False Gods Part 1: Believe

What would you give in turn for power?

Oct 30, 2023

∙ Paid

The American Performance Artist. AI-generated Image by Freepik

“I believe in America,” Governor Alan Grego declared.

“I believe in the spirit of this country, of all those who have gone before us. I believe in democracy, and those brave souls who are oppressed, the most vulnerable. And I believe in the strength of this great nation! Of The United States of America! And I believe in all of you!”

The applause went up and the people around the press conference shot up out of their seats.

“And yes, I have done terrible things in the past, but I have remedied that with this great gesture of peace.

“I now present to Marvin Robinson, the Medal of Courage for speaking out against all forms of racism and all of its ludicrous ideologies. The people of this great nation will not tolerate such hate. We are against hate!”

Everyone shouted up and applauded with great fervor shouting angrily and cursing. Waving signs We are Against Hate written on them.

Marvin rushed up and shook Alan’s hand as a quick picture was taken and then quickly as rehearsed, he sat back down.

“And I also present to Melanie Nadar, the Woman of the Year award for her courage in battling against the patriarchy in all of its forms. Here it is, Melanie! God bless you.”

The crowd burst with applause as women stood and clapped and cried out of sheer obedience and fear. A fat woman who looked like a man in a wig walking in high heels and wearing clown makeup strutted up to the governor.

She asked if she could make a speech. Alan nervously smiled and then let her have the stage.

“Melanie will share with you her courageous story and please listen and if you don’t agree with him- I mean her, then you’re no better than our enemies of this great country, you’re a bigot and a hater.

“But I must go and will take no questions as I am late already to a meeting. But please give your full attention to Miss Nadar. Thank you!”

The crowd rushed upon him asking him questions. Reporters all scrambled to have a word with Alan Grego and forgot about Melanie, but his army of bodyguards closed in on them. He squeezed through and went his way to the side stage.

Walking off, more reporters and paparazzi came and took photos through the double doors of Alan. Cameras flashed and people clambered for questions.

Alan whispered to his assistant, Christina, “Where is she?”

“She’s right this way, sir.”

The twenty-something-year-old guided him to a long passageway. He and his cabinet along with his bodyguards followed him into the many rooms in the government building away from everyone in search of the desired conference room where he planned to have his secret meeting.

“Is this it?” he asked Christina as they found the door.

“Yessir,” she said nervously. “Just one thing.”

“What is it?” Alan asked impatiently.

“Just don’t look her in the eye.”

“Why not?”

“Because she… well, sometimes… she’s done it before with Rogers, and she… well she leaves a mark.”

“What kind of mark? A birthmark, you mean?”

“Well, no… it’s just,” she said apprehensively.

“You’re paranoid. Come on, Christina, you’re wasting my time,” Alan yelled curtly. “We don’t have all day.” He entered the small room with a woman who stood facing the corner.

Alan was disturbed by the petite woman motionless without regard for him. He cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He cleared his throat again.

“You know you can use words, right?” the young woman snickered. “You would think you’d be more polite. Manners aren’t favorable anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not sorry, Mr. Grego. Why don’t we cut the crap and say how we really feel, huh?”

“Why don’t you-”

“Why don’t I what,” she asked curtly. “You think you have power here? With your nice suit and your fake smile? You have nothing in here, just me and my master.”

Annoyed he cleared his throat again, “I was told you can… do things if that’s how you want to put it. My colleagues have been telling me all about you and your… influence.”

“Your colleague who’s now running for office? Let’s face it, at this rate, you’ll never get there.”

“Why don’t we have a seat and you face me, huh,” he asked sighing nervously.

“I work better this way, statesman.”

He sat down quickly in the swivel chair across from her glaring at her back.

“Fine. Have it whatever way you want, Miss…”

“Wittington, Ivanka Wittington.”

“Miss Wittington. Now, I don’t know who you really are and what exactly you do but I would love…”

Then she turned around and presented a bloody corpse placing it gently on the table. Her black robes and her blue shining eyes glistened in the sunny room. She nonchalantly set the corpse of a mangled man as she slowly prepared his body for burial placing rotting flowers in his hands.

“You were saying?” she smiled wickedly.

Horrified and shocked out of fear. “Who do you think…”

“Does it matter, statesman, If it’s a grown man or a child? No, but that’s what you advocate for. You’re among wolves, Alan, and you’re the pack leader.” She smiled sinisterly.

“This is- What is this, you-”

“Do you still want to proceed with this consultation, Alan?”

“That’s Governor Grego, to you!”

He went to the door, but then he suddenly stopped short. He broke away from the door and hesitated wanting power and success from her. The secrets she held were far more valuable than anything he would ever receive and worth the frightening image.

“Are you the one they call the miracle worker?”

A hideous shriek came out of her filthy mouth.

“Indeed, Alan. But you don’t dictate this meeting, I do. You have no power over me and I’m not afraid of you, little governor. You stand up for… what? Justice? Or votes?”

“Maybe a little of both. Who are you really?” Then turning, he saw the bloody corpse had vanished off the table.

She smiled cruelly, “I can make the ugly disappear, Alan.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a performance artist. That was a gag, wasn’t it?”

“Do you really believe that? We gotta keep up appearances for… select groups who want to destroy what we both worked so very hard for.”

Smiling with an essence of pure evil she sat down finally across from Alan staring blankly at him impatient and restless.

“I don’t understand,” Alan said curiously.

“I’m a forger of little miracles. Miracles for the oppressed. That’s what you advocate for, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, I… I stand up for truth. The American Dream. What do you advocate for?”

“The rich, the famous, the leaders of the free world. I remind them what’s really important.”

“So you’re a… an adviser?”

She laughed amused. “I like you, Alan. You’re among the walking dead, but don’t even know it.”

He looked at her curiously, confused at who she was and her role.

She leaned back in the swivel chair relaxing in it and put her feet up on the large conference table.

“Tell me about these policies that you are pushing for, do they help the public? Do they help the oppressed?”

“Yes, I think so. But I want to first know if you can help me. That’s why I came here today to ask for… your help, Miss Wittington.”

“That’s what I do. I serve the public and help the common good.”

“Great, that’s just great! I knew somebody would help me with the injustices that plague us, you know?”

“Come now, Alan, speak freely. No one’s listening…” She leaned closer hands folded on the white table smiling and waited.

Alan looked towards the door shifting nervously.

“You’re the witch that everyone has been talking about?” he asked quietly looking anxiously towards the door.

To his own ear, he sounded stupid and ignorant. Witches and warlocks, and God and the devil. It was all ridiculous.

“Is that right?”

“Oh, yes, if that’s what you wanna call me. But I go by many names and in the past I went by many aliases and under different titles. Doctor, seeker, sorceress, diviner, necromancer, helper, medium, and my favorite nowadays, performance artist.”

She squealed with delight. “But if you desire my services, there is a price, however.”

“What kind of price? I’ll do anything,” he said desperately.

“Well, what do you desire for me to do?”

His inside burned with greed and control.

“I want to become president. President, goddammit!” He couldn’t wait any longer. His thirst for self-glorification and power distorted his mind and confused his morals.

“OK, OK, governor. That’s fine. Just don’t have an orgasm all over the nice table,” she mocked smiling.

“You shall have what you want. It’s not hard, pretty easy, if you ask me. You must do everything that I command, but again my price is high.”

“Money is not an issue-”

“Money is not what I want. I want something of… yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t work alone, I have a president too. A master in command just like everyone.”

“But if I become president, I won’t be under someone,” he shouted mad with rage.

Ivanka laughed and snorted like a pig.

“Oh, you Westerners always thinking you’re like gods! You have to understand one thing, Alan: You’re nothing. The power that I wield is no trick, but that which comes from below.”

“Stop it with that stupid nonsense! Witches and warlocks were just politicians using it for their platform to gain followers and destroy world religions, but now it’s completely ruined and lost its power. There’s no need anymore. You have to stop with those ridiculous superstitions.”

“Superstitions are not always false,” Miss Wittington continued. “You have to realize that everybody worships something. It all depends on who you worship. Whether it be a god or something else.”

“Whatever, you can speak freely if it makes you feel better,” Alan spat. “You’re the boss, but I know what I believe.”

“What do you believe?”

“In the spirit and soul of America!”

She nodded and grinned slyly. “Very good. So be it. But I desire your child.”

Alan Grego’s eyes grew with rage, “What? Did I hear you correctly? Stop mocking me with your words, you filthy whore!”

Ivanka flew up and sprung across the table hurtling and falling right on top of him as his chair flew violently across the room. She had him pinned with a strong and dark force.

“I will have your children! And I will sacrifice them to the Greek and Roman gods, to all the wicked and terrible idols from of old shedding their blood and spewing it all across my dark altar! Their innards shall be cooked for your own potion and their guts filling my nostrils with its repugnance!

“You filthy little weakling. Pathetic and arrogant, washed in pride and filled with shame. If you want me to help you, then that is my price! Your own two children will be brought to me and as I kill them the devil below will laugh and rejoice!”

Her yellow teeth filled him with dread and terrified him as she chortled in his wrinkly face. Screaming with fury, he struggled to break free from her clutches.

Finally, he flung Ivanka off of him as she hurtled towards the table. Frightened, Alan trembled uncontrollably as he sprung out the door.