TITLE: Broken Utopia (Part 2) 07-05-16
By Jeremy Kirby
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… Vivid colors streak past, “Wow this is amazing, what a wonderful side effect,” I think to myself. This vaccination is just too much. I hold my face into the lukewarm breeze.
“Where am I?” I struggle a bit and find that I am not free, that something is holding me. This must not be the vaccination at all. Suddenly, whatever has me in its grip stops abruptly and releases me. Nausea creeps into my throat. I find my balance and stand looking at what it was. There I see a man, tall and muscled, and folded upon his back are prodigious wings, white, gray and speckled with black.
He delivers me to a room; it looks to be a palace hall, like one that you would find in a storybook. There are large stained-glass windows and just ahead of me, a throne with one seated upon it. The angel ushers me closer into a semi-circle podium. I wait as he walks toward the throne and I am amazed at the contrast of the two beings. The King, dwarfing my angel, is stunningly immaculate. The King takes the book from the angel’s outstretched hands, and opens it. I get the feeling that I am on trial and quickly I become very nervous.
“My child, your name is not written in The Lambs Book of Life,” He pronounces.
His eyes are sincere and exude a genuine love. I find myself drawn to Him like a baby to her mother. I can see that He is hurting, and I recognize that He no longer has the power to save me.
I am again lifted up as the angel gently and calmly carries me away. Numbness is beginning to spread over me like a mournful sleep. Now, he brings me to a gothic chamber and sets me down. My toes curl against the icy floor. I gasp as I realize that I am in chains shackled together with many, many others.
The room is shadowy and gray like the dungeon of an old castle. Someone is sitting behind a desk in the rear left corner. He is watching us march by, checking us off one by one like we are merely cattle. Something is pulling us, so I focus my attention toward the stone arched door that is swallowing us up. Finally, it is my turn to enter. I step through and onto a spiral staircase. It is likewise carved out of stone and covered in a slippery coldness that I once again notice with my naked feet. There is no talking; the only thing I hear is the clinking of heavy chains as we descend into the darkness.
I, at last come to a platform at the bottom of the staircase where another ghoul checks a list.
“No, NO!” I scream.
Our line of prisoners is being pushed off a ledge. I turn to escape but the strength of their weight is too much for me to withstand. I dig in my heels but it only serves to cut my flesh into shreds. Sliding, screaming, I fall into the abyss.
Shouting without reservation, I fall. I watch as each of the prisoners are swallowed up by great surging flames. As I am enveloped by the fire, my chains melt, freeing me from my fellow sinners. The air that I have taken for granted now clogs my lungs with a smoky heat.
Finally, I slam down onto the stony bottom and plunge forward, banging my head into volcanic rock. Blood bursts out and I feel the pain pulse through my body. Instinctively, I put my hand over the wound and feel the soft gray matter of my brain. I now realize that this is a mortal wound; however, mortality no longer exists in my world. My blood quickly dries like barbeque sauce on a grill.
Many people were with me, but now I am alone. I strain my eyes to see but when I open them, they begin to burn as if they are being melted from their sockets. When I feel my way forward my hands sear as if they are touching a hot iron. My skin boils and hardens, as I move it breaks into great scaly cracks. My clothes have been burned away and my hair has melted off. One could not tell whether I was a man or a woman.
Days and months pass by, or maybe it has been only moments, for time cannot be measured in this torment. My brain cannot think of anything other than the tortuous heat and absence of moisture in my mouth. At times I begin to curse the God that I never believed in, only to be stopped short by some unfathomable distress.
Frayed in the entirety of what is left of me, I crumple into a heap. Tears flow as I remember all the good things and loved ones of my past.
“Have they all left me, am I really alone?”
My emotions are overwhelming, but in that moment there is a clearing in the atmosphere. I try hard, raising my eyebrows, and I finally am able to open my eyes.
I see that I am on the edge of a great rift. I stand and walk to the edge of the charred rock and I can see to the other side.
“There’s my Grandmother,” I mumble to myself.
I can see she is standing next to a man. I have never seen him but I know him all the same, he is Jesus. He whispered something to her and she then stepped toward me. For once, a glimmer of hope trickled from a long forgotten place in my heart. I leaned forward to hear what she was about to say. It was then that I noticed the others. All the crippled and charred inhabitants of Hades now stood in anticipation of what event was about to take place.
To be continued…
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