Ezekiel Retrograde

From the Apocryphal Books of Anna

By Brewt

Editors Note: Below is the best majority reconstruction of the contents of a handwritten file found in Unclaimed Safety Deposit Box Auction #240510007BYGH22. The original has since been destroyed; many pages appear to have been lost forever. Of the remaining content, there are no page numbers or dates, and efforts to find the peoples and places referred to have been unfruitful. Scholarly debate continues to rage as to what the file even is; the top three current theories are a confessional letter, a metaphorical prophecy of an unknown apocalypse, and the mindless scribblings of an asylum tenant.

I used to live in my Papi’s mansion on his compound in the middle of the city. Okay, mansion is not quite the right word. More like a palace. It is huge and all the walls are hand-carved, at least the ones not covered in tapestries. And the estate was, like, 50 square miles. There were at least a dozen roads going into it, and it was all incredibly beautiful. There was a stream that is more like a river (you could swim and fish in it), grottos, groves of fruit trees that had fruit year-round, and more outdoor fireplaces than you can count. There were amazing sex parties here, and it was all just the way he wanted it. Everybody understood the message of that place: “I am large and in charge.”

Palace isn’t even a big enough way to describe it.

It was a temple.

Papi had these guys who worked for him. They were known as “The Gospel”, which was a bad joke based on their names. And I never really understood it, because there were five of them. Weren’t there only four Gospels in the Bible? I always thought “The Fingers” would be a better name, because that’s what they looked like. They’re all different heights, and there’s one fat one. One of their very important jobs was to protect me. Whenever we’d go anywhere, one of them would sit and watch the outside while the other four came in with me. They rotated the outside job, and they always argued as to whose turn it was. When people would talk to me, they would say, “Your Papi does look out for you, doesn’t he?”

I worked for my father.

What I did was kinda weird. When Papi wanted something from someone, I got to put on my nicest clothes, and he sent me out to talk to them. The Fingers went in with me, and I delivered a speech Papi had written, and they’d say they’ll give him what he wants. And it worked every time. No one ever said ‘no’, and you might think it was because of the four big guys I had with me, or because of the speeches (most of which I really didn’t understand), or because they were just afraid of Papi.

But I think I know what the real reason was. Me. Because when they said ‘yes’, I was expected to have sex with them. It’s the way Papi wanted it, and I think it was all well understood about the things Papi wanted. And I had to do it with everyone there. Once, we even went to the morgue, which was really scary, and there were a lot of people there, which I thought was odd. But I did it with all of them.

The Fingers got to, too. I might have been part of their pay, and I’m sure that’s why they argued. But they did a good job, and we almost always went out to eat afterwards. Usually, all I could handle was coffee.

I’d never been hurt in any way when we went out. Not a scratch, not an ache or a pain, and everyone was perfectly nice about it and it was all “normal”. Almost like church.

Sometimes, when they thought I couldn’t hear them, they’d call me “The Altar”, which I think is another terrible joke about things that happen in church, but I don’t really understand it.

Does this make me a prostitute?

Sometimes, if they thought things might get rough at the parties, The Fingers had my sister go with us.

She’s not really my sister. More like a half sister.

When a man has sex with someone other than his wife, and they have a child, that child is called a bastard, right? What is it when it’s the woman who does that? That’s what my sister is to me. My Papi is not her Daddy.

My sister grew up in the brothels, and she worked for Papi, too. I think she had a hard job at the brothels, because she always had little bruises on her. When I would ask her about it, she’d laugh and tell me not to be so silly. I think The Fingers would sometimes take her so they could do things they couldn’t do to me.

People would do anything to my sister, even disgusting things, especially when I had my period and they wouldn’t have me.

She was always trying to get people to do things for her, and I could never tell if she was playing a trick on me or not. She even tried to tell me she knew who her real Daddy was, and the things they did together, which I’m sure she was lying about.

My sister was a whore.

Mami was beautiful, with long hair, and her body was perfect; I don’t ever remember her wearing clothes. Papi found her in town at an orphanage, but I think Papi knew who her parents were.

Mami used to have my job. But when she’d go out to get people to do what Papi wanted, she’d give away the jewelry and clothes Papi gave her, on top of having sex with everyone. He’d give her more and more stuff, and she’d just give it away. Sometimes, I think she went out when Papi didn’t send her. I don’t think Papi liked that, especially when she started taking me out with her. She was like my sister; anything went. But Papi wouldn’t let that happen to me, so The Gospel started going out with us, and after a while, Mami started staying home, spending more and more time at the fireplaces on the estate, and it was just me and the Fingers. And sometimes my sister.

And then Papi found out about Mami and my sister. It makes no sense to my why he didn’t know this.

It seems that Mami was always pregnant after that, but she never had another baby. Whenever she’d lose another one, she’d end up at the hospital, and later, after everything had happened, when I would sneak up to see her, she always looked she had been in a car wreck. When I’d ask her how she was, and if she was okay, she’d laugh, and say that her Princess shouldn’t worry.

When Papi found the man who fathered my sister, he had me deliver the message to him in a house down by the river. His name was Timothy, and he just laughed when I read the speech. The Gospel had me leave the room for a while, and when I came back, Timothy was tied up on a wheel. They had me read the speech again, and Timothy just laughed again, and swore a lot. The Fifth Finger pulled me out of the house and took me down to the river, but when he sent me back in later, Timothy was covered in wires. I read the speech the third time, and my voice was shaking – I was so scared. No one had ever done this before to me. I reminded him what he would get if he would do what Papi wanted. He spat at me.

They told me to turn around, and Timothy started screaming and laughing, and the Gospel was swearing at him, and the smell was awful. I could hear them beating on him and buzzing sounds and screamings and the smell got worse and worse, and then it was suddenly quiet. I couldn’t breathe because it smelled so bad.

I ran out and I ran down the road and The Gospel was shouting after me and I had to get away.

By the time I found my sister, I couldn’t talk hardly at all. I never saw her again after that night. The Fingers caught up with me after I left her.

Then terrible things started happening. People were brought onto Papi’s estate and the lucky ones were just executed. The rest were tied down and left there until they starved to death. People would cry at me when I would be brought by them by The Gospel, and The Fingers were cruel to those poor people. Some of them even tried eating the people near them, but they all ended up dying anyway. There were bodies everywhere. And I don’t know if anyone was even left in town.

It was pouring rain outside when Papi called me into his room, and I was too frightened to talk. He tried to tell me to not be afraid, but I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. He called The Gospel in, and told them to take me out to a house at the edge of the estate, and make sure I didn’t leave. Tie me down, if they had to.

It was the house Timothy died in. I started screaming and twisting and fighting them. The lightning crashed, and suddenly I was in the water drifting away and I couldn’t get out and The Fingers were shouting after me, getting quieter and quieter, except for the sound of the rain. By the time I could get out of the river, way far downstream, I had decided.

I would speak for my Father no more.

My name is Anna.

I am thirty years old.