Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: KINDNESS (11/04/21)
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TITLE: Go Home | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
11/10/21 -
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The pup who faithfully wandered the community trails with him rose each day - eyes keen for a glimpse of him - lay down each night, tail tucked away, eyes dim. The kind hand who brought him home – gone.
Not that the fugitive chose his fate. The surge of darkness wrapped itself around his mind, his spirit and his body. Villainous screams erupted like an unbridled volcano unleashed on the world. Sharp rocks cut deep to release the pain, the terror, the darkness but it went deeper still. Deeper than the carpet of scars across his chest, his arms, his legs, his back.
“You can’t go home!” the voices whirled like a dark tornado inside.
The smell of burning flesh, human waste, putrid trash, rose on the smoke twirling into the heavens. It evidenced the emptiness of all who the shroud embraced. Not even the withered jasmine on the outskirts of this hell could stifle the stench of bile. Carrion vultures circled high above and settled to pick at the exposed carcasses.
Malevolence after malevolence wormed into the cavern of his soul – dredging up putrid foulness unseen in villain or savage. The strength of thousands tore the strongest fetters and shattered any sense of safety. Hell found its home in him and he was helpless to resist. The door was open to all.
Young men throwing stones. “Die, you devil’s spawn. How dare you haunt our homes. You unfeeling offspring of the living dead. Rot in the pit.”
Like a raging bull, a charging lion, a rabid dog, he wreaked havoc with the fury of a barbarian warrior ravaging an unsuspecting town. The villagers had come for him to rescue the ones he loved. They shackled him in iron chains, bound him hand and foot, isolated him. Nothing held him. Friends and foes alike nursed their bruises, barred their doors, and sheltered, trembling in the darkness – unsure when he might come again. Praying for him not to come home.
In the place of the dead, they abandoned him. “We wish you were dead. Shriek with the bones of the departed. Leave us alone.” Not a shred of kindness for the lost and lonely.
Like a tortured soul he haunted the darkness. Like a denizen of the deep he sheltered in the darkest caves – hunting for hope. Sunrise and sunset alike hosted the howls stimulating shivers in all who heard. Maggots of fear, guilt, shame, bitterness, hatred, pride, vileness – spewing pustules of slimy corrosion, corruption and confusion.
Voices. Screaming. Shouting. Accusing. Condemning. Terrorizing. Anger. Lust. Noise! Noise! Noise!
And then, a boat. A man from afar.
Facedown, sucking dust. Shouting louder and louder. “What do you want with me?” Louder. “Don’t torture me!”
“Impurity, come out! What is your name?”
“Legion. Let me be. If not here – at least in the pigs.”
“Go home to the pigs.”
The thundering of hooves. The squeals of terror. The splash of death.
Townspeople. Running away. Silence. Shuffling back. “What is this? Sitting? Dressed? In His Right Mind?” Terror. Murmuring. Begging. “Leave us alone.”
The healed. “Let me go with you.”
“Go home and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he had mercy on you.”
“What kindness is this? No payment? No task? No lecture?”
He hadn’t been home in years. Not to see the woman who missed his warmth at night. Not to see the three growing ones who endured the mockery of the neighborhood. Not to till his garden or to eat an apple off his tree. Now, he walked comfortably, calmly, slowly. Wondering. There were no voices telling him what to say.
The pup who had faithfully wandered the community trails with him rose - eyes keen for a glimpse of him – nose up into the wind, tail beginning to wag, ears raised in anticipation – then darting like an arrow, barking into the breeze.
A trembling, tentative woman. Standing by the door – wondering if rumors could be trusted. Children standing behind – each unsure – stretching necks to see for themselves and then seeing the dance between dog and dad – they unfurl like flags in the wind and sprint for the open arms.
What kindness is this? To go home.
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