Chapter 126

0950 hours, local time,
Thursday, 24 July, 2014
Beckley, WV

We had been traveling for roughly forty-five minutes, though admittedly moving at a slower pace than usual, when we arrived in Beckley, West Virginia. This town was the former county seat of Raleigh County, though fairly small compared to Charleston or Huntington. It was still rather larger than Hinton, by comparison, of course. We weren’t absolutely sure what to expect when we showed up.

Well, it turned out that God had reaped the older Beckleyites or Beckleyans or whatever a bit early. The city “fathers,” as such, were a lot less mature in terms of seniority. A collection of the local gentry or whatever, awaited me at the city limits. A prematurely balding gentleman who understandably forsook the necktie and wore a short-sleeve dress shirt stood at the head of things. He seemed to be well-aware of my identity.

“Welcome to Beckley, Prophet Clarke. It is a great honor. Forgive me if we’re missing people. God took a bunch of people in person. He killed them on the spot and resurrected them as angels before our very eyes. Oh, and I was told that Vera and Taissa Farmiga were to head the new congregation here and basically become the new community leaders. They were supposed to baptize us, marry a bunch of us, etc.

“So, welcome, Sisters Vera and Taissa. I am Luther Mackey. I am the interim Mayor, if you will. I was a pastor in the Church of the Nazarene, back before, well, you know. Now I’m organizing things like ‘Naked Week’ or ‘Half-Naked Week’ or whatever you prefer. Subject also to the guidance of our two new Elders, if you will. So, which is it to be during the week of your stay here?” the man at the head of the delegation announced.

“We defer to the Prophet for now. What happens afterward is another matter. So, my dear, what’s it to be?” Vera asked me while Taissa held her hand and nodded in support.

“Who will supervise any children during ... you know,” I asked aloud.

“Me,” I heard my father’s voice.

Yes, it was my father, the Archangel Raphael. He wasn’t alone. What could I say? Clearly, the brats were in good hands, those of angels. Also, just as clearly, once again, my involvement in some kind of promiscuity and breeding program was given a high priority. It was important enough that God would almost literally move Heaven and Earth to make it happen. Evidently, I really was the Johnny Appleseed of breeding in Appalachia.

“Oh, very much so. All of my Prophets must breed a lot, as you must know. Especially the Lawgiver, but far from limited to him. Even the Elders, Priests, etc. It is your sacred duty, as you have surely discovered by now. Preaching the truth matters, of course, but breeding the new generation into existence, the one that will know only the truth, is a guarantee of the future. Of posterity, of course. All this you know. I am simply reinforcing it, as it is still an adjustment that you will take many years to overcome. That is due to your indoctrination.

“Your progeny and descendants will not have those issues. They will be free of such useless baggage, the legacy of my predecessors, their Prophets, and their death cult. For what else is Christianity but a death cult? Its central tenet is one of blood, death, and human sacrifice, its central ordinance meant to be either a literal, symbolic, or memorial act of cannibalism and vampirism? My church, the one that I ordained, will not be of that sort. It will embrace life, pleasure, and sensuality, bringing Eros and Thanatos back into balance after the latter held far too much sway,” God declared as he appeared among us.

“That definitely will impact my first sermon to the congregation here,” Vera laughed, even as I played with her ass and her sister’s rather brazenly, albeit through her clothes.

“In any case, I opt for full nudity. All week long. Everyone aged fourteen years old and up. But not yet. Beginning with baptism. It will be a mark of those baptized. Still basically everyone, though it won’t be shoved down anyone’s throats. If someone is adamant that they won’t go naked, won’t get baptized, they can naturally opt out.

“They won’t get Schumacher Syndrome, they won’t experience delayed aging, and they will be rather conspicuous, rather lonely in a hurry, and odds are, they will die before everyone else, won’t get to procreate, either,” I proclaimed, getting immediate applause from the city fathers, my tribe, and everyone else present.

“So, I would favor ordaining Reverend Mackey as another Elder and Priest, if that’s fine with everyone here, as soon as he is baptized,” Taissa suggested, “also, making him our first local husband. What do you think? Are you married, Reverend Mackey?”