The End; The Beginning.

March 7, 2012

The end has been and gone. This is a new beginning, a new world order. God took up all those He loved on golden vessels across a sea of light to the Promised Land. You were the forgotten, the rejected, the abandoned and now you’re mine.

Funny how you used science for years to deny God and the promises of the end and then, when your scientists began to warn you of the same end, you turned your back on them too; you laughed at them, you called them hacks, you cursed them for wasting their time on such frivolities.

Then, when it came, you continue to disbelieve. Even as the seas set alight and the skies turned black with smoke, as fire rained from above and charred the land beneath your feet, you denied. As the animals started dying and the air you breathed soured, still you denied. You denied and I rejoiced.

Through all of the warnings, through all of the signs, through all of the prophecies you denied and now you are mine. Your God has foresaken you. You denied until denial was no longer an option and then it was too late. He gave you to me and now you are my children, my flock.

The world you once took for granted, the world I fought so long to sieze, now rests in my hands; it has been deserted by all that was good and pure and now, there is only me. There is only me and the terror I command.

While you lived under the Light of God, He protected you. He made this world good for you. He made life precious, a privilege but you refused to believe. Now, finally, this world is mine to ruin and you are mine to toy with.

Thank you for your arrogance. Thank you for your hubris. Lambs to the wolf you were and like lambs, I coaxed you away from His fold, from the only chance you had. Like children, I corrupted you and you didn’t even know it. Now, breathe. Breathe deeply. Open your lungs and let the poison in.

a story about growth

February 27, 2012

Once, a raindrop met the sea. They created an absolute unison, combining as one.

From that very point of perfect convergence, a ripple was formed that held them both.

That ripple spread and spread, becoming wider and wider until eventually, it encompassed the whole world.

The ripple continued on, compelled to move forward, and on and on until finally, after traveling the whole world, and growing big enough to take it all in, the ripple found itself and became a single point once more.

Darkness and Bliss

February 26, 2012

He walked on, not knowing where to but then not sure either where from.

Everything was hazy these days. Memories came and went, the going much quicker and far more permanent than the coming. His mind had become an old museum that only opened on special occasions and from which the curator had long since retired so that there remained no order to the contents. Occasionally, he would have moments of complete clarity and it was then that he felt the saddest.

As nostalgia flooded his mind and his vibrant past descended upon him with all of the abruptness and colour of a surprise party, the only thing he could focus on was the knowledge that soon it would all fade away again and he would be plunged back into the darkness of amnesia.

With the glorious memories of his youth and prime came vivid reruns of more recent days; he was taken back to days when the fog had been low and heavy and he hadn’t known who he was or where he was or when he was. He remembered the day he shouted at his daughter because he didn’t know who she was or when he had held the nurse’s hand with deep affection because he thought she was his wife or where he had put the money that he had vehemently accused the woman in the next room of stealing.

These were times he would gladly forget but now it was all or nothing; he couldn’t have the good times without being exposed to the bad. These moments of clarity seemed to be moving farther and farther apart and a growing piece of him was grateful of this.

He sat, often alone, through his ice cold Winter enduring these flashes of his former self, hurt by the knowledge of what he had been and what he had become and he would welcome with relief the bliss of amnesia.

Traffic

November 3, 2011

Always traffic and this damned heat.

She sat beside him, in the passenger seat, silent. She was always silent in the car.

It had been five minutes since they had last moved and he had sat there for five minutes in a strange and awkward limbo.

Though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but assess her silence.

Was she silent because she didn’t want to speak to him?

Was she silent because she was waiting for him to speak first?

Was she silent because she was thinking the same?

He sat there, frozen by his own over-analysis, wanting to speak and not wanting to both at the same time and speculating about the possible outcomes of each. Schrodinger’s car journey.

Finally, after another two or three or maybe a hundred minutes, he opened his mouth to speak. Then, feeling an overwhelming dryness like drowning but in open air, he closed his mouth again and struggled to swallow.

Now he was terrified that she might have noticed. Perhaps she was sat there now, disgusted either at his cowardice or else at his daring to break the silence between them.

He had no idea and he had to know. But he couldn’t look. His eyes were fixed on the unmoving car in front and vaguely on the long line stretching out ahead. His neck began to ache from fighting the urge to turn and his eyes almost took it upon themselves to glance across or check the mirror to see what they could see.

The longer this went on, the more unnatural it felt. The silence was normal – she was always silent in the car – but surely she’d notice his artificial stiffness eventually.

His face began to prickle, sting, burn and he was sure it must be turning red. He felt like he had to do something and at the same time, like he had to fight even harder to remain distant. It was killing him.

The car was so hot from the summer sun and his broken air-conditioner that the heat began to feel like a solid presence in the car with them, between them. It was stifling him and he felt sure it must be the same for her.

Finally, some way out ahead, he saw the line break and movement began to ripple towards him the way waves travel along a length of rope when you whip it at one end.

The car in front started to roll forward and at long last, he released the hand-brake, slowly reduced pressure on the clutch pedal and placed his other foot back on the accelerator.

The car began to vibrate and, as they moved for the first time in too long,without a word he felt her hand gently rest on his knee.

Isaiah

November 3, 2011

Isaiah was named after a prophet. His parents had mentioned it to him once or twice and he met the occasional Jew or Christian who knew enough to ask, “Like the prophet?”
If there were any special implications or attributes to his being named after a prophet, he did not know. Iasiah knew nothing of his namesake’s story, just as the original Isaiah knew nothing of this one’s.
Other than his biblical name, Isaiah was not in anyway ‘of the book’, though he had been brought up to be morally sound; he was honest and caring, charitable and hard working. He respected those older than him or in authority and always behaved the perfect gentleman when around ladies.
Unfortunately, this didn’t grant him as much luck with the ladies as he might have thought. Apparently, those idle quotes about ‘bad guys’ were rather true. Nevertheless, he was with a lady tonight.