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The price for all was the price from one, he thought, burying his head in his hands as he knelt in front of the altar. If it was as simple as doing whatever you were already doing, it negated the value of that sacrifice. If what you were doing was killing your neighbor, instead of loving him, that could not be right. It could not. And yet, it felt so good, so easy. But if that was the case, then what was he? What part of God could he be? Was the pastor to another God the part of God? Or had he derailed his intended life when he swore himself to a god that the aliens denied existed (yet)? Were those who suffered intended to be the suffering part of God? Should their suffering only be enhanced? Should exquisite torture chambers be created to make them the perfect suffering parts of God?


Inspiration: More musing on the WorldCon story idea (note to self: see http://penthius.livejournal.com/321684.html).
Story Potential: High
Notes: I've got the alien religion figured, now I just need the crisis of faith, the resolution, and some sort of emotional denouement...then, of course, to write it in a week.
The bell sounded for Matins. Gregory forced himself to look around his cell for the last time. He noticed again how the crack along the wall looked like a sideways mountain range, and the little fluff of straw that the sparrow who made its nest in his window had left behind, the familiar worn wooden lines of the cross above his cot, and the dent in the mattress that had been the bane of his sleep for the last five years, since he was old enough to be moved up from the orphanage when he asked. He bit back a lump in his throat. He would miss it greatly. When he left his cell, the bag with his few worldly possessions over his shoulder, wearing unfamiliar worldly clothing and sturdy boots in place of his sandals, his rosary around his neck, he met Father Petros.

Inspiration: "Requiem Eternam" - Chant, Sarum
Story Potential: High
Notes: I like the idea of a priestly culture where those who are taken in young are forced to go out into the secular world for--oh, I don't know, five years?--before they are allowed to wholly dedicate themselves to a monastic life. And it offers the chance to explore God-in-the-world. Though I'm not sure this strictly would fit into fantasy, but it's certainly not real-world. Hrm. Possibly a problem story.
Hell is the absence of God. That spark of light and hope and decency dies. Summer camp tries to survive. Mused by Phil. See full story notes in "Ideas-At Bat" file.
The chant of calling began, and she felt it pull her towards the altar of the true god. She knew what took place there. A demand would be issued, probably beyond the bounds of reason or probability. Every person felt the call at least once in their lives, some more often. The demand would be harsh and difficult or heartbreaking. One man had been asked to kill his own son. The god had reached out his hand at the last minute to prevent this from occurring, but he might not have. On another occasion, a merchant on a successful journey had been asked to sacrifice the first thing that greeted him on his return. It was his daughter, and nothing had stayed his hand. The broken merchant now wandered through the world telling his tale of woe and warning others to beware the price of success. It was the god's way. Some were sent on quests, some given trials, some told simply that their child would be a great--

Inspiration: Matisyahu
Story Potential: High.
Notes: This would work well as a premise for a series of linked stories, I think. It needs some extra element to make it pop, though.
"Do you believe in God?" The question echoed through the huge cavern. Inside her, a voice said, "Yes." It was a small voice, and easily squashed. "No," she answered, as she knew was safe. Those who believed in God, a god, any god, were not to be trusted. Everybody knew that they were unreliable, that they might interpret the slightest thing as an offense and just go crazy. "Just like everybody else," the small voice inside her said. She squished that feeling, wrapped it up tight, and tucked it away into a distant corner where the mind-seekers wouldn't find it. She'd learned that from her parents before they died. Just like she'd learned that believing in God was not as terrible as all the teachers--

Inspiration: Cube Zero
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Way too easy to skew into a polemic either way, and actually, there's no story here. Just a character/setting set-up.

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