Love’s Victory

Love’s Victory is my first story written for submission. It was written be me, and edited by my wife, Cat De Lune. It was inspired by the infamous cult “Love has Won”. Love’s Victory is the first in a series of stories where I will take real life stories and apply a supernatural/paranormal angle. An excerpt of Love’s Victory follows:

Arizona was closer than Michael thought. Wendy had loaned him her car, as his wouldn’t have made the trip to Tempe. Michael vaped as he approached to settle his nerves. Simultaneously, he chugged a Monster, so the vape wouldn’t slow him down.

Wendy was super generous with the ride, and the card she lent him for expenses. Of course she was using him. Still, Michael was hopeful. This could lead to his own gigs with Guilt Media. Today, at least, he was an intrepid investigator, not another homeless Black Millennial on the streets of LA.

He going to meet weirdos, and get whatever audio and video he could. I got this. He had spent plenty of time camping at festivals. You met people, did drugs, talked about weird shit. Dealing with crazy just required nodding, smiling, and hugging people that smelled.

Michael thought back to his mom’s church growing up. Salvation Temple, a decrepit house of worship wedged in a strip mall between a laundromat and an abandoned storefront. The gentle, warm smell of detergent and low vibrations of the machines chugging out of the dry cleaners were the only positive association Michael had with the place. The congregation was impoverished, but devout, and the folk in attendance always wore their Sunday best. Michael supposed they kept the dry cleaners in business. They would sing to Jesus and fill collection plates while the band played. It always started out innocently enough. 

Inevitably, the pastor would accuse them all of being unworthy, and the energy in the little church would shift dramatically. The drums would switch to a hypnotic, off-tempo beat, and the pastor would command the sinners to the stage. Slowly, everyone would come forward, and kneel or lay in front of the pulpit. The congregation would wail and utter nonsense syllables. Glossolalia. Michael always felt that they were faking it, but he never asked. 

Church was mandatory while living with his mom, so Michael eventually left home and found his way to LA. With his past behind him, he reinvented himself, even took some college classes.

And what the hell is religion anyway? Michael mused. Sometimes, it was just a scam, but religion could also be a parasite or a virus, infecting its hosts, leaving misery in its wake. Even if Love’s Victory was the latter, he reasoned, he should be fine. Salvation Temple’s weirdos had immunized him from belief in invisible beings. 

Michael parked in front of a small, rundown house. The front door was open, while the screen was closed. He heard voices, and glimpsed Tiffany sitting at the kitchen table. She saw him standing on the doorstep, and gestured to come inside.

“Beautiful Michael! He’s here, everyone!” said Tiffany, pulling Michael in front of her camera. She planted a wet kiss on the cheek. “Look at his energy! Mother is going to love him!”

Smile, Michael thought to himself. Just be cool. Tiny hearts flared over the stream. The viewers liked him. 

“Introductions! Introductions!!!” Tiffany flapped her hands at Michael, pushing him further into the house. Michael met Jacob Free, a shirtless dude with a ponytail and an unsavory vibe; Tully, a short-haired blonde kid with a surprisingly full, long beard; and Vanessa the Truth, a bone-thin brunette with gaunt eyes. Most of them were streaming, except for Jacob, and a psychedelic vibe hung in the air. 

There were ash trays and bongs on every surface. Michael saw a baggie of mushrooms on the coffee table. Jacob was taking healthy bumps from a stash necklace. 

The paraphernalia of Love’s Victory’s supplement business occupied almost every available space. Bright red pills, bottles of mysterious liquids, jars of glistening powders, plants, all with miraculous properties. Vanessa the Truth saw Michael staring, and educated him on some of the items while she packed an order. “This is colloidal silver; it will heal anything, even cancer,” she said, holding up a dark blue bottle with a dropper top. “The Muggles don’t want you to know that it’s a miracle healer because that way you go to their 3D hospitals, eat their drugs, and stay a sheep—a farm animal, chewing their cud.” Vanessa peered at Michael; her eyes, shadowed by huge circles, burned into him. After a moment, Vanessa looked away, and reached for another item. “This is our Galactic Pineal Activator Powder.” She held up a clear glass jar, smaller than a film canister, of shifting, shimmering dust. “Made with Lion’s Mane and the Galactic Dust of the Tcho Tcho People. This is one of our most precious products, as the Dust has to come all the way from another dimension. We are very blessed to carry this item,” Vanessa smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Michael tried to maintain a look of awe-inspired interest as Vanessa showed him various vaguely suspicious substances. He saw the order sheet— $800! They were doing well here. Michael wondered at the state of the house.

Michael donated grocery money (Wendy’s card) and after a few hours, they all munched on vegan stew prepared by Tully. It was delicious; hot, filling, and savory despite the lack of meat, and Michael had third helpings. 

Later that night, Michael was in nearby a 7-11 parking lot. “These people are weird,” Michael said to Wendy on the phone.

“Try to meet Mother, the leader. If you can get pictures, maybe record her. That’ll be what Guilt wants.” 

“Okay, then after I get that footage I’m coming back, ASAP. Fuck these people. The house smells like dog and I didn’t see a dog.”

“You’re doing great, Michael. When this is over, we can get you your own gig. This is a big deal.”

“Can you believe they claimed their shit is from another dimension? Babbling about ‘Cosmics’ like ‘The Black Man’—which sounds low-key racist—energy transfer and extra-dimensional beings. It’s gotta be drugs.”

“They will be exposed, and they won’t rip anybody else off. You’re doing good work.” Wendy said reassuringly.

“I got this,” said Michael, and hung up.