I stood, as a child, watching the snow fall like leaves or gentle feathers falling from the sky. It was in this moment that I found myself both comforted and distressed for my life. Although one may argue that there is no more danger in what happens around me than in inhalation itself. Exhalation has become almost impossible in these current times. Such dreary thoughts of truth fill my head, even as this harvested brown field metamorphoses into a brilliant white that somehow brings a glimmer of hope.
These past few weeks have shown heartache like no other month…year, like no other year. How has it come to this? The fall of one tyrant only became the rise of a far grander monster, far more dangerous and far more reaching than many can imagine. The days may be full of shining sun, however darkness clouds each and every man and it is more so upon those who cannot see it.
The lines of church and state had once simply become marginally blurred and while many protested far too many more complied. Nobody saw it coming, perhaps nobody truly cared; some of us did.
Our rights became moot and our lives became morbid. Death suddenly began finding its way through the seemingly few that sought to stand against this new unfathomable dictator. Albeit unnatural death. How many centuries of blood must flow in the name of God, for the purposes of man?
We tried our best to stay ourselves, to not be turned into the mindless multitude that swarmed around the city streets; brainwashed zealot zombies and even fearful yes men were everywhere. I watched as many a friends door was knocked upon. I watched as those same doors never again opened. I watched…merely, cowardly watched. One day the knock came from the other side of my door.
I fell to my knees as my wife and child fell to the ground, lifeless…as a bird falling from the sky.
It is here upon this cold, unforgiving ground that I now find myself. My tears frozen upon my cheeks as my loved ones lay cold before my very, wind chilled, eyes. I take a moment to regard my tightly clasped hands and to set my eyes once more toward the heavens.
The snow continues to gently fall as I am given one last chance…to worship you. They speak of their task as if it is your will. They want me to change into them…that is how I know they are not of you.
My refusal presses cold oil scented metal to my forehead.
I can hear the clicking of the trigger being pulled back as if in slow motion. This is not an average Saturday. I hope to see you soon.
-j.g.smith (12/18/08)
2 comments:
This is really interesting. With some tweaking and expanding this could become a pretty good short story. :) I like the sentence "Our rights became moot and our lives became morbid." You like to play around with words and sounds! It's fun, huh?
it's odd the little ideas I get, usually in the shower. the idea of standing in the field with snow came to me, oddly once I jumped into the typing in a few minutes it was this rough work here.
it is fun to play around with sounds, but usually my mind forms them before I notice anything.
maybe one day I will take these 15-20 minute rough works and make them something more real.
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