SUPERHERO

July 04, 2017  •  Leave a Comment

 

SuperHero
by Charles Fisch ©2017

Sarah had always been a cry baby.
Ever since she could remember, in stressful situations, the tears
would flow. Now, in the middle of a bank robbery, bullets flying everywhere,
there she was —frozen in time and space. Saline rivers spilled down her face.
While the robbers, the police, the employees were crouched down, hiding behind
furniture for survival, Sarah stood tall, unguarded like a peace monument.
As her gaze found the leader of the gang, their eyes locked for an
eternal second —just enough of a distraction for the police
to jump him. The other thieves gave themselves up…

This was Sarah’s first assignment as a rookie. She certainly wasn’t expecting this crazy crying and freezing again, especially in the middle of a takedown. She had been sure that she was over it… Yes, Sarah had always been a cry-baby. That’s what she was called in school. When anyone tried to bully her, she would cry; and then they would… hmmm… sort of leave her alone. When her parents fought, she cried. They stopped fighting to check if she was allright. The waterworks seemed to work for her.

The tests for her entrance into the academy should have caught her weakness. Now, she would have to endure weeks of even more invasive Psych evaluations. She’d been handed the cliché that her lachrymosity was her way of coping with stressful situations… Duh! Of course it’s a great release! But it is also debilitating. Would she crack again on the job and get wounded, disabled, killed —or endanger the lives of others?

The doctors suspected her condition was some form of rare borderline personality disorder. For months they worked on strengthening her ego, so that she could do her job with less indecisiveness. Intensive martial-arts, take-down exercises and gun training were also calculated to boost her confidence. Since she was shy, they placed her into the new “Conflict Resolution” pilot program that the “bleeding heart Leftist” City Councillors were trying to introduce into the force. The department really wanted her to succeed. To get re-elected, the Mayor’s campaign had announced a drive for more female police officers. There was a lot riding on her success.

But eventually Sarah had to return to duty and her unit was soon called to a hostage taking. A soldier with PTSD, who had recently returned from back-to-back tours of duty in a warzone, was holding a knife to his wife’s throat at a kindergarten. She was divorcing him and taking the kids because they were traumatized by his despondence, nightmares and outbursts of rage. The government closed the veteran’s health centre nearby to save money, so he was left to deal with his own angst. Ignoring the “why,” police had surrounded the place with guns drawn, shouting orders at the man to put down his weapon. Several sharpshooters had already focused red laser crosshairs precisely on the centre of his forehead, while the mewling children were being slowly moved out of the room by staff.

At the most tense moment…that silence before the storm when everything is on the verge of exploding, Sarah could taste the salty liquid flowing down her cheeks. As her pleading countenance connected with the man’s frenzied, confused stare, he, too, wept. His whole being drained of years of wound-up tension and went soft. The knife fell from his hand. Instantly, 14 policemen emptied their gun clips into him. He became an epileptic rag-doll…a sieve full of holes spurting blood everywhere, as his corpse collapsed to the ground in paroxysmal stop-motion pixilation. Only a split second had been left to yank the poor wife out of the way.

Shock and grief fused with the smell of burnt gunpowder made the air viscous. As if they had been turned into pillars of salt, an eternity went by before anyone moved. Then in utter silence people started to wipe congealed blood from their faces. The carcass —what was left of it— was taken away. Sarah lost her job.

Her soppy blubbering had become a liability, which she was desperate to overcome. She became a cop to uphold the law in a humane way and to help people… Not to empty her gun clip into them, but to talk them down and ease distress. She truly believed that sometimes people simply experience a manic episode. They need help to realize that they are being driven by despair or by some form of euphoria —overpowering energies of which they are not even aware. They can usually be reasoned with and disarmed if they are not threatened and further antagonized. Her parents’ struggles with mental illness had taught her a lot about humanity. Guns should be the last resort —not the first! The police are not the law. They are delivery boys (& girls) for the law… Let the courts decide people’s fate —not poorly trained, scared, angry cops with uncontrolled trigger fingers.

So she applied to work at a women’s shelter, where she could at least be helpful while she gathered together her own pieces. Little did she know that she had merely entered a different kind of battlefield. Everyone was experiencing their own and each other’s crises in every sigh, in each held back whimper, as they shared their stories. Some of them continued to be bullied by cruel women with criminal records who were in a morose withdrawal from alcohol and various hard drugs. An omnipresent threat added to everyone’s terror. Sarah tried to mitigate the mood and the flare-ups with the conflict resolution techniques she had learned from police training while she worked on suppressing her snivelling…

One Friday afternoon, a man stumbled upon the shelter while tracking down his wife. Both were new immigrants from the Middle East. But the wife could no longer submit to her bushy-bearded Fundamentalist husband beating her and abusing her like a slave. She hated the Imam for not helping her and for condoning her subjugation. All this because 1400 years ago the Prophet Mohammed —peace be upon him— ordered women to be obedient to their husbands, even through years of rape and beatings, as the only way for them to get into Paradise in the after-life. How convenient for his fellow patriarchs… For now, a peaceful present life was her priority —peace be upon her. In a free country, she no longer had to accept her servitude. Ripping from her head and burning, the 7thC black mask that denied her identity was her 1st act of defiance —for which she got bruises. Having no financial or social resources, her only option was to escape to a shelter with her 5 children. Hearing her husband banging on the door and bellowing threats in a guttural baritone, the wife was unable to choke down her exploding panic. Her shrill screams echoed into the cosmos with the psychotic agony of a creature being murdered —revealing her presence. He rammed the door down.

As the enraged man invaded the sanctuary, Sarah was choking up, but stood in his way. He immediately raised his hand to strike, but as their eyes met, his muscles slowly lost tenseness and he became placid, yet bewildered. In silence, he now seemed to look inward —questioning— as shivers ran up and down his spine. The blaming, shaming and punishing ideologies that had been hammered into him since childhood were banging around in his head like running-shoes in a dryer. They no longer had power. As the police were carting him away, his tormented expression suddenly turned to a wide-eyed awe. With the deepest breath he had ever taken, came the awareness that he was now free. Everything had a new meaning. Colours were brighter… Instead of anger he felt pure love for his family and was already planning how to create a safe, welcoming home for them… A delightful place to live and grow up.

Luckily the police had arrived quickly. The manager of the shelter could be heard stomping down the hallway to get her grizzly gun, to shoot the guy dead. She hated men in general, so, did not approve of Sarah’s intervention, molly coddling and reasoning. Nor could she even consider the idea that some women also exploit men and damage them emotionally; even physically. Actually, that really pissed her off.

Sarah thought she would get fired. But instead, one of the shelter workers took her aside to thank her for her bravery. She had been watching Sarah since her arrival. The elderly white-haired woman with the soft-focus vision had been studying subtle energies for healing and explained to Sarah that her tears were a gift. Her sobbing attenuated the violence. It distracted people from the angry “App” running in their minds. The distraction helped them refocus to the present moment, to be able to re-evaluate right from wrong.

Sarah was starting to realize that her weepiness may not be a weakness. Looking back, she saw that it had been helpful to others during crisis situations. But she never thought of it as a gift. If it was truly a gift, then she must develop it; learn to master it; and share it. Though, she was still not sure…

For her own encouragement, she had to test her abilities. Looking for trouble in the most dangerous parts of town, she found it —and it found her. Shootings, knifings, robberies, rape, barfights, domestic disputes, left Sarah weeping every night for months, diffusing one gruesome situation after another. By now she had accepted that her tearfulness did seem to be a power; not a weakness. But she was exhausted and in need of a well deserved rest.

Before that could happen, she landed in the middle of an anti-Sharia protest between ExMuslims and Masked Islamists, whose dark ideologies glowed through the seams of their tenebrous shrouds. The newly elected Socialist Government wanted to incorporate Sharia Law into the Legal code of their democratic country, to accommodate Muslim immigrants.

It was obvious that the government didn’t understand that Secular Muslims, average Muslims, Fundamentalist Islamists, and Jihadists were a continuum of the same religion. The idea was similar to Christians who may be Secular, Liberal or Conservative, or Fundamentalist fanatics —such as the Westboro Baptist Church and the KKK, but more dangerous. As Secular Liberals hate Fundamentalist ideas, Secular Muslims hate Sharia and its costumes, headgear and masks.

ExMuslims who had barely escaped from severe Theocracies were outraged that a secular government would betray their Human Rights, by catering to Fundamentalists, who pray for the death of Christians, Jews, Hindus, Gays, in most mosques around the world!! They despised the oppressive Sharia that is practiced by Fundamentalists and Jihadist Terrorists! It was obvious that the government didn’t understand that Secular Muslims, average Muslims, Fundamentalist Islamists, and Jihadists were a continuum of the same religion. The idea was similar to Christians who may be Liberal, Conservative or Fundamentalist fanatics —such as the Westboro Baptist Church and the KKK, but more dangerous. As Secular Liberals hate Fundamentalist ideas, Secular Muslims hate Sharia and its costumes, headgear and masks.

As Secular and ExMuslims, they wanted to start a new life; leave their old clothes and old ways behind and to assimilate into their new country. So, they were even more offended when they saw Secular politicians dressed in Fundamentalist Muslim costumes at “Salafist” events, not knowing —or ignoring in exchange for votes— that those clothes were drenched in the blood of victims of Sharia. They were not “Fashion Statements” but “Faction Statements.” Salafists were the Muslims who wanted to convert the whole world to the ugliest, most severe form of Sharia based Islam, which promotes child-brides, honour killings, genital mutilation, killing of Gays, along with conquest of all nonMuslims. History had centuries of proof of their intent through scriptures, invasions, colonization, rape and slavery, and the wholesale denial of women’s equality over vast territories —even in present day. How could any well meaning human being ignore all that —and see only cloth?!

To the “Politically Correct” “Regressive Left,” the Niqab, Burka and Hijab represented all Muslims as one monolithic group. Anyone who denounced any of the 17 sects of Islam or their style of “expression,” were vehemently labeled “Racists!” Shunned. For ExMuslims and Secular Muslims, such ignorance threatened their life. Leaving Islam was Apostasy —punishable by death! They had been hiding out for years. How far would they have to run to escape Masked Islamists on their heels, as they invaded and seized democracies through migration? Ex-Muslims now living in a free country felt equivalent to Jews who had escaped concentration camps, only to have their Fascist guards in uniform move in next door in their new country!

The placards soon became bloodstained weapons. Sarah was busy neutralizing one vehement battle after another with her oozing brine. But it wasn’t enough. There was something missing. She had come to rely on a formula that had worked until now — cry and people realize their wrongdoings and walk away… But with this volume of hostilities, she needed to grow her power to combat crowd psychosis.  

She could now lacrimate on cue. But that was all on the surface. Empathy had to invade every cell of her body to trigger a supernova in her emotions. She had to crash past the pain threshold of her soul to find the essence of her power at its quiet centre. There she could channel the cosmic forces that have a balancing effect on living beings. As she delved deeper into heart-wrenching inner levels, her physical form finally succumbed to a coma, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of her passion. On the verge of death, a screeching ambulance whisked her away from an alley in the most wretched part of town.  Weeks later she awoke from her coma —her chrysalis— and emerged as a butterfly.

Then came her chance to show her Super Power to the world. A standoff was brewing downtown with protesters against police brutality. Thousands were amassing with placards. Whole battalions of police were armed with guns, truncheons, teargas and pepper spray. They clashed! Bone crunching savagery amid screams of agony… Everyone’s torment in the crowd was a cluster-bomb to Sarah’s psyche, that she channeled through her pores into her every molecule. Before, she would wail for self-preservation. Now, everyone’s afflictions en mass tortured her to anguished wailing. Her aura was growing to try to envelop all the conflict and to extinguish it.

Then it happened. Starting with the ones closest to her, people started calming —putting down their weapons. Like a vast radiating atomic blast, more and more people around her, then further and further away, were laying down their arms. The battle of wills became a somber mass whereby everyone —including police— realized the malevolence they had participated in and escalated. As the crowd dispersed, journalists were reporting on the miraculous event —with more questions than answers.

As she was packing a few humble belongings into a backpack, Sarah was finally inspired by her gift and vowed to use it to heal humanity. Hugging worried family and friends at the airport, she boarded the plane to her destiny…

Sarah was heading for the ultimate test of her powers. With all her faculties intact, soul naked, her compassion became a physical force as she headed heart first toward the Jihadist battlefields.

 

 


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QUOTES

"There is no such
thing as perfection. 
Each step is a step
towards the next step."
~C.F.

 

Thankyou to my lovely,
smart sister Susan Fisch
for helping to edit my writings
in both English & French.
She does a great job.

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