Once upon a time, there was a village who unknowingly slept under the spell of enchantment that poured through a Box. Powerful magicians prayed before the Luminosity, a group of proclaimed elite, whom thought themselves better and of right, to receive the incantations through which the boxes cast spells and brought the Villagers to slumber...
... Of child games did the protocols of the Box did make, violence and horrors of which had not been seen. Asleep was the wisdom of the Guardian-elders. With spite did the people of young age now play. In sorrow, the plague of Low-thought swept thus through the heart of the young, for wisdom they saw not, did thus the games make.
Food treats once reserved for special occasions now found prominence through the Box as the ordinary of meals. Drink of Great-sweet did favor the youth. Time was of haste and food was so too. Little of the Life-spark did it provide. Elders bothered not to act of the Wise-counsel. Villagers grew tired with more quickness and rarely walked from one place to another. Clothing grew larger as health seemed less so. Potions, said the box, would bring here a cure. Soon the memory of Self-healing faded away and food of the Life-spark was no more.
Music that once inspired beauty and grace of the Divine now dawned sex, violence and demeaned life's gift, through exciting negativity. Sports, which once stood for valor and courage, sank to the debasement of violence and brutality for fun and game. Story telling of the Hero was turned toward gossip about murders, people of lowly intellect, grabbers who purchased petty items of the desperate, those who hurt and killed animals for talent, people who took from the forest and earth, those who acted from crimes and now lived in jails, stories of demons and the horrific, and most heartbreaking, the exploitation of children who were made to look as Doll-adults on parade. Soon, the Villagers saw not with love and took with lust, all that they could.
The Forces, which once served the safety of families, homes, food, water and the other necessary resources of the village, were now turned, through the Luminosity and Box, into an instrument of destruction that placed justified pillage over the land and resources held by all Others. Few would ever know of the great profits to which the Forces made for the Armor, a special branch of the wizards and witches, to which made charter to enslave in secret and through brute, the controlling of Villager Group-thoughts and their talents.
Hope of a Better-morrow rarely spoke from the lips of Villagers. The Box left little time for dreaming and made sure the world, as it so told, seemed a most frightening place. The Spirit of Light, which once brought loving flame to the hearts of Villagers, had now dimmed.
Talents, the exchange of the day, poured into the purses of the Luminosity, the magicians, wizards and witches. By now it was known that the greater the distress of the village, the greater potions of which would demand "the Idiots." The Box had successfully defined a new world that removed love from the heart, and shackled the spirit toward a longing for freedom and a Low-will that made of ease, the surrender of all talents.
Gone were the days of life celebrated. Gone were the days of All for One and One for All. The Box made clear which sides to take and which not to take. The glistening light that once had shown so brightly through the eyes of all Villagers, faded away. Little was spoken of the Better-morrow. Potions were in greater and greater of demand.
The Luminosity had planned through the protocols and over eons of time about how to enslave the Village-thought, without them of becoming of wiser. They understood that if the Idiots willingly demanded of the excitement protocols, and with glee, gave of their talents in exchange for potion promises then, enslavement would soon result.
Word of the Luminosity and magicians who controlled the protocols came the attention of the Villagers. Simple as it was, as these elite both created and birthed these stories of excitement, so did they fame themselves as do-gooders, truth tellers and keepers of the path toward freedom. Such freedom of which the Box did speak made eager the Villager's pledge to liberty's ever promised trust. Hopeful as was this promise, it mattered not, for the Luminosity would
forever keep from reach the making of Villager's dream come true.
What came from the Box, therefore, was never questioned but by only a few, called Adventurers. The Box, however, paid close attention to give Never-mind to these small few. Adventurers were known, through the Box, to be of unsound mind, fanciful and risk takers with their imaginings. Such knew the Luminosity that few, even the boldest of the Adventurers, would ever bring to public or question the motives of the protocols and potions, for it was known by all that mockery and ridicule would soon there follow from even the closest of peers. The Box made thus a blinding toward Wise-thought and hastened to make redirect of insights toward loving truth.
As with the success of the potions, made market by the wizards and witches, the Luminosity made sure that all food eaten was without Life-spark, especially for babes new born. Soon feeding from the mother's breast was made unfashionable, seen as unsafe and forbidden through the stories of discouragement from the Box. Special potions soon became food and those of young age found lasting ill health.
People of the Force, tired from the exploitive travels on behalf of the Luminosity, returned to empty promises of a bettered life and a caring for the loss of their families. Many suffered the greatest of distresses, were left without limb, walked no more and wondered the streets without home. Villagers, who once looked after such occasioned wanderers, looked now on them with contempt and felt fear for their safety. As the Luminosity held more and more of the Villager's talents, so did the streets fill with the wanderers, who now, like the people of the Force, also scavenged for food and shelter.
Chapter 2 of 3