Alone

Thou lord, my shepherd hath forsaketh me; I am overcome with want…..

 The cruel and harrowing storm raged in all its raw and salvage splendor while the world around it dwindled to rubble and waste. It gloriously rampaged all in its path as though it were on a search and purge mission. It moaned hoarsely, like a horde of banshees wailing in warning of impending deaths and while it did, time stood still. The unrelenting wind whipped around pelts of razor sharp tendrils as it howled through the top of the spindly trees and their ageless branches creaked threateningly, a clear indication that under the continuous strain of the mighty gale, collapse was imminent.

The clouds were in frenzy as the fury of the storm blanketed the colorless moon and plunged everything into a thick, reddish blackness. Dark figures fluttered about gleefully in the clouds as lightning and thunder struck unceasingly, yet unadulterated terror could be sensed from within…

Under the bough of a huge nigrified mahogany tree, a man lay, nursing deep long gashes all over his body. These injuries were the result of the lashing winds assault which still had not relented in its onslaught. He was tormented by these injuries as well as other unspeakable horrors. Devoid of all feeling, he stared at the sky in resignation as he whispered his litany;

 He forbade me to lie down in green pastures: he didst abandoned me beside the turbulent waters......

 The man's long black hair whipped about his diseased face as he shivered in the fiendish cold. A tattered black blanket was his only defense and he held on to it tightly, desperately trying to keep his muddy feet beneath its protection, but to no avail. Aside from that, he wore the simple black clerical garb common to men of his discipline but the white collar which complemented the attire was long lost. His chest heaved with an effort as he tried to move his hands and feet. His lips wore a worrying grayish blue which suggested that hypothermia was setting in but he remembered those sacred words and knew death wouldn't come to him that easy;

"And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall free them".

He'd once entertained the cowardly notion of simply giving in since there was no escaping, but the natural human instinct for survival had prevailed. He had weighed all the "Pros and cons" and had reached a hopeless realization; there were no "Pros and cons", there were just "Cons". No one would know how hard he had fought or how bitterly he had cried, for the storm washed away all proof. No one would know how devoid of hope he felt, for the wind howled louder than his silent howls of despair.

It's been one too many days of dark terror for Padre Theophelous as day and night inculcated as one. During that period, he'd often wondered what had become of his brethren and if they'd suffered a less or worse fate than his. He had been chased long enough to realize the bitter consequences of his unknown weakness, his unknown sin. It all boiled down to one thing, "Cause and effect" and he had come to the late realization that he was reaping the bitter seed of his unsowed labor. 

 He condemneth my soul; he barred me from the paths of righteousness against his name's sake…

 

They had woken up one morning to discover that a - small number of their brethren were missing. The by far larger remaining populace were left perplexed by the disappearance and hinted at foul play, never suspecting the worst. They had woken up to nothingness, silence and a chilling calm. So unnatural was this calm that it reminded Padre Theophelous of the infamous "calm before the storm" from his fishing days for he was once a fisherman before he became a fisher of men, and with great trepidation he waited for the unknown storm that was sure to follow.

The great forces at work were sure not to disappoint for as though on cue, all hell was suddenly let loose. A hailstorm of fire and blood were cast upon the earth, incinerating a third of the trees and all green plants in view. Rooted to the floor in shock, they had watched the infernal carnage unfold before them, then the realization of what was supervening hit them just as a mighty inferno was cast into the sea.

They all then collapsed to the ground in tears and howled at the chaotic skies in shock and confusion. But their inquiries and supplications were replied with more wanton abnormalities as the ocean turned blood red right before their very eyes.

"And the third part of the sea became blood and the third part of the creatures which were in the sea and had life, died; and third part of the ships were destroyed"

It's often said that one of the quickest way to break a man's will is to show beyond all reasonable doubt that all his sacrifices were for nix. The knife of betrayal goes way deeper and leaves an indelible mark on his psyche if he'd always believed he was sacrificing for a greater good. This crushes the spirit of even the mightiest of men and leaves him completely without conviction and direction. The same could be said for his brethren, whom a whirlwind of emotions had assaulted as they tried to swallow the bitter truth; "They had been left behind". 

Nay, I am now compelled to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear all evil, for thou art not with me, thy rod and thy staff they desert me…….

As they struggled to come to terms with their predicament, the skies they had been looking up to for some sort of divination suddenly darkened as a third part of the sun, the moon and the stars were smitten. The day shone not for a third part of it and likewise would be the night and afterwards a thick choking smoke arose as thus from the pit of scheol and the remaining part of the sun was darkened by reason of it. The thick smoke stung their eyes to cecity and burnt their lungs to cinder as they panicked and scattered like an unbounded deck of card, for they knew that the "Together we stand, divided we fall" saying held no sway for their predicament.

Deep down, Padre Theophelous knew there was no escaping the fate that awaited him and his brethren but he struggled on, in search of salvation. Typically, human nature will always strive to delay the appalling inevitability but the truth is, most of the time, they only succeed in prolonging the horror. That singular trait was once man's greatest asset but it was now the greatest source of man's undoing, a glinting and sharp double edged sword I must say. 

"Thou prepareth not a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou refuseth to anoint my head with oil, my cup dried out"

 The crawling Padre Theophelous, who in his hopeful opinion was making good progress suddenly, heard an overpowering hum before he was assailed by several inhumane and hellish stings. Out of the hazy smoke, locusts had come upon them as was foretold and a gripping terror capable of blessing a bronze statue with speedy flight, overcame him, for it was also foretold that;

"Unto them was given power, as the scorpions of the earth have power. And it was commanded them that they should not hurt the grass of the earth, neither any green thing, neither any tree; but only those men which have not the seal of God in their foreheads. And to them it was given that they should not kill them, but that they should be tormented five months: and their torment was as the torment of a scorpion, when he striketh a man".

Padre Theophelous took to his heels screeching as he finally caught a glimpse through the unholy haze. Not a care was given as to what may lay in his path, all that mattered was fleeing. Never had he run the way he did, never had he felt his heart beat like it was going to implode, never before had he felt raw and undiluted terror for they were exactly as they were said to be; indescribable, an abomination, freaks of nature, monstrous impossibilities. So he ran for his sanity, no more willing to undergo the excruciating anguish, but the locusts had other scintillating ideas of their own as they gave chase and tormented him for a further five months as was foretold.

In all those months of torment, he'd had time to ponder deeply. He'd also re-evaluated his life and wondered where he'd gone wrong. Several unacceptable possibilities came to mind, several he'd considered and weighed, others he'd discarded. Yet he who was devoid of all conviction continued brooding in wretchedness and mendicity.

"Surely goodness and mercies have followed me not through the days of my life, and therefore I shall not dwell in the house of the lord, not now, not ever…"

He was at a crossroad and it was time for him to stop running. Why denounce one option for another that had deserted him? Hadn't he sacrificed too much of his life in the lords service to be left behind? Hadn't the vow of celibacy been harder on him than the others because he'd once tasted and reveled in the sweetness of the flesh? Hadn't he once loved and sired a son but had forsaken it all for the lord's service? Hadn't he prevailed even when he craved sin? Hadn't he triumphed even when he had been tempted over and over?

Or were the sins of his past the parameters for his judgment?

It was the curse of every religious man to question his doctrine at least once in his holy service, it was their major weakness and many got lost along the way. But he'd fought his doubts and conquered when his faith began to waver.

Didn't that count for something?

Or was he being forced to pay penance for not reporting Padre Timothy whom he'd caught in the act of sodomy with Simon the altar boy? Had his capacity for forgiveness or his belief in second chances doomed him? The bitter part of it all was that Padre Timothy had been amongst those that had been missing that faithful morning. The irony had burned at his soul like ether and had left his insides forever hurting.

Didn't he deserve a second chance too?

Wasn't it worth more to serve he who wanted nothing more than for you to harness your inner self? For what will it benefit man to struggle to fight his nature, to fight the weakness ingrained into him by the maker, only to be deprived off the ultimate reward?

Does giving in make him weak or is he simply being governed by man's natural instinct for survival? 

 He expected no answers and made his decision as soon as he saw them approaching. It was time to stop running, it was time to embrace it, after all it's said that "if you couldn't beat them, you join them". From where he got the strength to stand up was beyond any discernment and when he began to fearlessly walk towards them with open arms, he broke out in a toothless grin for he saw in them the source of his salvation.

The wind howled in protest and lashed out at Padre Theophelous in blind fury but it wasn't enough to deter him. The floor around him became incandescent and burned with pure avidity but Padre Theophelous marched on with a steely determination and wild fire in his eyes. The blood rain flooded down with increased intensity, as though in mourning, but he who had been devoid of conviction laughed in manic joy. He was basking in his new found conviction with fanatical fervor and he marched on to be marked as one who was of the beast.

For the great day of his wrath had come and who shall be able to stand him?

                                                                                                Revelation 6:17

The Imaginarium

It is believed that there is no greater evil than the feeling of sheer hatred for another man. It's also believed that hatred is misplaced admiration, hence almost harmless. Whichever one chooses to accept or embrace is based on one's perception and experiences in life.

 Back when I proclaimed myself an atheist and openly rejected the existence of a higher being because I didn't believe in the supernatural, I was branded a blasphemer. To buttress my point and out of that insatiable urge to make an idiot off my accusers, I pointed out a few of the too many obvious holes in the stories and doctrine their holy scripts offered them. But when a plausible explanation couldn't be offered in a way of their defense, they simply claimed that my problem was that I've read way too many books. But I laughed at them in derision and told them that it was them with the problem because they read too few books.

But now that the very fiber of the existence which I thought mine has been shaken, I am not sure that I can stand firm on my beliefs again. I know not what to believe in now but all I know is that reading which has always given me deep insight and understanding on the several mysteries and elusive nature of life has failed me.

 

It is very difficult to accept but even the happiest man, the richest or even bullies all have their own demons to battle. It is even more difficult to accept that a perfect life is a pipe dream because human wants can never be sated. Back when I was a kid, I once cried back home from school after my rich classmates mocked me mercilessly because we lived in the suburb. Pa wore a painfully patient look as I tearfully asked him why we couldn't move out and live in a better environment. I remember the feeling of guilt, then appreciating and finally joy I felt after he quietly took my hands and walked me to the slums of New Orleans. He never said a word to me as he walked me through abject poverty and unimaginable living conditions others lived in; he never uttered a word to me after we got back home and to this day. 

Like they say "Silence speaks volume". A message had been passed and the lesson had been learned that day.

So I have come to understand that these so called demons are the substance to our existence, a necessary evil. Look around you, the rich want more riches, the happiest man will still have that little moment of melancholy slip into his life, You will mourn your existence and so crave for the life of others that by the time you realize you were better off the way you were, it would have been too late.

 ************************************************************************

 It is quite ironic that several years ago I had detested my job, my life and craved for another because my boss had physically and psychologically bullied me at every opportunity. 

For as long as I can remember I have always been a bully magnet. In kindergarten, nursery, elementary school, high school, college, even in church, name it, bullies found me everywhere. I guess being slightly overweight, cherubic looking and possessing a low self esteem must have contributed to it. My boss on the other hand was a sleazy well built ex jock that popped steroids like multi vitamins. He barely had peanuts for a brain and a pencil for a dick but was fortunate to have a wealthy father who put him in charge of a section in his company. On my worst days in the office, I used to console myself by believing that he tormented me because he was no match for me intellectually, but I also mentally slapped myself awake from my delusions and wondered again if he just enjoyed it because I could never muster the courage to stand up to him.

My boss wasn't married then and still isn't because he is now locked up in a mental home. But back then I used to think it was probably for the best because any lady who was unfortunate enough to get caught up in his sticky, deceitful and egoistical net would definitely end up his slave, no two ways about it.

On the other hand, my overactive mind sometimes entertained the unpalatable notion that he was queer and I was the main protagonist in his twisted sexual fantasies. I told myself that it could explain why he kept bugging me. You see, people had strange and uncomfortable ways of going about expressing feelings and the bugging ploy was usually aimed to annoy who they felt affection for into some convoluted plan to snare them on a hook and reel them in a senseless act of perpetual mental torture. Back then I hadn't known whether to cry or laugh at my suspicions because my boss epitomized the word "Rattler", and the mere thought of him merely fancying me in any form gave me penny sized goose bumps which signified only one thing, that I was horrified beyond reasoning. 

My job as an accountant in a fashion house didn't warrant much excitement. Filling up payment ledgers and nodding in acknowledgement to the models that came by were as much excitement as I got. I also hated the models too because I was perceived to be inconsequential and therefore dismissed with barely a wave. Tempting as it was back then to just quit my job and move away, I remained because it was financially secure and economically supportive. Moreover jobs were hard to come by those days because of the recession. So I therefore stayed within my uncomfortable example of a comfort zone which comprised of a bullying boss, my forever nagging wife and ever chirping two year old twins who never knew how to shut the fuck up.

On and on I bore it all till a by chance encounter with "Doctor Horowitz's Imaginarium" where all dreams temporarily became a permanent reality in your subconscious, forever transformed my life.

  

The rotund and mystical Jewish Dr Horowitz claimed he combined a blend of an induced dream state, the manipulation of one's imagination and mastery of astral projection to enable his subject temporary live any life they have imagined for themselves. Doctor Horowitz on my first visit stated and guided me through the rules of the Imaginarium before warning me of the dependencies and dangers.

He stressed that one should be calm and devoid of strong emotions before entering the Imaginarium because the Imaginarium on a subtle level also reacts to and fed off our feelings and emotions. He claimed that even he couldn't tell what faith waited whoever unfortunately didn't comply with the rules, for the mysteries of the Imaginarium outweighed any mans capacity for assimilation.

I must admit that the beauties of my experiences in the Imaginarium were quite overwhelming and against the warnings of the mystical Dr Horowitz, I soon became dependent and attached to my imagined escapes.

  

My pathetic existence continued as usual but the thought of Dr Horowitz's visits enabled me survive with little felt misery until my boss crossed that proverbial line and subjected me to a public humiliation. 

It was almost closing time on that unfaithful day and I had been rushing towards the loo to ease myself when suddenly I tripped and fell splat on the floor amidst the laughter of everyone who was present to witness my inglorious downfall. I got up to realize that my boss had placed his foot in my path but I had been too preoccupied with keeping my pee in check to notice. I was filled with so much shame and anger that there and then I decided that I had had enough of his disgrace. So I turned around and menacingly approached him in an attempt to physically confront him for the first time ever. His face showed surprise and a little fear as I approached him, then his eyes drifted a little down and his expression was replaced with disgust before he pointed and everyone started laughing, this time louder and more spiteful than the previous.

I was still seething in anger several hours later as I sat staring into the dreamy and hypnotic eyes of Dr Horowitz's. I still couldn't help but think of my boss and if shame was ever going to allow me return to work the following day. I shamefully remembered how all the courage I had managed to muster when I decided to confront him evaporated in a whiff after I realized I had soiled my pants when I tripped. I was so horrified and ran out of the office, never stopping, never knowing where I was going until I found myself in front of Dr Horowitz's wagon.

Even now as I sat in Dr Horowitz's chambers I could still hear the torturous echoes of their laughter in my head and just before I was finally surrounded to the beautiful embrace of my trance, I bitterly hoped we could switch place so that I could give him a dose of his medicine or he should simply leave or better still disappear forever.

In my trance, I briefly saw my boss scrutinizing my every actions with so much intensity before that mental image faded away to be replace with the laughing image of people whom my mind eyes couldn't identify. They were gathered around and laughing at me while I lay crying in a puddle of my urine and excrement. Finally the warm and comfortable grip of sleep pitifully enclosed my consciousness and carried me away to oblivion, but still the faint echoes of their bitter laughter followed me on.

I entered Dr Horowitz induced dream state but this time it was different, very different in fact. 

 I was floating in the night skies with the celestial bodies speeding past me in a blur. The stars were scattered around but I couldn't help but notice or recognize an organization, a pattern in their arrangements and for some funny reason it nagged at my consciousness. A little distance ahead from where I floated was a whirling mass of nothingness, a vortex swinging dangerously towards me. In panic, I began to desperately float towards the opposite direction across the night skies. I feared for my safety even when I knew it was a dream and that Dr Horowitz had warned me about it. He had warned me that the rules of reality and physics in dreams are of a totally different type, so I should tread carefully even though it was relatively safe.

While in flight I noticed a blur coming my way, a figure floating towards me in the distance, so I frantically waved for him or her to go back. When I drew closer I was astounded to see that it was my boss who was wearing this curious and perplexed look as I passed him by. We swiveled in unison to look at each other as the distance between us grew. I, silently appealing for him to come back, while he just stared until we eventually drifted out of each others sight. The night skies were huge and expansive and my floating alarmingly began to gather momentum like I was being suctioned.

Then I realized to my dismay that my boss had actually been fleeing from a similar vortex but it was too late to turn around as I was snatched away into oblivion where everything melded into a painless grey fog. The fog then wrapped around me tightly like a blanket and a tingly sensation assaulted my body before the grey became muted, then red tinted its shade until it became black.

All this I experienced within seconds as unconsciousness returned me into a dreamless void.

 

I woke up with a scream locked in my throat and tumbled to the floor in a thud. I struggled to get up and stumbled towards the bathroom door to wash my face. But something clicked in my head and I stopped in my tracks as it became apparent that something was horribly wrong. I slowly realized that I didn't recognize my surroundings and then my body also felt alien. So I rushed into the bathroom to take a look at the mirror and the horrifying face of my boss stared back at me.

************************************************************************

I have since been violating his shell and living his life, while he was sequestrated in a mental house after he came back raving and claiming he was me and I was him. I have since been living a life I thought was better than mine, a life I assumed will fix all my inadequacies, a life I presumed would make a better person off me, but alas, I was wrong.    

I have come to realize that we all have our place and purpose in life; we all have a place on the food chain where some are meant to be trampled on by others. I have learnt that we were made for specific functions and specific functions we must coordinate. I have learnt that if you force your way into where you do not belong, you will be faced with dire consequences.

There is a constant battle for supremacy between my soul and this body I have taken. Take for example, I constantly have to fight the body's attraction for the same sex [my suspicions were on the mark, he was gay]. The body's great dependencies on steroids and all has left me fighting a losing battle, worse of all, the mental and psychological torture I am forced to endure from his father leaves me feeling inadequate and sterile and with time I began to transfer aggression and pent up frustration on others.

I lived his pathetic life and began to understand the reasons for his actions. I feel so sorry for him because he even had it worse than me and I began to crave for my former life. It's got so bad that I now look in the mirror every morning and weep because "I have become the one thing I detested most"