AROMA

The never-ending entrails of the eternal electric worm conducted signals that only the blind, mute, and deaf blue priestesses of the old ruined temple on Azurine 34B2030 could interpret and relay to the faithful by means of randomly slapping the faces of those in attendance.

Sometimes they would also kick a few of the eager pilgrims – the most salivant, moaning open-mouthed, begging to be blessed by unfathomable predictions – in the gut.

But only when they didn’t like how that particular supplicant smelled.

Hypocrisy has a very distinct acrid stench.

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©2026 CE  

Pic: Canva