Solomon and the Seventy-Two Terrorists : The 56th
The sermon was boring as ever that day. I would have had a normal boring day if I hadn't been so sleepy.
"We all know that our god loves all of us," the gospelpush said for the fifth time.
Being sleepy, I unconsciously replied in a sarcastic tone, "how do you know?"
All eyes turned to look at a crazy girl who probably has social maladaptation problem. My father gave me a furious glance. I could easily see how mad he was.
"We must not question the god, young girl," said the gospelpusher in fancy clothes. He smiled at me and my father. "You'll understand soon," he added.
Do not question. That was the least thing I wanted to hear. So the next thing I said was, "then we'll all be fools. So foolish that we won't be able to tell truth from falsehood."
"Enough! Enough, Ximena." My father grabbed my throat tightly. Mother screamed, he didn't hear her. "Apologize!" he shouted.
I choked and my father finally let me go. I was going to tell him that all I did was just asking a simple question. But my throat hurt so I had to give up.
My father was a muslim, but converted and became a christian after he met my mother in spain. He was never such a kind person. But at least until the apocalypse, he didn't beat up his daughter just because she asked a rude question to the gospelpusher. He wasn't a fanatic either. The thing called the first apocalypse changed everything.
"Father, what is the problem with you? You are mad, you are acting like a fanatic!" I shouted back at him.
The gospelpusher let out a small ahem and my father, in shame, grabbed me and left the chapel. Mother didn't join us.
Outside, I could figure out what was coming for me. I shouted for help. There was a lot of pedestrians, but no one gave a glance to me. Just as the second blow hit me, I heard a man's voice.
Gasping for breath, a man about thirty stopped my father. "Excuse me! There, you two," he called out.
"Go your way, this is a personal family thing," my father growled.
"Whoa, whoa, calm down sir. But if you need a personal time with your daughter, you shouldn't be in a public place."
Father sneered at him, and said, "who cares? What are you, homeless? Is this your bed?" he kicked a dirty bench nearby.
The man looked nothing like a homeless, or a street robber. Tall, but not too tall, looked shaggy but tidy.
"Actually, no. I'm a doctor, and a Christian. I see this girl is quite hurt?"
"None of your business," said my father. But he stopped beating me anyway.
The man winked at me. "Then, take this. Ximena right? It's my card. Solomon, me. Now I guess I have to go, it's sermon time. Ah, but one last word. Remember that god is everywhere, sir!" he walked away after that.
My father tore the card he gave me. "He's probably a quack. And you, go home and stay in your room," he told me. I stayed silent.
Solomon, his name didn't leave my head for a long time. His face was new but familiar. The next day, I would go to the church as a school. I wondered if I could see Solomon again.
The next day came. I couldn't sleep a bit so I was planning to sleep at my boring classroom. But actually, inside, I wanted meet Solomon again. I wanted to ask him why he had helped me the day before.
Instead of Solomon, I met someone else. A person that changed my life the most.
"Hey, I liked your little speech yesterday. I'm Ipos," a boy who introduced himself as Ipos sat down at my side, and talked about the weather that day.
"Your name is Jeon something. Korean, right? Didn't know you are such a talker. And for that little speech you liked, see this?" I showed him the bruise I got for my behavior. "I would be grateful if you have a time machine," I said.
Ipos laughed in a awkward tone. "Ha, ha..., funny. But I do have a way to change your life, wanna hear? And just call me Ipos," he said.
He sounded like a pseudo to me. But still I let him talk about the world without any fake gods. He said something about the seventy-five demons in the bible. Now that topic interested me. Solomon and The Seventy-Five Demons. Beal, Agares..., and many strange names. I didn't care about the demon's name, even though we had a test about it. The only word that I cared is Solomon, the person I had met.
Ipos talked more. He told me many people thought my word yesterday was amusing. Especially the one he called boss.
I decided to end the meaningless talk. "So the person called your boss wants me meet me? Sorry, don't have interest in pseudo religion," I said.
"Ximena, my boss Solomon needs you to be the fifty-sixth."
The name pinched me, but this time I calmed myself. Solomon is a common name, and the man I saw the day before didn't look like a boss of something.
Ipos just went on, not caring that I was ignoring him. "Believe me, Solomon is a brilliant person. He's a hero, I mean, he will be a hero. I understand that you're not interested much. But you are in his vision, and you will be in it. Because Solomon always sticks to his plans," he said.
I figured out a perfect line for him. "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or the water below, remember? The second one, it was in last year's final exam," I said.
"Fine, fine. Anyway, take this. Solomon's card. See the address? Oh and don't leave this on the floor or somewhere. It doesn't feel so great when I clean it up," said Ipos. And he stayed quite during class. Which happened to be one about the wisest king Solomon. Maybe that's why I followed the address the very day.