And thanks to two kind people from the FFML (the Wanderer, and Lunaludus Scribex, who joined the forums to send it to me), where I posted a similar query earlier tonight, I have it, and it's scary how much and how correctly I remembered it:
Subject: [FFML] [fanfic][SM] Who will read the sutras?
Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2001 13:15:20 -0400
From: Allyn Yonge <ayonge@yahoo.com>
To: ffml@anifics.com
The characters of Sailormoon are the
creation and possession of the brilliant Takeuchi
Naoko. They belong to Takeuchi Naoko, Bandai, Toei
Animation, DIC, and all others associated with rights.
No copyright infringement is intended.
******************************************************
Who will read the sutras?
Another day and they would have crossed the border
into Tajikistan. From there, a plane would carry them to the
Sudan. They had just started the evening meal----the smell of
mutton and green tea still filled the air---- when they appeared.
Women . . .young girls, their faces and legs bared in a
way that was an affront to God, had materialized in a flash of
light that stunned his followers. In the next instant, fire had
burst from the naked rock and surrounded them in a ring of
flame. His fierce hawk-like eyes glared at his captors through
the shimmering air and he bared his teeth in a grimace of hate
that was visible even through his thick beard.
"I'm sorry we interrupted your dinner," the one
dressed in blue said in cool tones, as if addressing a chance
acquaintance on the street. "but it took a while to find you and
I was afraid we might lose you, once you got to Sudan."
He started at that. No one, not even the pilot that was
meeting them, knew their ultimate destination. It might just be
a lucky guess, but----
"What do you want?" They always wanted something,
chattering and bartering like tradesmen, intent only on worldly
goods and seducing his people from God's path.
She smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in the
expression.
"What do we want?" She tilted her head, like a curious
bird examining a bug. "Well . . .some of us wanted to flay you
alive, roll you in pork-fat and feed you to wild pigs."
Thunder rolled across the mountain peaks and a bolt of
lighting slashed from the clear sky to smash a mountain peak
into rubble. A golden beam flashed and the tons broken rock
vaporized.
" . . .but the extremists were holding out for something
more . . .creative."
"Do you think I am afraid to die?" He speared her
with a cold look. "This is Jihad. We are committed to God's
war."
*Do not kill an old man, a woman nor a child.* She
quoted softly.
"Do not dare to bandy words ," he spat, rising to his
feet. "You are the enemies of God and I am his sword."
*One who does not show mercy to people will be
excluded from the mercy of Allah.* She riposted softly, and he
realized with a start that she was quoting the Prophet in
his native tongue.
*Kill me then,* he answered, switching from English,
*but another will take my place, and another. Until your
empire of the devil is destroyed.*
*Crystal, actually,* she corrected, ignoring the look of
confusion that crossed his face. *and we're not going to make
a martyr of you.*
A golden-blond girl shifted restlessly at that and a big
brunet clenched her fists angrily, while a striking girl, dressed
in red, took a step forward and the fire blazed higher.
*_She_ wouldn't like it.* The girl in blue eyed him
cooly. *Besides, half the world wants your head on a pike. We
just found you first.*
The fire subsided slightly, and the girl in red resumed
her place, but continued to watch him, as a wolf watches a
rabbit.
*If you are not going to kill me, then why are you
here?* He should have known God would not let him die. Soft
and corrupt, the Western devils were helpless against the
Faithful.
*To tell you that you've lost.* She said this with such
conviction that he took a step back, and she did smile then. A
genuine smile. *We're going to rebuild, bigger and better than
ever. We're going to have a palace of lights and music and
laughter. There are going to be churches, mosques and
shopping malls. We're going to build hospitals, universities
and cities in space and----* She stepped through the flames as
if they weren't there, *_everyone_ will be welcome.* Her eyes
met his, mirrors of crystal blue that seemed to reflect all of
eternity, and he was forced to turn away.
He had a sudden vision of a garden of earthly delights,
such as were promised to the Faithful. Only this garden was
open to heathen and unbelievers and he could see the weak
and doubtful falling away from God----
*I'll kill you!* His hands lashed out in a killing blow,
and he stumbled and fell to his knees as he hit empty air.
"You killed her, and you didn't even know who she
was." The girl in blue was somehow beyond the flames again.
"She just wanted to take a picture from the tallest building, to
show----" her voice broke for a moment, and he felt a stab of
pleasure that he'd managed to hurt her.
"She was a little clumsy and cried too much and never
studied, but we loved her." She turned her back on him and
walked to join her companions. The fire died down as they
joined hands.
*I'm glad she's dead!* He didn't know who 'she' was,
but it didn't matter. He snatched a rifle from the ground and
raised it to his shoulder. *It was God's will that they die.* He
triggered a burst, and the stream of lead flashed into
nothingness against a sphere of coloured light. *I am a warrior
for God!*
*The best type of Jihad is a truthful word before an
unjust ruler.* She quoted, and her voice seemed to come
across a great distance as they faded from view. "I would be
interested in hearing you explain yourself to God."
He beat his fist against his thigh in frustration as they
vanished, untouched by his rifle-fire, then turned to kick his
followers from their stupor. They had just started to move
when the first Tomahawk missiles popped over the mountain
tops and rained down on the camp. American, German and
Russian fighters were close on their heels, escorting four
squadrons of attack helicopters.
The waiting plane carried only a single battered and
bleeding passenger to the Sudan.
There would be four more years of running and hiding
before a retired high-school French teacher, on her first trip
abroad, would give him an opportunity to explain himself to
God; when she ran a red-light just as he was crossing a Paris
street on his way to a safe-house.
****
"Take my hand." The tiny girl with an absurd hair
style reached for the man writhing under a crushing pile of
broken steel and masonry, as burning jet-fuel seared his flesh.
Shrieking in agony, he shrank from her touch as if it burned
more than the flames. "I'll help you, but you have to take my
hand."
"He can't hear you," a tall figure, robed in purest
white, appeared beside the girl. "Or _won't_ hear you," he
corrected himself. "He has to open his heart first, and he'd
rather burn."
"I can't just leave him," came the frustrated protest.
"any of them."
"He would," the radiant man, commented mildly.
"Why are you still here?" He turned her to face him, creating
a cool, quiet place amidst the shrieks of tormented souls and
the heat of burning metal. "You're scheduled for rebirth, you
know. Or you could even leave the wheel-of-life-and-death
and rejoin----"
"Oh, Michael," she stretched up on tip-toe and kissed
him on the cheek. Leaving his protection she re-entered the
fire, which seemed to draw away from her as if afraid. "If I
left, they'd be all alone." She looked sadly at the shrieking
figures that stretched endlessly to the horizon.
Pulling a book from the pocket of her skirt she sat on a
burning stone and turned to a page she'd marked. She began to
read, and where her gentle voice reached, the flames had no
power.
* In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.
. . .show them kindness and deal with them justly;
surely Allah loves the doers of justice . . .*
******************************************************
A man once asked a Zen master:
"Where will you go when you die?"
"I will go to hell."
"But master, you are a man of great goodness and
wisdom. Why would you go to hell?"
"If I don't go to hell to teach you, who will?"
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Subject: [FFML] [fanfic][SM] Who will read the sutras?
Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2001 13:15:20 -0400
From: Allyn Yonge <ayonge@yahoo.com>
To: ffml@anifics.com
The characters of Sailormoon are the
creation and possession of the brilliant Takeuchi
Naoko. They belong to Takeuchi Naoko, Bandai, Toei
Animation, DIC, and all others associated with rights.
No copyright infringement is intended.
******************************************************
Who will read the sutras?
Another day and they would have crossed the border
into Tajikistan. From there, a plane would carry them to the
Sudan. They had just started the evening meal----the smell of
mutton and green tea still filled the air---- when they appeared.
Women . . .young girls, their faces and legs bared in a
way that was an affront to God, had materialized in a flash of
light that stunned his followers. In the next instant, fire had
burst from the naked rock and surrounded them in a ring of
flame. His fierce hawk-like eyes glared at his captors through
the shimmering air and he bared his teeth in a grimace of hate
that was visible even through his thick beard.
"I'm sorry we interrupted your dinner," the one
dressed in blue said in cool tones, as if addressing a chance
acquaintance on the street. "but it took a while to find you and
I was afraid we might lose you, once you got to Sudan."
He started at that. No one, not even the pilot that was
meeting them, knew their ultimate destination. It might just be
a lucky guess, but----
"What do you want?" They always wanted something,
chattering and bartering like tradesmen, intent only on worldly
goods and seducing his people from God's path.
She smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in the
expression.
"What do we want?" She tilted her head, like a curious
bird examining a bug. "Well . . .some of us wanted to flay you
alive, roll you in pork-fat and feed you to wild pigs."
Thunder rolled across the mountain peaks and a bolt of
lighting slashed from the clear sky to smash a mountain peak
into rubble. A golden beam flashed and the tons broken rock
vaporized.
" . . .but the extremists were holding out for something
more . . .creative."
"Do you think I am afraid to die?" He speared her
with a cold look. "This is Jihad. We are committed to God's
war."
*Do not kill an old man, a woman nor a child.* She
quoted softly.
"Do not dare to bandy words ," he spat, rising to his
feet. "You are the enemies of God and I am his sword."
*One who does not show mercy to people will be
excluded from the mercy of Allah.* She riposted softly, and he
realized with a start that she was quoting the Prophet in
his native tongue.
*Kill me then,* he answered, switching from English,
*but another will take my place, and another. Until your
empire of the devil is destroyed.*
*Crystal, actually,* she corrected, ignoring the look of
confusion that crossed his face. *and we're not going to make
a martyr of you.*
A golden-blond girl shifted restlessly at that and a big
brunet clenched her fists angrily, while a striking girl, dressed
in red, took a step forward and the fire blazed higher.
*_She_ wouldn't like it.* The girl in blue eyed him
cooly. *Besides, half the world wants your head on a pike. We
just found you first.*
The fire subsided slightly, and the girl in red resumed
her place, but continued to watch him, as a wolf watches a
rabbit.
*If you are not going to kill me, then why are you
here?* He should have known God would not let him die. Soft
and corrupt, the Western devils were helpless against the
Faithful.
*To tell you that you've lost.* She said this with such
conviction that he took a step back, and she did smile then. A
genuine smile. *We're going to rebuild, bigger and better than
ever. We're going to have a palace of lights and music and
laughter. There are going to be churches, mosques and
shopping malls. We're going to build hospitals, universities
and cities in space and----* She stepped through the flames as
if they weren't there, *_everyone_ will be welcome.* Her eyes
met his, mirrors of crystal blue that seemed to reflect all of
eternity, and he was forced to turn away.
He had a sudden vision of a garden of earthly delights,
such as were promised to the Faithful. Only this garden was
open to heathen and unbelievers and he could see the weak
and doubtful falling away from God----
*I'll kill you!* His hands lashed out in a killing blow,
and he stumbled and fell to his knees as he hit empty air.
"You killed her, and you didn't even know who she
was." The girl in blue was somehow beyond the flames again.
"She just wanted to take a picture from the tallest building, to
show----" her voice broke for a moment, and he felt a stab of
pleasure that he'd managed to hurt her.
"She was a little clumsy and cried too much and never
studied, but we loved her." She turned her back on him and
walked to join her companions. The fire died down as they
joined hands.
*I'm glad she's dead!* He didn't know who 'she' was,
but it didn't matter. He snatched a rifle from the ground and
raised it to his shoulder. *It was God's will that they die.* He
triggered a burst, and the stream of lead flashed into
nothingness against a sphere of coloured light. *I am a warrior
for God!*
*The best type of Jihad is a truthful word before an
unjust ruler.* She quoted, and her voice seemed to come
across a great distance as they faded from view. "I would be
interested in hearing you explain yourself to God."
He beat his fist against his thigh in frustration as they
vanished, untouched by his rifle-fire, then turned to kick his
followers from their stupor. They had just started to move
when the first Tomahawk missiles popped over the mountain
tops and rained down on the camp. American, German and
Russian fighters were close on their heels, escorting four
squadrons of attack helicopters.
The waiting plane carried only a single battered and
bleeding passenger to the Sudan.
There would be four more years of running and hiding
before a retired high-school French teacher, on her first trip
abroad, would give him an opportunity to explain himself to
God; when she ran a red-light just as he was crossing a Paris
street on his way to a safe-house.
****
"Take my hand." The tiny girl with an absurd hair
style reached for the man writhing under a crushing pile of
broken steel and masonry, as burning jet-fuel seared his flesh.
Shrieking in agony, he shrank from her touch as if it burned
more than the flames. "I'll help you, but you have to take my
hand."
"He can't hear you," a tall figure, robed in purest
white, appeared beside the girl. "Or _won't_ hear you," he
corrected himself. "He has to open his heart first, and he'd
rather burn."
"I can't just leave him," came the frustrated protest.
"any of them."
"He would," the radiant man, commented mildly.
"Why are you still here?" He turned her to face him, creating
a cool, quiet place amidst the shrieks of tormented souls and
the heat of burning metal. "You're scheduled for rebirth, you
know. Or you could even leave the wheel-of-life-and-death
and rejoin----"
"Oh, Michael," she stretched up on tip-toe and kissed
him on the cheek. Leaving his protection she re-entered the
fire, which seemed to draw away from her as if afraid. "If I
left, they'd be all alone." She looked sadly at the shrieking
figures that stretched endlessly to the horizon.
Pulling a book from the pocket of her skirt she sat on a
burning stone and turned to a page she'd marked. She began to
read, and where her gentle voice reached, the flames had no
power.
* In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.
. . .show them kindness and deal with them justly;
surely Allah loves the doers of justice . . .*
******************************************************
A man once asked a Zen master:
"Where will you go when you die?"
"I will go to hell."
"But master, you are a man of great goodness and
wisdom. Why would you go to hell?"
"If I don't go to hell to teach you, who will?"
.---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
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| Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject |
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-- Bob
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh, Clark Kent, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber. I have been
called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh, Clark Kent, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber. I have been
called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....