Rising of The Phoenix

RISING OF THE PHOENIX
Chapter 1:
Resurrection

A menacing row of jagged rock and cruel looking underbrush looms hundreds of feet below Sarah Phoenix, as she clings to the side of a mountain cliff.

Sarah plants her feet into the shifting soil, squinting her eyes to shield  against the wind-blown sand, pelting her face. She thinks to scream for help, but that thought vanishes quickly. That isn't my style, I'm not going to go out like that -- screaming like some helpless female? No. No way, no how. She also realizes it isn't likely her cries would be heard. Not way out here. That's why she camped so far up the mountain this time. To get away from everything, have a few days of peace, to forget about the world and her life. If she's going down, then she's going down fighting.

Her anger now swells, begins to burn just as the agony now burns into her limbs.

Though undeniably beautiful, with a feminine form that is splendid and curvaceous, Sarah is anything but dainty. With an athletic build and standing more than six feet tall, her powerful frame was the only reason she remained alive. No average woman could have managed to grab hold of that rock after leaping from the cliff's ledge in the first place, much less hung on for this long.

She ponders her fate and thinks how her reckless living has now finally caught up with her. Something like this was bound to happen, Yup, Yup.

Sarah has always been different, always a rebel of sorts, but ever searching -- searching for her place and a purpose in this world. She has always believed she'd find it. She's been known to often repeat: “There's a plan for me out there -- just haven't figured it out yet.”

She strains through the rumble of summer wind still whipping against her and that rock, to listen for her assailants, who must still be in her camp, drinking her beer, eating her food. “Enjoying yourselves, boys?” Her voice like a growl across trembling lips, as her determined blue eyes search for an escape. Continuing through clenched teeth, “Just wait, just you wait ... if I can get out of this, you bastards are in for it.” Her shirt, now torn against the rock in her struggle, peels away to reveal the tattoo of a phoenix -- a rising phoenix with flaming wings outstretched. A magnificent image rendered vividly from the base of her spine to the top of her right shoulder. It seems to glow in the light of the low set, early evening sun.

With her grip slipping, and hands now torn and bleeding, she recalls all those she loves. First on her mind are her parents, who recently allowed her to move back home. They did so gladly, happy to help her sort out her life. She recalls her father's joy at having his “little girl” back. She thinks of her dearest friends and of Joe, her best friend of all. She thinks of how deeply he loves her, and the special bond they share. She's never told him beyond a playful “I love ya” how she really feels, but now she thinks to herself and realizes how much she does love Joe. Her thoughts linger for a moment as she pictures his face, and his smile, the way he looks at her with such trust and genuine affection in his eyes. He always worried for her when she insisted on taking these trips alone to the mountain. He hated it. Hated it so much. “Oh it's just because you'll miss me so much,” she'd tell him. “You'll survive without me for a few days.” Now she can only think of how he'd grieve. Her heart sinks as she considers his pain.

As her hands grow numb, her thoughts turn once more. She thinks of how she must have been deceived into coming to this place. She'd never camped on this part of the mountain before, few did. Rumors of a curse and strange happenings keep most away. But that was the appeal for Sarah on this occasion. She never believed her solitude would be broken, and that she would find herself at the mercy of such desperate and horrifying circumstances.

They overtook her suddenly, there were only two of them , but they were not ordinary men. She had never seen a man, a human grown to such a size. A giant, who had to be 8 feet, but with features powerful and in proportion, not slowed by his size, he moved like an athletic man of average height. His skin was fair, face gaunt and his hair white. So white, she was struck by it. She measured the whiteness against the purest white things she knows. A frogs belly, her best girlfriend's legs, no ... this white was even brighter than that. Even more striking were his eyes --  glowing like halogen beams totally obscuring any ordinary feature of a human eye. Still, she managed to get in a few good licks on the shorter ugly one before the giant overpowered her. Backing her up toward the cliff's edge with her own shotgun, the ugly, beady-eyed, beak-faced bastard smirked as he raised and cocked the weapon. “We do as we are commanded.” Sarah thought what a strange remark that was as she peered down the barrel of a shotgun, but she wasn't going to stick around to discuss it. That's when she took her desperate leap. That's how she found herself here. But now only seconds remain -- her surrender to this fate now sure. She was going to die.

Not a religious person, but considering herself very spiritual, Sarah knew in her heart her physical end would only lead to a new beginning -- her tattoo an embodiment of that belief. Her family name being Phoenix led her to a natural fascination with the mythical bird of fire since childhood. She came to identify with it -- a new creature reborn from the ashes of the old. She found connection with the power of such symbolism.

As she finally left the face of that rock she sensed a presence around her. Is that an Angel? She closed her eyes, as a feeling of tranquility accompanied her into the darkness.

Sarah's lifeless body rests as a broken mass, among rock and underbrush at the base of the cliff. An eerie silence now sets in, as darkness begins to fall. The two men still at the cliff-top camp can sense events about to unfold. The shorter of them still holding the shotgun, the giant standing at his side, both facing the cliff's edge with uneasy anticipation. They stare silently but nervously. Finally the giant breaks the silence.

“You hear that? There is nothing out there anymore. Everything is quiet. Something is about to happen. What's that shotgun going to do for you when it comes for us? We should just leave now.”

“Quiet. We do as we are commanded. We are here to witness. We are chosen for this. Gods require our service."

“What good is our service if we are destroyed in the process?”

Now he turns toward the giant, his anger evident. “Hold your tongue, or I will rip it from your head! You do not know the honor it is to be in such service! Thousands of years I have been in restraint, in that dreadful place, denied the purpose for which I was created. You cannot comprehend the torment and anguish. My bondage now loosed, I am given the opportunity to serve Gods again. I will not be denied of it. I did not need one of your kind for this. You will not deny me my honor.”

Accepting his rebuke, the giant now steels himself, and says nothing more.

Still in utter darkness and without thought, Sarah awaits her resurrection.

A swirling mass of light and an apparition of fire surrounds the broken, bloodied mass that was Sarah's physical body. A fiery ball of flames engulfs her lifeless corpse, reducing it to ash. Swirling light surrounds the ashen remains, as the fiery apparition now climbs, then plunges into the ashes. An intense display of light and flame now forms, building in size, until finally erupting upward to a height far above the cliff face, lighting up the night sky. It crashes down like a waterfall of flame upon the cliff-top camp, where the giant and the bird-faced man stand firm, straining to see the flame still pouring out of the sky.

Suddenly awareness returns. She awakes, having been taken to the seventh realm of Heaven and appears before a great throne. A voice powerfully announces that it is the throne of “the great Father Elohim, creator of all things.” She is stunned and awestruck, but without fear as she observes the scene around her. Though standing, she has no perception of any ground beneath her feet. All around is a brilliance of white light that penetrates everything she sees. A magnificent throne of gold around which are a host of beings, many with multiple sets of wings hovering above the one upon the throne, who's brilliance is far greater than the rest. One like Him sits to the right of the throne, shining nearly as brightly. It is impossible to view any features of either face, only a magnificent glowing form of a man can be perceived. From the throne a voice now commands, “Go, Michael my beloved servant and take from Sarah her earthly clothes, and anoint her with my holy oil.” A being like a man, adorned in white steps forth to carry out the command. He has the face of a young man, his features perfect and strong. Ceremoniously Sarah is stripped of her clothes and anointed with a fragrant and bright oil. Her body glows, and she appears as the rest of the beings around her. Michael faces her and speaks, “You will do the will of Him who's power is in you.” A feeling of power and calm indescribable overcomes her, and she notices the fragrance. Hmm, is that cinnamon?

Sarah is now suddenly placed in a dream-like state and taken from the heavenly realms. She sees in vision the image of a fiery-winged creature flying toward her, screeching, with wings outstretched -- a mighty phoenix as magnificent as she has ever held in her mind's eye. As it overtakes her she reaches out as if to capture it in her arms, then finds herself stepping through a wall of flame. She opens her eyes and stands fully restored, atop the mountain cliff. Realization of her surroundings is immediate. Lifting her eyes in a steely glare, and forming a cryptic smile, she is overcome with confidence and purpose.

She turns toward the two, who stand readied for her arrival. “Oh, if it isn't Tweedledee and Tweedledum. How are you both? Have you been enjoying yourselves? Well, party's over. I'm going to beat you now.”

Stepping backward the beak-faced man directs his giant companion forward, declaring, “Let's see what she has become.”

The giant man stepped forward drawing a large steel sword, much like those seen in movies depicting knights in armor. Surprised, Sarah cannot resist comment. “What the heck is that? How is it that you now suddenly have a sword? Oh, I am so going to beat you.”

Taking a powerful stance, her opponent raises his weapon, a scowl across his gaunt face, his eyes narrowing to slits that glow in the darkness. His face now appearing as a viper.

Sarah is unimpressed with the display. “You white-haired, glow-eyed, enormous freak!” She starts toward him, his size not a source of alarm as before. Sarah could only think of grabbing his face and crushing it. His initial attack is expertly executed and fierce, but she avoids every strike of his blade. Soon frustrated in not being able to reach his face, she gets careless, the edge of his sword striking her across the right arm. She reels. “Ouch! You Bastard! That hurt!” As she grabs at her wound and attempts to survey the damage with her eyes, it heals. Flesh and muscle close, her arm restored. “Damn! That's some pretty cool stuff. Yup, yup. OK, bring it on freak boy!” But she is stopped in her tracks by a shotgun blast to the back of her left shoulder. Beak-face man has entered the fray. Sent to the ground by the force of the blast, she quickly climbs to her feet. Her wound again healed in a near instant. “You cowardly little bastard. That's it, you get beat first.”

Striding toward the one wielding the shotgun,(her shotgun), she remembered his words as she was forced from the cliff. “So tell me, just who is it that commands you?”

“My makers' Gods command me,” he said as he withdrew, keeping a distance.

“What does that mean? Makers Gods? Makers of what? What Gods?”

“The one true Gods. My Gods is one.” He began pumping off shells as he backed away.

“Man your not making sense, who taught you to speak English?” Ghostly flames swirled around her powerfully restored body, disintegrating the shotgun pellets to no effect. She reached out snatching the weapon from his hands as a powerfully executed front kick caved his chest and sent his crumpled body soaring. So violently was he torn from the weapon that a finger ripped from the hand still squeezing the trigger. She tossed it, and the weapon aside.

Now more angry Sarah responds instinctively to enhance her attack. As she turns back to face her tall friend with the sword her eyes transform into a red glow, long flowing blond hair now a wave of curving orange flame. Enormous wings of crimson and gold erupt from her back, ghostly flames swirling with their every movement. Her entire body now engulfed in a radiance like the sun. Swiftly she strikes, streaking across the camp, her hands like the talons of the great mythical bird manifest in her, dig into the giant man's face. Finally, I have his face. Hanging on she drives him and his face into the ground, his great skull crushed in her grip as it was driven through. His body singed with fire, and now lay in an enormous burning heap. Standing over him Sarah is satisfied in her vanquishing glory. “Damn, am I one hell of a bad ass!”

Turning again, she soared to the spot she knew the beady-eyed, beak-nose one had landed. She expected to find him there in a broken lifeless pile of flesh and bone. He wasn't there, only the silhouette of where his body had pressed away the brush and soil. She searched for a trail or path to indicate the direction of his escape, but could find none. He seemed to vanish from there the way Yoda transformed into the force, taking even his robes with him.

Sarah soon calmed, her body resuming normal human form. All she can think now is to get off the Mountain. She thought for a moment that everything had been a dream, but the burning heap of that giant still lay in the camp to remind her that this was real. She found her Jeep and began her drive down toward home. Day break comes as she approaches town. As she drives she searches her mind for answers. She cannot reconcile what has happened to her with anything she has known or heard of. She wants desperately to just return to her life, and forget, but she knows she may have left her former life behind forever. No longer Sarah Phoenix, the daring free spirit She has been reborn. But as what? For what purpose? Confused by the events that seem to have transpired in a sick dream, she ponders how to wrap her mind around it. She can't forget the strange words of that beak-faced attacker, and the images and events before the Heavenly throne. She realizes she has been chosen for something far greater than she can presently imagine. She'll need help to make sense of this. Luckily she knows just the man to help her -- someone close to her, who cares, and is knowledgeable about all kinds of weird stuff like this. He has dedicated his life to the study of religion and ancient scriptural texts. He understands the origins of every iconic and religious tradition throughout human history. He'll search this out and we'll know what this is. Her relationship with Joe now seems to her to have been guided by fate for a purpose. “Joe ... I need to go to my Joe.” She reaches to crank up some music and detours, heading toward the outskirts where, except for his dog Benny, he lives alone on 30 acres. She'll be there in half an hour.