the Season of Leo - 1. the Season of Leo

The Season of Leo

It was the season of Leo: that hot, blasted part of high summer that makes the world pant for breath. The last week of July and the first three weeks of August, it is a season of fire.

The last of the summer, it blazes and rages especially hot here in the south. The well-heeled often take vacations to escape the heat but that was never our way for we are children of the Son and ours is not a life of leisure.

This is forbidden knowledge. We are not to speak of it but we are taught it so that we will know Satan’s wiles and traps. I remembered it because my birthday falls in that time, not that I hold any faith in the trickster astrologers.

Tricksters they were of old— claiming signs and portents in the stars so vague that they could mean anything. If a king asked his astronomer if he would have a good year, he would say something like these are perilous times and you must seek and rule with wisdom.

The answer is circular of course. If there is to be a good or bad year, it all depends upon the king’s wisdom. I think if I were a monarch and received that sort of advice my first order would be to behead the astrologer.

It is just another sort of lie of course contained in the pack of lies astrology really is. They say people that are born under the signs share certain attributes of character. One born in the season of Leo is supposed to be leonine: brave, strong, driven to be loved and admired and a natural leader.

I know that it is a lie because I am none of those things. I am cowardly, weak and only wish not be noticed. I do not say what I really think because I have felt the pain of our Prophet’s whip. If I were to say what I think, I would surely be denounced.

What I believe is a sign of my own arrogance, self-deceit and weakness of character for I no longer believe. Not in the Prophet who I see as one of the tricksters like the astrologers of old. Not in the way of the Prophet which is so rife with contradictions. Certainly not that the Son speaks to the Prophet for the Son is a gentle spirit and our Prophet is filled with wrath.

The day starts before dawn. Working in the fields, one must start early in this season. The heat is not merely uncomfortable. It can kill. We work from dawn until noon at which time we retreat from the blast.

In the afternoon we work in our factory building different things to sell to support the ministry of the Son. Sometimes we are too hot to eat, other times too tired and sometimes too sick. It is a time of misery this season of Leo— perhaps a portent of perdition.

We see things inexplicable like the soldiers called the Hands of the Prophet. For their purpose they carry fierce looking black rifles and cruel clubs that shock. They enforce the Prophet’s will and protect us from the deprecations of outsiders and infidels. If a child of the Son is so lost to reason that he would attempt to leave, he is seized by the Hand of the Prophet and returned to the flock after remedial counseling.

The Prophet is holy so he may do as he wills and, his will is to make as many children as possible with all of the women and older girls. He calls it a sacrament but it is merely another one of his conceits.

Slowly with time it has grown on my heart that the Prophet has forgotten the Son or, more likely, the Son has forsaken the Prophet. Though no one speaks of it, there is discontent and I yearn for the freedom to find my own fellowship with the Son without the intercessions of the Prophet.

Each day I toil in the fields, I watch out of the corner of my eye, the fence line, the Hands of the Prophet and where I might find freedom. Also each day, I keep my head down and pay close attention to my duties. I stay silently pious and dutiful to cause no doubt in my fidelity. I pray for the courage of the lion to act when the opportunity presents itself.

That day presented itself when many police and government men came. It is as the Prophet predicted: the agents of Satan will someday act and come here to sew discord.

They came while we were in the fields one day in the season of Leo. The heat was lying on the morning hot and wet like a damp blanket.

They yelled search warrant and the Hands of the Prophet were required to allow them in. They searched inside the Prophet’s private dwelling and removed many bags and boxes of unknown items. During the noon meal they took the Prophet away in handcuffs.

Then they spoke to each one of us alone. They asked many questions. Some of the sons answered, others remained silent. I answered.

The last question that they asked was, do you want to stay here?

It was the lion inside me that said no and I was finally free.