests because I took a field trip there with my class during one of our religion classes. After about five minutes, the head priest came out and I handed him the letter. 

“Leave,” he told me and I left without looking back. 

            I knew whatever the letter said, it was bad.  Just as quickly as I got back to the post office, I quickly went back to the temple when a town meeting was called.  It was an emergency.  We all gathered in the temple, waiting for the head priest to speak about the emergency.  When all the priests came out, the head priest gave us terrible news.  A few of the towns that surrounded our area wanted us to leave and our country wants to arrest us for a religion that was not approve by the state, which was a lie because we all knew that our religion was approve in the 1950’s.  When the head priest said this, there was uproar among the adults.  When the head priest raised his hand, everything went quiet. 

“I have a solution for these, non-believers,” said the head priests.  He asked anyone under the age of ten to leave.  We all sat and listened to his plan and it was perfected.

            At nine at night we all gathered in the main room.  We all wore black sweats and black T-shirts along with black shoes.  Some even wore black headgear such as bandanas, hats, and visors.  We lined up from the oldest which were the nineteen year olds to the youngest.  When I walked up to the principal he handed me my gear.  A gun, bullets, and a knife.  Since we were short on weapons, the ten year olds were each given a knife and nothing else.  They were disappointed and to encourage them not to whine, the principal gave each of them a scary face. 

“Are you all aware of the plan?” he asked us and we all answered, “yes” in unison.  We then left the education building with the principal and into the center of town where the adults were. 

“We bless you all,” said the priests.  Only the youngest priest was going to lead us and the rest of them were going to stay in the underground temple with the children.  With our military leader, we left in the dead of night towards the towns that surrounded our community. 

            I was sent to a town whose name I did not care to remember.  It was surrounded by woods so it was easy to sneak into.  We dodge their police cars and any pedestrian that was out.  When I saw them I grew with rage.  I hated how they did not acknowledge our wonderful religion and way of life.  They had ipods, computers, cars, and more unnecessary technology.  It was so sinful and I knew that many of them either did not believe in a God or did not practice their religion on a daily basis, unlike our community. 

            Samuel and I decided to target a house.  With our skills we were able to pick locket and enter.  We knew there might be hidden alarms so we attack quickly.  We went upstairs and opened the door to a room where a couple was sleeping.  We got out our knives and killed them in their sleep.  We checked other rooms for children, but the couple had no children. 

            We moved on to the next house that had two dogs which was dangerous for us.  Dogs easily barked at trespassers.  Samuel and I got out sleeping gas and threw it through the windows, which made the animals go to sleep.  Due to the windows breaking, the house lights went on and so did anyone inside.  Samuel and I climb through the window, ignoring the cuts by the glass.  When the man came down we shot him and then we heard screams upstairs.  We ran upstairs and found a woman with three children, including one that must had been fourteen.  I got even angrier because a fourteen should be able to be independent and not rely on his or her parents.  I aimed at the teenager first before firing at the mother and the children. 

            Police sirens started to go off.  We were no longer afraid of their cars and red and blue lights.  We know saw targets.  We shot at the cars before the policemen could get out of their cars.  One car I shot turned and hit a tree.  Samuel and I checked it to make sure that the driver died and his passenger.  We succeeded and that was when the town went in an uproar.  People started to leave their houses and get in their cars.  Cars were a number one target and sometime we found families trying to sneak out through the wood areas.  We were able to hear gun shots and screams everywhere.  After what felt like hours, the shots and screaming started to die down.  When the sun came up, we knew that we had to return to our community. 

            Although we succeeded in killing the people in the town, we were surprised to find the FBI surrounding our community.  They raised their guns to us and told us to drop them.  Instead we all yelled the name of Malik and ran at the FBI.  The squad opened fired at us but we kept running.  I felt a bullet go through my leg and I fell.  I realized I was in pain, but Malik taught us that pain is only an illusion.  I got back up with only a knife in my hand and dragged myself towards the FBI, which now became a hand-to-hand fight.  A hard object in the head hit me and I fell down, then I blacked out.

            “Hello there, sweet heart,” said the old lady who opened the door.  She looked at me in the face with a smile but I knew it was fake. 

“This is Michael,” said my caseworker but in my head I reminded myself that my name was Eli. 

“What a beautiful necklace,” the lady said and reached out to see it, but I backed away. 

“He won’t let anyone touch it and he won’t take it off.  We do not know what the symbol is,” said my caseworker.  I held on to my necklace in a tight fist.  They may had taken me away from my community, the people I knew and loved, and my holy place but I knew who my God was and I knew who I was and where I came from. 

            I walked up stairs to my new room and sat on my new bed.  I could hear the two adults talking down stairs.  Before they sent us to different locations we all made plans.  What to do and where to meet up. 

“You poor non believer,” I said softly, “I will return tonight and you will die,”

            In small communities that are spread out all across the world, children are turning ten and at this very moment their parents will die and their lives will never be the same.  These communities follow the teachings of a God name Malik.  They have a plan to destroy all other religions.  By the year 2020, their religion will be the only one standing and all others will fall.