No One Can Know! (Revelation: Murderess)

See the love of Jesus in her heart!

Karen slipped nude between the soft silken sheets, retreating in her final resting place safely ensconced in a million-plus, neo-insulated condo. She stared with emptied eyes at the slatted neon lights on the wall as she slid across the universe into a bottomless black hole cut off from eternity, the fate of every successful liar in the world. She wrestled with her desire to be free ("The Enemy"), for she understood well living a lie in a world based on a lie was the conservative right thing to do.

Over the years her life had slowly and relentlessly been consumed to "maintain appearance." At some point there'd be nothing left. Knowing this fed her rage with heart, and keeping rage alive would "save" her - and being saved means never having to look in the mirror. Her caged love bore no fruit for all the world to see, thus her declaring "war" on the "Democrats, liberals, and homeless" she blamed for ruining her life. But time is running out.

"No one can know I'm a fraud. No one must ever know. No one can know..."

She repeats this mantra over and over, as if it would manifest into reality simply by speaking. That was her hope anyway - her last hope.

Her shovel was dirty and bloody, burying her dreams for worldly bribes. She'd been running ever since, putting time if not distance between her and her entitled criminality.

"I am not the person my children know."

"I am not the person my parents know."

"I am not the person my church knows."

"I am not the person my husband knows."

"I am not the person my anyone knows."

I hope I die before I get known.

When she spoke glowing and gratefully of "God", of her mask did she speak. "God can do anything. God makes everything right. Praise be to God!" Many were impressed by the earnestness in her voice.

I narc'd on you to God!

But in these thought-revoked moments, isolated and entrenched, she seethed against the universe that threatens her earthly empire. "I'm entitled to what I have!", of this she could not be dispossessed.

It's true the luxury lifestyle she held she needed to survive. But the demon in the night insisted she need never have deceived to get it; that, in fact, she'd have many multiples over if for having led an honest life; if she'd invested in herself instead.

What will be said of this eternal fool when this comes to light? she wondered, not knowing she was already known.

Looming on the horizon, a hazy figure she cannot make out. Was it him, of the original dream, unburied and undead come to pull her back to reality? A vision of herself clinging to the edges of a tunnel with inward wind, sucking her into its destiny, that she could not hold out forever, and once entered she'd never be the same. This she resisted with all her fury and might. "The Enemy" wanted her to give up, give in, and give way. But she would hold fast to her "faith" in darkness.

Mired in moral poverty, "that damn protester girl" on TV speaking honest words for the world to hear replayed in her ears once more. Just beyond infuriating! Why do they even have to speak to those people? She couldn't remember her words at this point but the feeling - the burning, exploding, out-of-control feeling - this she could not get out of her head. And no matter how many times she entombed the girl she sprang back to life.

"That girl will ruin everything!"

The impulse to murder was overwhelming and irresistible. "Just shut her up! Shut her up now, before it's too late!"

Had she'd seen the red rage in her face in that moment, her political self would have piously claimed, "That's not the real me."

Oh, to come clean and step into the light! To escape the well where screams are never heard as asps slither in for the kill, injecting ugly venom into her veins.

Then an unexpected doorbell echoed through the condo.

"It's him!" she hissed. "I know it! Back after all these years to finally expose me!"

In her closet, she grabbed the revolver with the world as her justification. Time to kill that haunting bastard once and for all, daring to uproot the foundation of murdered feelings upon which she'd constructed an empire.

As she approached the reckoning of the front door examination, her footsteps rumbled in Heaven as boots of lead. No more tortured wondering of who she is! She'll shoot this demon once and for all: possession correction. To prove herself as one of "objectivity" she first spied through the peephole. Sure enough, she saw the outline of a predatory male.

It is him. Let him feel my fury at last! I'm sick of it, SICK OF IT!

She threw open the door in high accusation, standing in a pool of disdain.

"No! No! Never! Never! I've got a good act going and you're not going to ruin it!" Then she shot him six times dead.

"I'm always a victim!"

Epilogue: "WOMAN SHOOTS UTILITY WORKER WARNING OF GAS HAZARD IN BUILDING"

Post Script:

"Is it true God cannot see what we do in the dark?"

"Yes," replied the angel, "that is true."

"Ha!" she scoffed in justification. Then it hit her.

"So what exactly, then, does God know?"

"God knows you're not in the light."