Episode Fifteen: The Game That Never Ends

   Why is this an episode and the others are just parts? I got tired of typing the word part and it is my blog. So there.

   Fiction here. Sermon length thoughts over at http://aintsobad.typepad.com/pastorspal. When you  comment you serve as my editor, interlocutor, agitator and thought provoker, like Jay Fleming did today.

The Game That Never Ends, Episode Fifteen

   "He will not come back to me," the wife thought after her husband was gone a day and a night and a day.

   "I drove him away forever," she said to the Game.

   "No, no, no," the Game Master’s voice replied. "He is just weak. He will return. You will see him again. His addiciton to you grows day by day. You will make him stronger in the Game. You can see."

   She was more wedded to the Game than to him now. He wed her but she wed the Game. She loved him, too, but she wanted him to see what the Game showed her. If they could just see it together they would together be as wise as the Elders and as strong as the Spirit Guide.

   She could see a little now but it was fuzzy sight. She needed to see more.

   She knew a bit more now. She needed him to know.

   They would lead then. No waiting, no growing to a high point, no more longing for the Spirit Guide. They would take the lead.

   "Strange," she thought, "I never wanted this before now. Why do I want to lead now?"

   No matter. She felt the compulsion to own more than her neighbor. Knowledge was power, she realized then. With the knowledge of the Game they could see the future, predict events. They would know. They would see life and death itself. They would see determine evil and good. What they was good would be good and what they proclaimed as bad would be bad. They would set the style.

   "He will come back to you, you will see. He will be naked, dirty and hungry. You will clean him, clothe him and feed him, " the Game Master whispered in her ear.

   "Now, cover yourself," he told her.

   Astonished, she recognized her vulnerability. For the first time, in her own home, she was ashamed.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.