The Unbreakable W.E.B. pt. 4 (Finale)

XI

"Michael, I...I've...," I started. Michael's facial expression saddened.
"Yes, I know, brother...you've been here before."
In the distance before us, there was a tall, dark building; parts of its structure extending and bulging out from the sides. Above it, there was a lurid sky, where a sun was struggling to break through with its brilliance, but only managed a dark red and orange light. The sky was filled with crows, donning greasy black feathers on their bodies. The calls coming from their beaks (some of the beaks were broken in half or cracked) were shrieks, rather than the acquainted squawk associated with them. Some of them had two heads, while others had only one wing. Some had no feet, while still others were missing the bottom half of their bodies; guts spilling out of their upper torso and splashing on the ground, as they frantically flew above our heads. At the base of the building, there was a thick, white mist that seemed to be caressing it. For miles around us, there was nothing but red distance on top of distance; space in front of space. And the heat generating from there was so thick, I was forced to breath harder. There were sounds coming from behind us; sounds of pain and torture; sounds of anguish and anger. And though Michael warned me not to turn around, against his better judgement, I did.
There was a hole in the ground. Its edge was lined with sharp, pointed objects that resembled fangs. Each one was slightly curved inward in a perfect (and almost beautiful) arc. Spilling out of the hole were thousands of naked bodies. The hole opened and closed on the bodies (regurgitating them), like a mouth chewing its cud; As the mouth closed, each fang came in contact with the bodies closest to it. They pierced their skin and bones in a ripping and crunching noise that overpowered the sound of the hot wind around us. As the mouth closed further, before opening, the bodies in the middle were not spared the agony, as some of the fangs grew in length, shooting out of its resting place with miraculous speed, and piercing their heads, shoulders, faces, breasts and legs. Their voices were struggling to be heard over the next one; straining a plea to be set free. They didn't appear to notice us, as their arms were extended before them; hands opening and closing in response to their pain. I ask Michael who they were.
"They have just arrived. The ones who have dwelled here since the beginning of time are seated in that building in the distance; damned to repetition." He pointed back to the poor souls being chewed alive. "They, in time, thousands of years from now, will join the ones in the building. Those years will pass by in what you consider to be real time. Time here does not speed up, but at times will slow down."
"You said the ones over there are damned to repetition," I said, pointing to the dark ominous building ahead. "Repetition of what?" One of the souls in the mouth reached out to me blindly; almost begging me personally to free him. I recoiled in disgust.
"Of whatever affected you in the worst way while you were alive on earth. That experience could have been either physical, emotional or both. If you agonized over something so much that it changed your eating habits, made you lose your job, lose your friends and your mind, you will experience that moment over and over and over...never ending; never losing its embryonic impact. If you painfully regret an action taken; an action that drastically changed your life for the worse, you are damned to repeat that action and its emotional impact on you. If the loss of a loved one threw your mental state so far to left field, you will see that loved one being killed over and over again, in front of you; violently being torn limb by limb while they beg you to save them, and curse you when you don't. And every time that person is flagrantly murdered in front of you by unseen forces...every single time, your sorrow and rage become stronger and stronger to the point where it's all you'll know, and you will spend forever beseeching your king to put an end to your existence. And, although, you will be warned that every time you beg him for mercy, your pain will be amplified, you will not be able to contain yourself and you will do so time and time again. Hell is pain. It is sorrow and suffering multiplied to infinity. It is, above all else, repetition in agonizing detail."
I took Michael's words in reluctantly. I didn't want to believe what he had told me; that any such thing could be true, but it was all right in front of me. The screams behind me grew stronger and shrilled over my shoulder in an acute wave. I turned to look and saw, briefly before Mike forced me to turn away, pieces of bone, skin, eyes, blood and feces spraying out of the mouth in the ground. We began to walk towards the building. My feet felt heavier than lead. I didn't want to move on here, but I knew that Michael had a reason for doing all this. There's always two sides to the story, I thought. You must listen to them, both; witness them, both, before you can judge.
As we slowly walked on, the screams behind me were replaced by sounds of confusion. I heard hundreds, thousands of voices asking, "Where am I? What is this thing? Who are you? What am I doing here." I turned around one last time and saw the thousands of naked bodies - that only seconds ago were mutilated chunks of flesh, meat and bone - whole again.
"Are they new, Mike?" I asked, while motioning with my shaking hand.
"No. It has begun again. Repetition, brother. It comes around full circle." The mouth closed its teeth around the bodies, already looking all too familiar to me, and I winced. We continued our walk towards the dark building in the distance. Red dust squirted out from under my feet.
"Mike, something just occurred to me; a question." Mike looked at me and nodded for me to ask. "What if for some reason, which I know is probably both rare and almost non existent, you never experienced anything emotionally or painfully intense enough to affect you? What if you were one of those people who actually felt pleasure in the pain of others? Who never once regretted anything you did wrong. What repetition are you cursed with? Are you stuck between your world and this?" I asked, sweeping my hand over the air in disgust.
"No, no," Michael said with a faint smile and a shake of his head. "You'll still be here in this realm of reality. However, on those rare occasions where Lu has nothing to draw on from your life, it is the one and only time that my Father forms a very brief alliance with his son, Lu, to brainstorm an alternate uninviting and painful reality for that lost soul. They will conjure up your worst nightmares and make them real."
"So there really is no escaping it. Either way, you're fucked."
"Yes, in so many words."
The building was becoming clearer in front of us, as we approached it. The screams behind us had trailed off. The crows continued their awkward flight above our heads. Blood floated in the air, as some of them collided with each other. The heat around us grew more vehement. On top of the building, there was a man. He was dangling over the edge and seemed to be out of proportion with the size of the building. His arms were hanging out in front of him and his face was hidden; the wind making his greasy black hair swirl around his head in chunks, not strands. I stopped in my tracks, as Michael walked a few paces further. Now, Mike had stopped ahead of me, and I wanted nothing more than to be on that cotton candy boardwalk.
"Mike, I can't m-"
"It'll be ok, Rick," he said, never looking back in my direction. He was staring at the man at the top of the building. "I won't let anything happen to you. Regardless, you're not visible to anyone here. But, we will need to take heed and extreme caution. Yes. Although you are not seen, you can be sensed. And if he becomes aware of you," he said, pointing to the top of the building, "I may not be able to get you out of here. He already knows I am here, as I have been many times before. Father sends me - and others - from time to time to have a talk with Lu; to try to persuade him to withdraw his army, drop his quest for domination over a wasteland and come back home." Michael motions for me to continue with him. I do. "I will not be a surprise to him, but when I show you what I want to, I will have to leave your side momentarily, because if I stand too close to you, in my light, he will see you. If I am talking to you or exchanging thoughts, he will become aware. In that moment that you are alone, you need not be afraid. You will be safe, so long as you don't cry out. You must never cry out. Your pleas and cries of fear will stand out over the millions of others riding the wind and I may not be able to come to your side in time to save you, brother. If Lu is made aware of your presence here, he will not want you to leave and I may not be able to stop him." He repeated more resoundingly, "Don't cry out." I nodded, my body beginning to shudder.
Lucifer began to move his head in an eerie, swaying motion; side to side like a blind man. Something was moving on his arms, and it wasn't until we were a few feet away from the building that I saw the muscles on them bubbling under his skin. He began to scrub his arms with his hands vigorously; like a chef desperately scrubbing a pan with caked and burnt on food. It was too familiar. I stopped for the last time.
"Mike, please, I can't. I'm too scared. I know this man. I've seen him before."
"I know you have." Mike turned and put a hand on my shoulder. "I know. And the reason for his constant visits in your dreams is because of the way you conduct your life, now, and your thoughts of ending it. Because of that, it's easier for him to make contact with you. More and more everyday, you are becoming a part of this realm. I used to have visions of us together in my world. We were riding our bikes, walking that old familiar boardwalk; playing catch." I smiled at him. "Those visions are slowly fading, Rick. There is something inside you that Lu wants. It's something that his Father fears will tip the scales, even further, in his favor." He paused, inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled with punctuation. "It's your hatred, Rick. Your hatred for all things around you. Your scorn and contempt for my Father. Lu sees a fire in you that he knows can be ignited and set free upon our maker." I hung my head in shame, not aware of what was inside me. I felt that hatred many a times before, but I never dreamed it was so violent.
I look up at Lu. Falling from his arms were sparks of fire, bodies in odd shapes; words like hatred, disgust and rage were curling off his skin and cascading down, falling into the mist at the bottom. The sparks of fire caught the words before they reached the mist, and sent them roaring down. The bodies, misshapen, fell to the ground in a bone crunching sound, and began to run in all directions. I saw one clearly as it ran past us, and I resisted the urge to cry out. The entire body was the color of soot. It had one leg, with a clawed foot that dug into the ground as it pounded against it. One arm was much shorter that the other and restrained behind its back. The other arm came to an end that didn't bear a hand, rather a flame; like the flame at the end of a welder's tool. It was bright red. The sound it made was the sound one hears when someone blows in your ear. Its torso extended out in some areas, while sinking in others. The muscles on it were not uniformed, but jumbled. There were blank, white eyes on its face. The mouth grew in size drastically. Before it ran past us, I could see that it was smaller than one of the musical holes on a harmonica. All of three teeth were visible in that small hole, and they were razor sharp. As it ran past us in a blinding fury, its mouth gaped open and had become as large and wide as a tunnel's opening. Coming from there, was a scream so high pitched and abrasive, I was forced to cover my ears and resist, for the second time, the desire to cry out.
The mist began to move towards us; the words screaming their names. Mike put a hand on my chest to make sure I didn't move forward and said, "This is it, Rick. I need to leave you briefly. I won't be far. Please remember what I told you." In my head I heard his words, Don't cry out, and I saw that he heard it, too. He brought his hand up to my cheek and wiped away a tear that was streaming down. I was shaking.
"I'm so scared, Mike. Please, promise me you'll come back." Mike brought a sad smile to his face.
"I promise." With that, he walked backwards, away from me, and looked up at Lu. Something was exchanged between them. Whatever it was, Lu became aware of Mike. He whipped his head up (his greasy hair slapping against his naked back, just like in my dreams), turned in Michael's direction and snarled at him. The sound not only filled the air, but was felt beneath my feet. I quivered. With Mike entertaining Lu, the mist continued to sail towards me. I braced myself, as it engulfed me. The words began to wrap themselves around my head in a blinding pain. I didn't cry out. I began to feel a sense of pure rage and hatred, compounded into utter disgust; disgust for my maker and all he had forced me to experience. I hated him for creating me and I was filled with a powerful rage and desire to kill my maker. I began to shake furiously in fear. The words sank deeper into me, slicing my skin and cutting into my heart. I became them, in all their glory. I was disgust. I was rage. And I was hatred. I had transformed into a dominance that could destroy whole worlds. It was a power one cannot safely wield; one that can't be contained for too long. It was a force that begged to be set free upon something or someone.
As I began to cry uncontrollably, a whimper escaped my mouth. I slapped my hand over my mouth and held my breath. I looked at Michael. He was looking back at me in fear. All at once, I realized he'd heard me. Oh dear God, I thought. Oh my dear God. No, no, no. Lucifer noticed Michael looking in my direction, and he snapped his head towards me. He jumped off from the top of the building, and the ground shook so powerfully, I was almost knocked to the ground. The words that had branded themselves to my heart, had started to leave me. I was left powerless, crying like a baby. Michael was standing his ground, no longer looking at me. I made no sound, as Lucifer rushed in my direction. He was naked. He stood an extra three feet over my 5' 7" frame. His eyes were filled with swirling, red fire. His mouth was open, upper lip raised in a snarl. He had two teeth in the front that come to a sharp end and were slightly curved inward. His legs were in the shape of a deer's hindquarter. Dry and course hair bulged out from them, contrasting the greasy hair on his head. His skin was navy blue in color, like some mythological beast. The smell emanating from him was the scent of decay.
He stopped inches from me, and brought his face down to mine. From the corner of my eye, I could see Michael holding his hands out to me, helplessly. I watched him, not daring to move or speak a word, as he wrinkled his nose, sniffing. He's hunting for me. Like some wild animal in the jungle. He pulled away from me to look at Mike. Mike tried his best what-are-you-searching-for look. Lucifer turned back in my direction, his tongue spilling out of his mouth. It was bloody and reptilian in appearance. It swayed and bent slowly in front of my face, just like a snake. He's trying to taste me. My God, he's trying to taste me! His tongue quickly snapped back into his mouth, like a measuring tape being whipped back into its case. There was a slurping sound. The flames in his eyes moved back and forth; searching. He looked at Michael.
"WHAT IS BEFORE ME?" he screamed, pointing in my direction. His voice was thunderous. I recoiled slightly, careful not to make a sound. "SPEAK ONTO ME, ADOPTED CHILD OF MY FATHER." Michael looked up at him, and answered.
"Nothing that I can see with my infallible eyes, brother."
"CEASE YOUR CHOICE OF ADDRESSING. I AM NOT A BROTHER TO THEE." His voice became louder and more aggressive.
"Yes, of course. Please accept my sincerest and guileless apology."
"I ASK AGAIN, WHAT IS BEFORE ME? WHAT HAVE YOU BROUGHT OVER, AGAINST MY SAY?"
"Nothing, br-. Lucifer. Not a single fragment of matter." Lucifer turned his head back in my direction. A tear fell from my face and landed on his foot. He didn't seem to notice. Mike was shaking his head back and forth slowly, gesturing for me not to make a sound. I wiped my face. I swallowed hard. He commenced his hunting again, tongue protruding out; nose wrinkling as it sniffed. In his eyes, I could see the hatred and disgust I felt minutes ago. I began to shake again. One of the crows flying above our heads had collided with another one and came crashing down on Lucifer's shoulder. A third clawed hand ripped free from his shoulder, snatched the crow as it came up and squeezed it, squishing blood and guts down Lu's chest. The crow managed one final uncharacteristic shriek. The hand dropped it into one of his normal ones (if you can call it that). I jumped back, startled, and my wanting to leave this place overcame me so strongly, that another whimper slipped from my throat.
Lu slowly looked down at me from the mangled crow in his hand, turned, threw it at Michael at a speed faster than a runaway train and screamed.
"YOU LIE!" He spun his head back around and began to scream a long, high pitched shriek that was a mix of two tones. I threw my hands up over my ears. I could hear Michael in my head, over the piercing sound coming from Lucifer's mouth. Don't look into his eyes, Rick. Look away. LOOK AWAY! I closed my eyes and turned my head away, for good measure. Michael grabbed me by one arm and pulled hard.
"We must go, right now." Something was leaning against his side, and before I could take notice of what it was, he put my hand on a familiar feeling metal bar. I looked down and saw that I was holding the handle to my old bike. Michael grabbed the one from his side, mounted it, waited for me to saddle up on mine and said, "Now!" We began to pedal hard, just like we did so many years ago when we would try to outrun the Chief of Police after we had backed up the creek with our man made dam.
"Don't look back, Rick. Just pedal. Just like we used to."
"I remember," I said assertively, and kept my sights ahead.





XII

We must have been pedaling fast enough to beat the Devil, and that's exactly what we were hoping to achieve. Lucifer's footsteps could be heard over his shrills and they were felt in the seat under my butt. I pushed harder on my pedals. Up ahead, I could see a small, black slit hovering in the air. Halfway there, I was mindful of a strong, thrusting wind at my back. I looked to my side and from the corner of my eye, I saw Michael's wings flapping furiously; pushing me faster.
"Keep going. Straight ahead," Michael yelled into the air.
"Where does it take us?"
"You're going back home, Ricky. You've seen enough."
The rip began to expand at its sides and grow in length. The tires on my bike were burning from the speed and the heat on the ground. The rear one exploded with a hiss of escaping air, sending me flying. I landed a few feet away from the opening. Michael screamed my name. Lucifer fell on me with a might stronger than anything I had ever felt. He picked me up off the ground like a rag doll and held me up in front of him by my shoulders. My feet dangled in the air. I pounded my fists against his chest. His skin was as hard as the ground below. Michael, once again helpless, extended his arms out to me in desperation. Lucifer spoke.
"AHHHHH, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THEE. WAITING FOR THE ONE WHO WOULD BRING MY FATHER TO HIS KNEES. THOU SHALL BE THE ONE TO END ALL THROUGH ACTIONS TAKEN AND BEGIN A NEW AGE OF SUFFERING." His language was arcane.
"The time is wrong, Lucifer," Michael screamed. "He was not meant to be here now."
"SAYS RIGHT BY THEE, CHILD. NEVERTHELESS, HERE HE HANGS IN MY GRIP. FINALLY."
"Lucifer, look at me." He ignored Michael.
"FINALLY, I WILL HAVE MY RIGHTFUL DOMINANCE. I WILL CALL UPON ALL THOSE TO GATHER AND SET FORTH AGES OF DARK WARS AND RELISH IN MY FATHER'S DEATH. WITH HIM AS THE LEADER OF A DARK AND ANNIHILATIVE ARMY, I SHALL BE TRIUMPHANT. TIME WILL-"
"Lucifer!" He turned to look at Michael, still holding me up at his eye level.
"CHILD, WHAT DOES THOU WISH TO BOTHER ME WITH?"
"The time is wrong. His being is not right. He died at my hands, not his own." Lucifer snarled, spraying the scent of death.
"WHY WOULDST THOU DO SUCH A THING AS THIS?"
"To show him what he is becoming. To make him change, Lu. The way I have desperately tried with you." There was a brief silence, as Lucifer gazed back and forth between us. "Lu, you have to let him go. If all I've showed Rick is lost on him; if he should still succumb to you in time, then you will be the victor. It is understood." Michael's voice slightly dropped in tone and became serious, as he continued. "But if you take him now, with no justification as to his death belonging to you, you will set forth a spark that will ignite a war you are sure to lose."
Lucifer's breathing grew faster and more ferocious. Michael waited. The only sound was his snorts and wheezing, and my pants and gasps. It seemed as if Hell, itself, had stopped to eagerly await what decision was to come. I felt his grip tighten on my shoulders. I grimaced in pain.
"Lu, you-"
Suddenly, I was being hurled through the air like a pitcher's pitch. Michael caught me in his arms and gently put me on my feet.
"THE TIME...MY TIME SHALL COME. I AM DESTINED AND DUE THAT. THIS MUCH THOU REALIZE WITH A CLARITY TO RIVAL ALL, NO? I DESERVE THAT MUCH AND MORE. AND THOU IS THE KEY, MY SON." He was pointing at me. "THAT REALIZATION FLOWED THROUGH YOU LIKE FRESH BLOOD WHEN YOU FELT THE HATRED AND DISGUST MY BODY FEELS. IT WAS MADE RIGHT, BY YOU. IT WAS YOU." He began to turn and walk away towards the ruins of the building that was in the distance. As he continued to talk, the ruble began to lift itself off the ground and reform in the shape of the building. It was like watching the event of it's destruction in reverse. "YES, 'TIS RIGHT. AND I CAN WAIT SECONDS MORE. I SHALL WAIT. I AWAIT YOUR RETURN TO ME. AND BY MY SIDE, THOU SHALL REIGN IN PURE HATRED. YES, THAT YOU SHALL. THAT YOU SHALL."
His voice trailed off, as he scaled the building and returned to the top. Once up there, he fell back into that position I've become acquainted with in my dreams. He continued scrubbing his arms, chanting, "THAT YOU SHALL", every so often interrupting the phrase with a low, guttural chuckle.
"Come, let's go, Rick," Michael said, and we both turned and walked through the waiting, black rip.





XIII

There was no grand spectacle, as I came back down (or up) to earth. There was, however, an uncomfortable feeling. Much like the feeling one gets being in a foreign place. I had adapted to my new surroundings much quicker than I could ever have anticipated. So much so, that the brief time spent there, meant more to me than the lifetime I have spent in my body. In the moment I had spent away from mother earth, she seemed to have grown colder; more bitter in appearance and smell. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be back in the world I had created. The world I had crammed with my own pleasures. There was a small part of me - somewhere in my subconscious - that even preferred to be back amongst the deformed crows and oddly shaped bodies running wild with their torched hands hissing in front of them. That desolate, putrid place seemed more familiar than where we stood, now. My heart raced in my chest briefly and acids bubbled up in my stomach for a short second, as I thought of willingly returning to Lucifer's world.
We were standing behind my 1975 Mustang on that friendly and intimate highway, only now it seemed as stagnant and cold as the rest of its surroundings. Not even this place, that once held the only comfort for me, looked pleasing. Michael stood at my side. No words were exchanged for what seemed like hours. In the uncomfortable silence, I walked over to my car and peered in through the driver's open window. There, resting against the steering wheel, was my head. It was unharmed. No blood could be seen. My eyes were closed, arms sprawled at my sides. I could see the scar on the top of my left hand. A ripple of disgust came over me. I walked over to the front of the Mustang. It was stopped inches in front of the large rock it had smashed against earlier. The headlight was intact. I was in awe of the difference, but found my mind overcome with thoughts of returning to where I was only seconds ago. I walked back over to Mike and broke the silence.
"So, now what?" I asked, my tone becoming slightly angered. "You leave me again, right? You leave me here to waste away?" He walked over to me.
"If nothing that I showed you of my world had any impact or held any allurement for you; if after seeing all that beauty, you can still return to your former ways and thoughts, then I have failed." He dropped his chin into his chest, slowly folded his wings and closed his eyes. "Please tell me I have not failed. Please tell me you have not been tainted my Lucifer's words."
"I know what I saw and I know what is true. I can't be made to make this decision on my own. I need guidance, Mike. I fear the worst if I am denied that." He looked up at me, and took my chin in his hand. He opened his mouth and started to say something, and stopped. His mouth closed, as he gave possession of my chin back to me, dropped his head again and turned to walk away.
"Mike? Mike!" His back was still turned when he spoke.
"You will not see me again. And you will not be visited by Lucifer again in your day or night dreams. You will not be swayed or coerced by either side. The decision you conclude to, shall ultimately be yours." He turned to look at me, and continued. "You have seen both good and evil; black and white. You alone must make a decision with no aid, brother. A decision marked without persuasion." He opened his wings, and I could smell the aroma of cotton candy drifting out of them. "All I can do now is pray for you and hope you will join me someday, Ricky. Remember, with every last ounce of life in you, all you saw in my world. Never forget its resplendence and perfection. The world you saw is waiting for you to inhabit it." Michael bent his knees, looked up, flapped his wings shut and was airborne. He looked down at me, smiled and said, "I love you, brother. No matter what happens, I love you." I ran over to where he was and yelled up at him to come back. I dropped to my knees and began crying, holding my head in my hands. When I looked back up, the sky was the only thing staring back at me with its thousands; millions of starry eyes. I forced myself up off the ground. Behind me, my Mustang purred to life. I turned around and saw myself inside still slumped over the wheel. I only had a second to be confused, before I was being pulled towards the car. I put my arms over my face in a shielding manner, as I drifted through the car and back into my body.





XIV

There was no pain as I entered my body. Only a queasy feeling, like I had just hopped off a roller coaster after having eaten one too many hot dogs. I lifted my head off the steering wheel and rubbed the small indent it had left on my forehead. I opened the door to get out and almost immediately fell to my knees, as my legs gave out from under me. The muscles were weak, as if they had not been used for quite some time. How long was I really gone for? Hundreds of tiny needles pricked my legs as I struggled to get up. Minutes later, I was walking without any further faux pas. I walked over to where Michael had been when he left me. I looked up at the sky and said a silent prayer. I prayed for his return. I prayed for my release. But, mostly, I prayed for guidance in my decision. I was scared for myself and, quite possibly, all of mankind. Spinning around to walk away, I noticed something floating in the air. It was above me, out of reach, but cascading down. I moved in its direction. The moonlight caught it. Seesawing down, was a single, cream colored feather. I put my hands out, palms up, and it landed on them. I brought it towards my nose, closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and caught the scent of cotton candy one last time. I was taken back to a place where the boardwalk ran on for miles and the summer sun beat down on our naked backs, as Michael and I pumped our legs relentlessly on our bikes. I could hear his laughter echoing; his lips reflecting the sunlight, as he brought them to a smile.
I closed my hands around the feather and felt a rage welling up inside me. My stomach turned over and I held back its order to vomit. I tossed the cream colored object to the side of the road, walked over to my car, slammed the door shut, threw her into gear and skidded on the night road. In the rear-view mirror, I saw the feather kick up in the rush of air the Mustang created. Just go away, I thought. I don't want to see you anymore. And just like you said, I don't expect that I shall. You have left me for the last time. As I drove, hatred was all I could feel, as I longed to forget Michael and all the times we had shared. Thinking back only made things worse; made my time spent here more morose. I didn't want those memories anymore and my rage and hatred became comfortable, as I made my way home.





XV

And here I am again; sitting in my regular stool. Telling my story day after day to anyone who will listen. Recapturing an old friend and the memories shared between us. Recounting an event that took place no more than two weeks ago. An event that commenced with a visit from a soul older than time itself, and was brought to an end where I was abandoned for a second time (third, if you count Abbie); left to walk alone with no guidance.
In the two weeks since my return to a world who's inhabitants were gifted with a mistake called Free Will, time has seemed to be running on its own two legs at more than double its normal speed. Hundreds of years have felt like they have spun by. I have witnessed thousands of people come and go; countless times going about their mundane routines. Each day, my disgust and hatred for this world and its infested livestock, grows more pronounced and lusty. It feels comfortable, like coming home. I dream of this world's destruction, and it is a sweet dream; one that never fails to bring a smile to my face like no other. It is getting harder and harder to imagine anything else. I don't fight it. I desire it. I see the mistake He gave us shining in the people around me on a daily basis, and it enrages me. This misconstruction, this fuck up - if you will - has destroyed everything in its path. Maybe in the beginning, when everything was new, it could have been rectified; it could have been undone or fixed. But it's too late, now. The damage has not only been done, but become a part of the norm.
And just as we may seek retribution against a country's ruler for wrong doings and mistakes made, should we not raise up in arms against our maker? Should we not seek a punishment for His mistake? Seek justice for a misapprehension so grandiose, it is the cause of all our wars and prejudices? Our inhumanities and injustices? I think it's right to do so. And it's this single act of retaliation that our maker fears more than anything. His children are all grown up and ready to take Him on. But, it's also an act He had to see coming. That we would throw it back in His face, watch it shatter and sprinkle around Him in shame, and there would be nothing He could do about it; nothing He could say. He brought it upon Himself. He should have fixed it when He had the chance. He should have spent that seventh day making it right, instead of resting on His laurels.
Besides, who's to say that wrong isn't right? Who's to say that seeking vengeance is not the right act to entertain? Who? Our maker? And who is He? Who gave him the power to decide all? Nobody, according to legend. But, who's legend is it? Is it not one told by a self anointed king? A selfish being who believes himself to be all mighty? Sounds more like the doings of an eccentric psychopath. One who was given a task by His maker, and didn't succeed.
There was much more that I saw that night when Lucifer held me in his unforgiving grip; much more that his eyes bared. I was made aware of everything around us. In that brief moment, I saw our universe and all that lies before and after it. I saw things that the finite mind cannot grasp. We have been fooled into thinking that infinity is what composes our universe; that the galaxies gently crescendo from one another. Life is not the grand mystery of the universe. Not by any means. Size is the great conundrum of our cosmos. Size conquers us. And even though I can sit here and tell you in total truth that there is a room that lies beyond the vastness that is our universes and that it is this room where the one, true maker, Gaea, resides and plants a watchful (but unconditioned) eye over all the worlds and beings she has created, you will not comprehend the distances floating in between. You will not comprehend the unimportance we hold to her. You will not comprehend how our universe comes to an end where a giant wall stands and how, if you chip that wall, you will see a brilliant light, and the door to Gaea's room. I can sit here and tell you that even though that end exists, it is not the end of existence, itself. To suggest an ending to anything so grand is the one absurdity. For, within our true maker, exists many other universes and beings. And within those, many others, still. Furthermore, we regard our species as being the most advanced and most intelligent ones to inhabit the universe. What we don't see is that that couldn't be any further from the truth. Inside Gaea, the universes breathe with a life all their own; where planets revolve around their own suns; where species of another race are far more intelligent than ours; where poverty, prejudices, wars and forms of injustices are never seen; where their makers got it right the first time. We stand on a single spec of dirt, in the grand scheme of things. The one true one gave her instructions to our maker on what and who to create. The idea to hand out free will came not from her, but from our maker. Once done, Gaea turned her back on Him and proceeded on to create the other universes and worlds that whiz by us, unseen. In comparison to the other worlds, ours is ancient; obsolete. It has moved on and come to a time when it begs for an end. We were the first to be born. And even though creators regard their first masterpieces as their one true love, they know in their hearts (as Gaea does) that they are ripe with faults and wrong choices, and they should be cast away. But, one can never seem to find it in them to toss it aside. So, it is left up to some unseen force we call time; that hopefully time will erase it or "lose" it for us. Gaea has hoped the same for our world. She has left it up to the forces of good and evil to decide its fate. Whatever the outcome is, Gaea holds no regard to it. Should the forces of good win, a different kind of world will revolve; one that will mirror the kinds within Gaea. Should Lucifer's forces win, this planet and all its inhabitants will cease to exist, and will be replaced by a more desolate planet; one where forces no longer struggle in battle; one where only suffering and pain exist and where an end to it will never come. And that sits well with Gaea. What does it concern her, anyway? Her attention is focused on basking in the glory of the creation of the worlds within her; the ones she kept closest to her to keep away from the others, like a selfish child; the ones she loves most. Yes, Gaea is a selfish one. But, rightfully so. Being born from chaos (the great void of emptiness) and having nothing for a timeless amount of time, until being able to gain enough magic and intelligence to create, would make anyone a selfish being. We have been left in the hands of our maker and his son, Lucifer. By simply looking around oneself, it's easy to see who is becoming the victor.
In the dreams that fill my nights now, our maker is crying and pleading on His knees to be forgiven and being allowed the chance to right His wrong. I tell Him it's too late for that. That He should have done that eons ago. He looks up at me pleadingly; His face littered with deep wrinkles; His skin tanned and tight, like an old catcher's mitt; his hair thick and hoary. I am disgusted by his face. In the distance behind me, I can hear the approaching, thunderous (almost symphonic) footsteps of Lu's army. I am its general, now. They are my followers, under the word of our god, Lucifer. And as our maker begins to pound his fists against the ground in defiance and agony of defeat, I begin to laugh. A large, derisive laugh. I can't help it. I can't contain it. I assure Him not to worry; that in time, no one will remember Him or the mistake He unleashed on His own children. That even though He, alone, is responsible for the outcome about to be bestowed upon His creation and its dwellers, He will not be blamed in the centuries to come.
When I wake every single time from this dream, I am still laughing. I can hear my army's approach ringing in my head. That sound is echoed in every storm that showers the earth with its brilliance. As clear as the sound of my voice is, you will hear it with equal clarity, as well. Have you not noticed the thunder getting louder and stronger with each passing storm? Trust me, it's coming. Don't worry, though. You will hear it soon. That you shall...that you shall.