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
My Dark School Of Thoughts 
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