biblical, fantasy, mystery, mythology

A New Life….

“It’s not a new life… It’s the same old one.” His whisper echoed through the silent halls of the cathedral. No matter how many times he shut his eyes, repeated those very words, the world remained unchanged. Yet, despite knowing how fruitless such endeavors were, he continued to delude himself into believing things would change. Each night he visits the same cathedral, sits on the same bench, and awakens after a short rest with those same words. As if one day expecting something different, even if just a subtle alter. It has been so long now that he can not even remember when this ritual, of sorts, began. Only the moments when he awakens, and the sheer disappointment washes over him.

“Again…” He complains after pushing open the cathedral doors and being struck by the freezing torrents of wind from winters eve. Whilst shivering he makes way, clinging to his coat, wrapping it tightly about his chest and crossing his arms. Each step seemed a hazard as his black leather boots sank into the inches of soft snow. A keen sense was needed, lest he miss a step and collapse into the biting cold below. Aware, yet ever distant, lumen irises wander about the empty city streets. Lights flicker in the darkness ahead, barely illuminating the shadows yonder. Yet he knows the path home, it is all too familiar. Like a lucid dream from which he could not awaken – always the path home he remembers, never the journey from and to the cathedral he leaves behind.

The details were irrelevant to him though. Still, each night, he awakens there. Each night plagued by monogamy. Yet he could not seem to shake that odd feeling: As if something were different, just beyond his notice. It was not a comfort to him, but rather a haunting sensation. It bothered him, not being able to escape the feeling, but onwards he trudges through the snow. Into pitch alleys and out onto open, ebony fields. The world seemed dead at this hour, unmoving but never still. In the distance he could see lights – perhaps the small specks of street lamps and lit rooms – yet something told him that, no matter how long through the night he walked, he would never reach them. Thus he continues to trace a familiar path. Through empty corridors and streets, past barren parks and homes. Ever watchful, trying to spy on moving shadows, hoping to see familiar faces behind each lit window. All for nought. He felt alone, and perhaps he was. So he begins to ponder where everyone might be, to question how he arrived at the cathedral, and even when last he had seen the sun rise. Yet it was not answers which came to him, but rather an atrocious pain.

Like a knife, the sharp pain cuts deep into his mind and quickly brings him to his knees. Both hands grasp his head in a desperate attempt to quell the pain, he exhales, trying with all his might not to scream. Small whimpers escape his lips, body shaken by the sudden jolt of agony as he shuts his eyes and tries to bury the anguish away. Yet, like a summer breeze, the pain washes over him and is suddenly gone. Abashed and shaken, he slowly stands and continues on his way, he did not know why, he feared asking more. Needless to say, the familiar sight of that small red door never looked so pleasing. For he knew it was home, and here he was safe.

He enters home, instinctively calling out with a “Hello…” if only to stop himself from going any further as he remembers a bit of that forgotten past. True enough, he was alone. Venturing through a scarlet hallway his eyes fall upon faint traces of the past which came in the form of family paintings: Often times himself and his many siblings together. The eldest of many, he faintly remembers what it was like to bask in the adoration of a long lost father. Yet the faces of his brethren remain imprinted upon his mind. As if burned by the regrets of him ever having left such a comforting home. On his way toward his room, however, he stops before a portrait.

Melancholy swells within him upon gazing at a portrait of himself and his three eldest kin. Behind them towers their father, whose face was left obscured by a singed canvas. He seemed lost within the image, attempting to remember its origin. Yet he could do little, just barely clinging to the names of his brethren. It was becoming late, however, and he wanted nothing else than for such a night to end. Thus he tears himself away from a failed attempt at remembering and carries on toward his room.

At the black door he stops, reaching for the knob yet stopping just short of its grasp. He hesitates, but does not know why. That feeling of familiarity washes over him, how many times now? He slowly looks back, at the long corridor behind him, and is consumed by terror upon realizing there was nothing. The paintings were gone, the walls blackened, and no red door in sight. Nothing. In the blink of an eye it was all stripped from him. Quickly he turns, reaching for  the doorknob to his room, yet finds nothing to grasp. His eyes come upon blackness, and suddenly he realizes the door too was gone. All had vanished in a moment. Surrounded by a pitch black, the world had been enveloped in darkness before his very eyes. Until he was all that had been left, alone in the abyss… Suddenly he falls.

It was only then when he remembered: the anguish of flames enveloping his wings, the terror of falling through unending skies, the heartbreak of betrayal; To be removed from the side of such immaculate love. For a moment he was free of the weight behind his actions, yet it was just a moment. Falling in to the endless blackness, the truth had revealed itself to him again. What was lost had been found with consequence to bear in pain, “Awake, arise or be forever fallen” he whispered shutting his eyes as a smile crept upon his lips.

***

“It’s not a new life… It’s the same old one.” His whisper echoes through the silent halls of the cathedral. No matter how many times he shut his eyes, repeated those very words, the world remained unchanged. Yet, as he rises and turns, a lone figure emerges from the shadows of the cathedral doors. The silhouette glares with aureate irises as a single name escapes under his shaking breath, “Michael…” and all falls silent.

– The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…

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horror, mystery, mythology, suspense, thriller

Was it just a dream?

Each step seemed to sicken me further, as if the very essence of my being were imploring me to turn back now. Not unlike a child I felt, venturing deeper among this cavernous path wondering, fearing, for what might wait beyond the darkness. Lantern in hand. My only hopes extended to the thought of the flame which offered me this small comfort. Light – taken for granted by one who admired the stillness of night. Now I could only pray that this small flame last me the journey there and back; That there be a return from whence I go. Praying – A godless man, who resented his maker, now finds himself practically upon his knees in mercy. Screaming, quivering, begging within for but an answer to so many questions. No, not an answer… An escape.

I wished, prayed, hoped to be given the solace of ignorance and forget all that has been seen; To return to a life of stupefied beliefs; To be spared of this journeys inevitable end. Mixed emotions defined my being as I ventured further. They were placed into a turmoil by my own mind, which could never hope to grasp if but a fabric of the events which unfolded before my very eyes. Here, now, I journeyed deeper despite every part of my instinct demanding I turn away. Then, before, I’m still within that room. Disgusted by blood soaked sheets, walls decorated in what would later be deemed human flesh. Later, after, I’m on my knees; Tears cascading from eyes which burn away in azure flames. Time, once defined as but a stream, is not unlike a beehive: filled with so many paths and doors. If then I had chosen to ignore that case, to return home as intended, would I then be rid of the suffering I endured? Did it even matter? The answers were irrelevant. Here, now, I am. Endangering ever closer to what I knew was the end.

So why did I continue? Was it from the fear of what followed in my wake, or humanities own curiosity for answers to the unknown? My body suffered in pain, my mind tearing at the foundations of being, shrieking for me to stop. Yet I found myself ignoring these warnings. Not for fear of my safety should I stop, should they – it – manage to reach me, but because I had lost so much in this journey that I saw no other means to an end other than reaching the destination. Then, before, I traversed the darkness and was hunted by what I could only describe to be the nemesis of man. Escaping its cold grip at the cost of my right arm. Bleeding, aching, the seconds of my remaining life ticked away as I felt myself weaken from the loss of precious claret liquid.

Here, now, I fall to my knees before the grandeur of such sight. Tears cascading from eyes which burn away in azure flames. Dear God what have I done? Regret is but a word, the mere irrelevant spec of an emotion, event – whatever you may call it – which courses through my figure. Ripping apart my very anatomy from within. Had I the words to describe what gaped before me. No, even then I would dare not speak them in fear that such forbidden confession might anchor this perversity to existence. Hell was but the word of a feeble mind. Pain was mere ignorance of modesty. Clarity, understanding; now, more than ever, could never have been such agony.

Existence is deprived in the presence of what I believed but a moment as I find myself reminded of the words which once described such an onset. Which began the quest for answers mankind, I, should never have asked… So I spoke them aloud in hopes that I might find a sense of amenity in this moment of closure. Yet knowing it was all for naught.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering… fearing… Doubting… If this was but a nightmare I would awaken from, or the advent to unimaginable horror.”

I was changed, but to what end? Diving into madness within that brief juncture; Left scarred and disoriented by its mercy. I knew then, as it began, I would never be the same again.

And so I awoke….

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