Short Story: Marketing The Cult.

Short Story: Marketing The Cult.

Skerla was please.

The store had been opened for a few years now and business was booming.

Actually, I think you will find I am quite capable of speaking for myself, thank you.

The authorities had already informally questioned Skerla on her business model, though not on her beliefs which were protected from scrutiny by law. Nevertheless, financial gain went hand in hand with the scale of her operation and the exceptional claims she made.

£9.99 for an honest-to-god aura cleansing. You can't see it, but I can, and it's filthy. No wonder you feel blue. Come in, come in. Best ten pounds you'll ever spend. I'll make you feel great. You'll be back again and again.

It was a simple operation and Skerla felt it was an honest one. When she was young, her friend's mother read her tarot and told her to work hard and she could have a happy life. Then the internet came along with its bag of wonders. Messageboards, blogs and Ebay allowed Skerla to begin to bestow herself with self appointed titles and, soon after, people began to follow her teachings.

Women gravitated towards Skerla. She was friendly and confident, attractive but not too pretty. It was women who built Skerla's business; women from all walks of life after a little spirituality. Students, single mums and professionals be they married, single, gay and bi-sexual.

Sandra

Sandra first met Skerla during a bout of some much needed retail therapy.

When I first met Skerla, she seemed so exotic. Pretty, but not too pretty to talk with, if you know what I mean. She wore the kind of clothes I used to wear when I was a five year old girl playing dress up. She thought nothing of wearing angel wings and carrying a decorative magical staff. Her personality was remarkable. So confident in her beliefs. Just the sort of thing I needed especially since my boyfriend had just left me for another woman. Let the bitch have him. He'll probably knock her around too.

Her first meeting with Skerla led quickly to friendship and then to an invitation to come along to a classroom meeting. The first experience of witnessing Skerla in full flow was astonishing to Sandra's depressed mind. The sense of power that came with being told that your trials and tribulations were all part of a wider plan being carried out by forces who claimed authority directly from the swirling of the universe gave many members of the classroom a feeling of hope and belonging that soon life would improve. It had to improve. Surely the universe had something big waiting for them.

Something waiting for him too, I hope.

Maybe a nice bout of the clap from his dirty new girlfriend.

Brittany

Brittany existed in a world of systems.

As a practising criminal defence lawyer, she spent eighty hours every week deep in the systems put together to control human behaviour. Murder, rape, robbery; for Brittany, all of these practises were essentially human expressions as telling as a smile or a gentle weep.

I had a high profile case a few weeks ago. The defendant was sentenced to life without parole. Waste of time defending him really; they practically caught him still stiff inside his victim's cold, lifeless body. For me, though, it wasn't just about persuading him to plead guilty and secure a more lenient sentence. In truth, I just wanted to know why he liked dead bodies so much. I wanted to know what was going on inside him when he choked her. I wanted to know why he waited for his victim's bodies to go cold before he used them. Maybe I should have been a psychologist rather than a lawyer. Then again, people tell their lawyers more than they tell their psychologists. That's what I believe anyway.

Skerla existed at the top of a system entirely moulded by her own personality. A personality cult, you might call it. It was this fact that first brought Brittany to investigate further into the workings of Skerla's business practises, and then which brought her into the classroom; initially she did so only as an undercover investigator - a one woman private detective agency where her only client was her own curiosity.

When Brittany's parents died suddenly it sent her into a spiral of confusion and self doubt.

On one hand, she was forty three years old. A well paid, highly qualified professional.

Yet she felt lost.

Her thoughts were uncomplicated and childlike.

My Mummy and Daddy are dead.

I might be all grown up, but I'm sad because my Mummy and Daddy are dead.

Who can I turn to now when I need support?

Maybe I should ask that woman from the classroom.

. . . Skerla.

Maybe she really does have some answers.

Skerla

I should remember to thank Gaia for my blessings.

Look at me go.

I've got something to say.

And people who want to listen.

What more can you ask for?

Well, other than more followers.

More things to say.

More power to flow through me from the highest source;

I am but a vessel for the will of the universe.

End/Beginning

I hear your pain, Sandra.

Let's meditate on it.

I'm listening, Brittany.

Would a reading help?

No, half price this time of course.

You are in so much pain.

You too, Sara.

And you, Mary.

Angela, Leila, Stacey.

Nichola, Susie, Alexa.

Grace, Ella, Lucy.

Olivia, Charlotte, Megan.

Amellia, Hannah ...