The sanctuary

A short story about an isolated community.

"We don't need them!" The man spat, his glasses shading the rage gleaming in his eyes.

The large group hummed in unison. 

“The government? Phonies!”  A chorus of agreement sounded throughout the room. 

“The police? Balogna!” More ‘yeah’ noises rang out. 

“The Queen? Probably ain't even got blue blood!" This time the statement welcomed a giant applause.

In their world, the man was the most heavenly person to walk the planet. Couldn't do a thing wrong, they would say. The man, though many wouldn't ask, and many didn't want to find out, was Robert Bromley.

Bromley was a gruff man with a ‘large and in charge’ atmosphere surrounding him. He only seemed to wear dark brown suits and sometimes even sported a cowboy hat, if he was feeling fancy. His face was framed with a questionable beard, speckled with grey and hints of ginger, if you dared get close enough that is. He often referred to the bald spot on the back of is his head as 'a patch of heaven’ though many believed he was perhaps just a little self-conscious. Though he was highly regarded, the children couldn't help but laugh every time he got red when his age was brought up. He was always being looked at, yet nobody knew what his eyes looked like. He never took his glasses off.

The crowd worshipped him. Nobody really remembered how or why it began, but they loved him.

“I bet he has lovely eyes!" The teenage girls would giggle, not in school, because they didn't have it, but in their little shared rooms. 

They didn't seem too comfortable, but if you had asked them, they wouldn't have dared say a bad word. It was their parent's choice for them to be there and after a while, they had forgotten how to mind.

 The trouble with forgetting how to think for yourself is that you will listen to anything the higher power tells you to do. Bromley was the expert of convincing people to like him and he knew it. They were charmed by his smiles and his charismatic, almost soothing demeanour. However, his looks didn't really match up to the personality he was trying to convey. This meant he needed an extra spark to get people to listen. He was a smart man, but for him a megaphone seemed to do just fine. 

When he first persuaded people to head to ‘The Sanctuary’ successfully, the people were sure they knew what they were signing up for. They were promised many pleasurable things: No rules, no money, no people to obey. It seemed like heaven. Unfortunately, it's hard to read the small print when you're being spoken to.

“They say we're cowards!” Bromley cried, raising his fist and causing an uproar.

“Well I say,” he licked his lips "NOT!” The cheering became overwhelming.

People sat holding paper with his words on, fanning themselves because of the heat, or possibly because of his powerful words. Children sat unamused on their parents laps feigning interest to avoid a smack on the back of the head. It was almost unbelievable how many people this man had managed to squeeze into the room and how they were willing to sit so close together on scratchy pews So many of his followers stuck around on such a hot day, it was beginning to almost mystify the room.

 One woman stood up and leaned over the man in front of her, waving her sheet around.

“Pardon me,” she whispered before raising her voice, “But I don't understand how we can get away with some of these things!” 

Bromley raised his eyebrows as some of his dearest followers chuckled.

“Oh, my baby. I told y’all already! We got no government here.” 

The woman frowned. “How did you manage to do that?” 

Bromley’s smile dropped almost instantly. Nobody could believe he was being questioned; Especially by a woman. He began to wander over to her, his fans shrinking into their pews as he walked past. 

“You know what you-” he stopped and straightened his jacket. “Little lady." He corrected himself gritting his teeth into a doubtful smile.

 The lady crossed her arms at the nickname but didn't reply.

“Why don't you take a breather outside?”

With one click of his fingers the woman was dragged outside, kicking and screaming as he casually walked back to the front. She uttered words almost ineligible, hissing and spitting at every person she passed. 

All seem sorted until she uttered one word that made Bromley's face complete scrunch up. He turned around with one foul swoop and stared down the whole audience. They couldn't see his eyes but could feel the pure hatred emanating from his whole body.His fists were balled up and he held a sneer that seemed as if it would never leave again.

“You can call us a CULT,” he fumed, saliva flying out his mouth, "But trust me my babies,”

He spun back around and continued his approach to the front. Once at his usual position he curled his fingers around the stand and leant deeply into the microphone. The audience leant forward almost in suspense, desperate to hear his words. A sickening grin unveiled itself among his features as he began to speak again.

"We're a sanctuary."

Author's Note

Did I do paragraphs correctly? Please give me your feedback, as I used to be very good at stories but have gotten worse! Tell me if you liked the story and point out my problems haha!

Reviews

[kheagan]

I thought it was great you had me curious right from the beginning. You write wonderfully! i thought maybe you could have gone for a better finish. But still, it was a great read.