A short story inspired by a photo of a woman and a particular old man in the sea.
The Dark Triad stared covetous evil in Its ocean-sky reflected death-mask, knowing It had already taken an entire planet with It.
And It smirked then whispered “To murder humanity is a means without end – but to end a world is power”.
“Show me It again!” It said, “Sell me you strangling a miracle! Snuff out the Pale Blue Dot before your Sun sent them to sleep. Show me that power. Pure power”.
And so It did. Cyclically, psychotically unbridled. By the numbers and most certainly by symbolism.
One. Saturated. Two. Unquenchable.
Mass-engineered concentrations of gender-driven patriotic poverty and vagrant ignorance, all just dying on an industrial-scale to liberate ‘lesser’ worlds filled with carved-out trenches and caged-killing fields; ever-ambitious hierarchical-arenas of lethally-efficient labour; of streamlined death-wealth that inevitably flowed up. Never trickling down. Ever.
The Paperclip attached to lessons learned from such things as teeth-fillings smelted into London vault-gold hoarded by the very source of The Company’s mass-media emotional-behavioural manipulation.
“All aboard!” purrs the Machiavellian fat-cat on spin-cycle; psychosocial-engineering dead dogs starvation on a self-sustaining gaslight-rollercoaster; an ‘Arbeit Macht Frei’ ride on the global corporate-government human-misery-go-round.
Then Act III. Just like in all the best theatre.
Always hypocritically sold as forever inveterate victimhood ‘defence’ and superior entitlement to those ‘others’ freedoms on the Wolf’s Lair ‘liberators’ terms – naturally. ‘Friend‘ and foe alike dispatched and delivered from another evil by living-Gods selling “We, The People” our own heroic, enchanted enslavement.
Only this time It was to be forever. And ever. And It was right – as ever. No compromise. As night follows day all eyes roll skyward. But of course, being narcissist, being ‘right’ forever – could never be enough.
Because The Dark Triad was devastatingly natural as was the black-gold in ‘It’, in which, were held the submarine-secrets of the untold trafficking and State-sold children’s story spanning more than a century; flowing, oozing, spewing and building by incessant, normalised, desensitised-wars to a humanity-planetary scale of self-destruction; all tapped into and drilled from deep within to weaponise the weather against the working masses.
But It was being found out. And so It would do what came naturally before being completely exposed to the wilful-blind; It would ungraciously implode with infinite military might and by all means necessary at Its slipped death-mask disposal to shake the very Universe, to shatter and take all Earthly sentience with ‘It’.
The End. Naturally.
This short story (with nods to Carl Sagan, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell and a grudging one to Joseph Goebbels) also gives a flavour of the symbolism within ‘Gaslighting Gilligan’.
“Writing fiction is the act of weaving a series of lies to arrive at a greater truth”. Khaled Hosseini.
🇬🇧 https://wp.me/p94Aj4-dZ 🇺🇸(🇷🇺)
#ToryAnalytica *MSM* #TrumpRussia #BrexitCoup #TickTockTroops…
‘Gaslighting Gilligan’ by Johnny McNeill; a contemporary dystopian ‘fiction‘ about the intrinsic, interconnectedness of both personal & State-political domestic abuse, was released from Berlin on 25th June 2017. It is copyright © 2017 but is a *free*-to-share public-service PDF download from here. 🇬🇧🇺🇸🇨🇦🇦🇺🇳🇿