To move Caprica along…..

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    mandara k

    It is true, so they say, that many are overlooked in the shadows.

    It was so, on this planet where the Temple dwarfed all other structures. The small dwellings seem to huddle against the gleaming pillars of the huge structure. Unfortunately, as in most history, new found wealth had pulled the flock away from the heavy doors both physically and psychologically.

    From the pulpit, priests in multicolor vests railed against the secularization of Colonial life to smaller and smaller congregations.

    The local artisans fashioning statues for pilgrims have long since left or changed their focus.

    The major source of revenue for the Temple had been from these hardworking people; they worked hard in industrial settings, and refineries; and like so many hard-working middle-class simple people, when the factories began switching to more robotics; they first prayed, then they left to more lucrative places like Caprica.

    What was left were those that could still eek out an existence in the temple or lived on what their offspring sent them every week.

    Gram Melody was a survivor of many such storms of prosperity and loss. Many times her children and grandchildren have asked her to come to live with them. It was attractive to her, she would be well cared for in those new fangled condos for golden-agers; every need would be anticipated and met through the IMS +65; Individual Monitoring System.

    She refused. She said the soil here was sacred; she had been born here. raised 9 children, saw 3 oracles and 2 priests disappear through the temple doors and one day she would be buried with honors as a “Mother” of the Faith.

    Besides, she didn’t feel old. 75 was just a starting point she was quoted as saying.

    Sure, she’s had some tough times. hasn’t everyone. Her Llanda, had run off with a pilot but she had returned to take the vow just as two other daughters.

    She felt assured of her place with the Lords of Kobol.

    She, in fact was dreaming, of a quiet garden under fruit-laden trees where she moved with ease between gods and men, when a loud knock startled her from her afternoon nap.


    “Who is it? Llanda is that you?”

    “Mother please let me in!”

    Gram barely unfastened the latch when a hooded figure burst across her threshold and slammed the door shut. Frantically she clawed at the latch and when it clicked the heavily draped woman ran to the window and peeked out of a closed drape.

    “What are you doing. dear?”

    “I’m escaping.”

    “Escaping? The Temple? Why?”

    “Do you have any food, clothes?”

    “Of course, but why….”

    “I cannot tell you…. but I will contact you when it is safe.”

    “I do not understand.”

    “Please Mother, no questions, they’ll be here any moment.”

    Gram looked bewildered as Llandra disappeared up the stairs. The thumping and scraping above her informed Gram that her child was packing a suitcase. Gram moved to her kitchen and began wrapping canned foods and bread in a cloth and filling a water jug.

    A loud banging and cracking of wood reverberating through the small home.

    “HOW DARE YOU!” Gram screamed as she two heavily armoured men squeezed through her splintered door.

    A call of “She’s on the roof!” came from her back yard.

    Gram arrived just in time to see her beloved little girl fall to the ground.

    The ferocity of the moment seem to bleed out of these men as freely as the wounds of their prey. She laid, her lifeless blue eyes turned to the sky.

    “My darling!” Gram screamed as she hurried toward the lifeless form.

    “Ma’am, you’ll have to stand back.”

    “The hell I will! Don’t you touch her, you murderous dogs!”

    A man, after a few softly spoken words moved toward the body and after feeling for a pulse, began chanting over her.

    “Priest Rundell, is that you?” Gram asked incredulously.

    The man removed his headgear and turned toward her.

    “Gram, I am sorry for your loss.”

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