The Book of Ecclesians

The mark was a sign of sin. Every person was born with it on the back of one hand. Through generations of living, a book was conceived to describe what actions caused the mark to fade, and which caused it to darken.

The holiest became priests who held their bare hands before them, their marks almost invisible. The criminals wore gloves. Too dark, and you were outcast to die in the wilderness.

But the book's rules could be twisted.

No one believed the priests gave me secret commands laced with threats.

No one felt my shame at being forced to commit heinous crimes.

No one spoke to my defense when my hand, black with sin, was raised for all to see in the town square.

The priests looked at me with disgust, and hidden beneath, glee. I met their gaze with hatred. My own family pronounced me excommunicated. Now I walk the wastes.

But someone else would have to take my place. The priests would not stop. Some other soul would be crushed like mine.

And I cannot let that continue.