Apostle Lips, NOW! A contest entry from Monica Brinkman


It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel

that it’s time to post somore entries into the First Annual Peggy Dobb’s Write-of-Passage contest. If you are new to the site, you can get a little background and enter our contest by checking this out:


Last entries will be accepted on Thanksgiving.  However, as you read Monica Brinkman’s entry, you might swear it’s too late.

Monica has been a fan and supporter of A Word with You Press from the beginning, and in addition to having exceptional taste in her choice of literary websites, she is also the hostess of It Matters Radio. Do check her out and ask her to friend you on Facebook. You just might end up on the air which is like being in cyberspace but with benefits.  Here is her latest missive to moi.

So good to hear from you. What a tribute to our Peggy. I must try my hand at this one. Maybe one day I’ll win but if not, it is such fun.
Hey, we are holding contests and winners are guests on our show. Just finished reading and selecting the winners for our Halloween Broadcast on Halloween. We also have one running for our Holiday show on December 26th. And, we do have great guests, including musicians each week.
One day you must come on the show to speak about your site, your writings and such.
We are booked through January 2014 but always seeking guests. I have about 40 bands and singers to listen to and get back to, so this is one reason I have not been on the site much. And that is only the musical guests – then we have the others – the authors – celebs – activists and such. I work full time and you can imagine how much time it takes to handle our web-site, create show pages, marketing and also deal with guests and guest requests. Still love you guys and your site.
Take care my friend!
 Monica M. Brinkman
Author, Radio Show Host, Columnist
So visit Monica but remember I saw her first!
Here is her entry into our contest:

Society’s Story

by Monica Brinkman


The man moved the thick dense emerald green drapes to one side and peered out the rain-covered window. He could hear howling wind as each new drop of water crashed against the unforgiving glass pane. The view before him caused great anxiety and heartfelt grief. For the first time in his life, he had no answers. As his eyes scanned the street below, a knot formed in his throat and his eyes moistened. He stepped back, allowing the drape to fall back into place and wiped the wetness from his eyes. His body lurched forward from the force of the bullets littering his chest. The once loved President, lay in a pile on the cold tiled floor, eyes open wide and gasped his last breath.

Jennifer pulled the blanket tighter around the body of her three-month-old daughter in an attempt to shield her from the steady rounds of gunshot coming from every direction. They were enduring and consistent, rather like bursts of firecrackers hitting their mark as bodies fell helpless to the ground. Confused, disoriented she ran into the nearest shop only to be faced with greater threat as she watched several people being stabbed and chopped with shiny daggers so sharp they glistened in the stores incandescent light. Turning back to the street, she felt a sharp pain across the back of her neck and fell to her knees. Jennifer could see the blood dripping down her body, soaking into the pink and blue flowered sleeveless dress, turning it crimson. She instinctively knelt and covered her daughter with her body, unaware the child had taken her last breath long ago when a stray bullet struck her head. Mother and baby became just another fallen victim to the madness that controlled the earth.

Bobby Jones thought back to only two days prior when life was normal, a time before people became consumed with hate so powerful it took over their minds and their senses. He wondered how it had all begun. There were no hints of the devastation to come. Not really, unless you considered the occasional brief media story on radical/hate groups which popped up every so often. How was anyone to know the danger they presented would grow to this level?  He just couldn’t wrap his mind around this newfound existence of surrealism. It amazed and baffled him that they had grown in such large number. From what he could figure, a faction of the far right had merged with the Survivalists, Skinheads and other Anti-Semitic organizations, slowly infiltrating the government, the corporations, the military and attracting a large amount of people who were disillusioned with their country’s policies. It was unfathomable they would ever take over the world, yet this is exactly what they were doing.

He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to survive. He had a stockpile of water and canned goods that might last a few months, except food and water were useless if they found his hiding spot. Just yesterday, he’d seen a bunch of these heathens pull the Walters family out of their underground shelter and riddle them with automatic gunfire. He waited until they had dispersed and ran like hell to the shelter he had built deep within the woods; a place he expected would now become home. Getting down on one knee, he raised his arms, placed his hands together and prayed.

Mike and Larry watched and waited for they knew timing must be precise. There was already too much bloodshed of innocent people and they didn’t want to add to the casualties. It was ‘us against them’ and nobody was going to change this present threat of danger unless people stopped their fear and used their intelligence. Unbeknownst to these killers, a huge part of the population was bonding. They quickly and out of necessity formed their own radical group, aptly referred to as The New Hope. When the powerful became the enemy, a manta was born which The New Hope repeated in time of stress. “I swear, it’s not too late” took the place of prayer and was used to identify their comrades.

As Larry felt the last bit of life ebb from his capture, he realized they could and would win this battle. He nodded at Mike who now held a young rebel female and watched as he pierced her heart and slit her throat. This act, which once would have brought him outrage and shock, now gave him pleasure and anticipation that they would succeed. He envisioned a better world where greed was intolerable and replaced with love, peace and harmony. A smile filled his face as he wiped fresh blood from the knife’s blade against his jeans and headed forward to overcome the next unsuspecting rebel.

Monica M. Brinkman, 2014

Web Site: http://theturnofthekarmicwheel.blogspot.com/



15 thoughts on “Apostle Lips, NOW! A contest entry from Monica Brinkman

  1. Michael Stang says:

    I applaude your thunder as you approach this issue of an all violent end scenario. The discriptive violence is all too real, then again not real enough. I myself think of a sheltered end, not knowing anything but american soil, but your story shackles my thinking. This evil is worldwide, and coming to a town near me.
    Haunting, lofty, amazing writing.

  2. Parisianne Modert says:

    The story hung together while telling the tales of several different people involved. An interesting approach to widening the view of the events for the reader.

  3. Kerry Hall says:

    Oh wow, Monica! Such a dark, dreary vision of the world! I knew these groups existed, but never imagined they would ever reach this level of Monsterous and depraved!! Whew! Thank God and Godesses for brave, intelligent people, but there’s a lesson here that could ring true..that the good people could be just as depraved! Great, if terribly disturbing tale..hope I never see this day

  4. tlrelf says:

    A powerful piece. I like how you wove vignettes together. I was curious how you would “end” it, and this ending definitely demonstrates the cycle.

  5. Diane Cresswell says:

    Ah yes Monica is back and what a tale she has written. The buildup to the end is a pure energy charge. The ending…yes we do become like those that we dislike. Great perception and one that I too hope will not come true.

  6. Tiffany Monique says:

    Stories like these are creepy and sad in the BEST ways… it’s one of the reasons why I love “V for Vendetta”, “Children of Men” and “Cloud Atlas” I guess. The idea of the dystopia that we are creating for our children with unsustainable choices. The death of the child and mother, and then the coming “New Hope” faction vignettes has a weird dichotomy to me. It’s as if these vignettes beg the question “what is hope?”. And again, that this story was submitted in October stings of the darkened hallows of the month that people seem to give in to — the skeletons and ghouls without and within… I touched me in an eerie place, and I appreciate that originality.

  7. Glclark says:

    Point of View – Point of View………… Beautiful! Hell, even a stupid cowboy can understand and feel the power of this great story. My hat’s off to you for this creative, imaginative story and my comment at the ending was a silent, “From your mouth to God’s ear!”

  8. Monica Brinkman says:

    Thank you all who have commented. I appreciate your taking time out of very busy schedules. I love this site. Such great stories and so diverse. I learn more about the written word each time I read each contest entry. Love to you all!

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