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Untitled. A (hopefully) new riff on an old theme.

Started by Epimetheus, January 07, 2011, 01:49:31 AM

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Epimetheus

I wrote this in an attempt to write something, anything. Practice, if you will. All constructive criticism accepted.

      Many years ago, in my youth, I had an encounter I have never been able to forget.
      I was hiking around a local mountain. I heard a stream nearby and I broke with the trail to follow the sound. There, sitting at the stream, I saw him. He was sitting on a rock, hunched over, head in his hands. A linen garment hung over his body which, despite a large build, seemed weak, exhausted. Liver spots were visible on his exposed skin.
      As he heard the crunching of the leaves under my approaching steps, he lifted his head and turned it with a painful slowness to look at me.
      In his gaze and his ancient, drooping face I saw the weight of innumerable years. I saw pain, anguish, but also subtle vestiges of anger, and the potential for love. The complex labyrinth of wrinkles on his face seemed to belie a complex past, full of intense experience. For a moment I lost myself in his deeply sad expression; an expression I had never seen on anyone before. A teary redness filled his eyes. A breeze flowed through the area, nudging his frail beard.

      "Hello," he said with a voice that seemed to come up from the very earth itself.
      Moved by the emotion in his voice and movements, I could bring myself to no more than a nod.
      "It's a nice stream," he said, turning to look at it. "Water has always calmed me."
      Once again my voice failed me and I nodded, even though he was looking away from me.
      "Look," he said, and pointed. An orb of water formed from the stream and floated into the air, then stopped, hovering. Within the orb the water swam around and encircled itself. It was amazing.
      "Oh my god," I said.
      He forced a fraction of a smile against his sadness and chuckled.
      "That's the kind of thing I should have done more often," he said, quietly, and his expression slowly turned back to one of grief. The orb succumbed to gravity and splashed against the ground.
      His eyes lit up for a moment.
      "People used to love me. I mean really love me. They used to worship me."
      Hesitantly, I asked, "Who are you?"
      He sighed, as once again the wind played with his beard.
      "I used to be called Yahuwa," he said. "Different people called me different things, though. I've never had much of a preference for any particular title."
      I remained silent, feeling awkward. I still didn't fully comprehend the figure before me. He leaned back, and the rock he sat on grew and changed form behind him to catch him.
      "I was king," he said, sighing again. "I was judge, jury, and executioner. My word was their command."
      Silence again, as he shifted his legs.
      "But I went and ruined it all. Of course, I was young. New to the game, so to speak. I did a lot of stupid things. I was brash. Mean-tempered. Tyrannical. I destroyed a lot of lives. I may as well have been a war patron. Death himself was bothered by how many of his future clients I was removing from the world."
      If the orb of water hadn't convinced me, now I truly began to realize who this person was, or at least who he was pretending to be.
      There was a pause.
      Dumbly, I ventured, "Um...are you-" I took a breath, and continued. "Are you God?"
      Once again, a chuckle, and an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.
      "Like I said, different people called me different things. But, singular God? Timeless, endless, omni-everything God? No. You have to understand, a long time ago there were many gods. ...Well, they're still around, but they're like me: tired, lonely, weak. We are nothing without our people."
      Suddenly something clicked and I realized: Yahuwa. Yahweh. Jehovah. I felt a little braver.
      "You mean to tell me you are the ancient Middle-Eastern god? Yahweh?" I asked, to make sure.
      His peaceful smile grew slightly.
      "Yahuwa. But yes."
      My mind was washed over with a mix of awe, disbelief, and confusion. The most popular god on the planet was telling me he has lost his people.
      "But your people are all around the world!" I said, louder than I meant to.
      He looked at me again, pitifully. "Is that so?" he asked.
      "Yes! Your followers are the largest following on the planet, of any deity, ever!" I said even louder.
      He put out a hand in a calm-down gesture, and instantly I was filled with a feeling of peace, and my stressful confusion was indeed calmed down. I sat on a fallen tree next to me.
      "I am worshipped by none," he said.
      Still indignant, I stifled my urge to argue. Knowingly, he smiled.
      "From your books you know the stories of the destructive and vengeful god who rained fury on Sodom and Gomorrah, the god who tortured poor Job as part of a bet, the god who flooded the world. The god who spoke the words, 'I am a jealous god.'"
      I grunted to confirm this.
      "That was, indeed, me." he said, his face returning to sadness. "I was, I know, hateful. Horrible. But I was worshipped, and that was all I cared about."
      He took a slow breath.

      "I ruled for many, many years. Eventually, though, the other gods of the area began talking. I was getting older, and they thought I was getting softer. They thought I couldn't hear their gossiping mutters - but then, none of them had the powers I did.
      "There was even that boy - the one they all talk about now, the one I-" he paused, "concieved with a mortal woman. My son, technically, yes. But many gods were doing such things with mortals, and I was arrogant enough to do it as well. That, of course, would spell my undoing.
      "You see, the boy - my son - became aware that he was my son. He taught many people about me. But he told lies. Of course, he didn't know what he was doing, and I am not angry, now, as I was then.
      "People began to believe in another god - one of love, one of forgiveness, one that transcended all human pettiness. As they began to believe in the new god, I began to get weaker. I could feel it, too. It was terrible, and my rage made it all the more terrible.
      "Oh, I tried to stop it. I tried to destroy the boy at every chance I got. My debilitation was rapidly worsening, though, and every shot I took missed. I would bribe soldiers and government to take him captive, but every time he was finally arrested my attack would hit the soldiers and not the boy.
      "My reign was coming to a close. I'm not sure when I finally accepted it, but in my last desperate throes, I made one last attempt on his life, bribing the Romans once more. This time, being humbled by failure, I stayed out of the actual killing.
      "As you know, it worked. It was over for him. The irony is that it was over for me, too."
      He sighed, and a wind whipped through the trees.
      "Other wrathful, destructive gods of the area eventually lost their power, too. Now, we're almost all just old men like me, able to do little more than lift water into the air."

      I watched him, awestruck and humbled.
      "I had a good run, though," he said, and smiled. A tear fell from his tired eyes. "We all had a good run."
      He wiped his tears, and looked at me with gratitude. "Thank you for listening."
      I smiled back.
      We sat for a minute in quietude, listening to the stream and the songs of birds.
      At some point, I don't know when exactly, he was no longer there. All I know is that I looked and he was gone. In his place was a rock formation, with vague erosions on the flat front that might, with scrutiny, resemble an ancient, sad, smiling face.
      After a few minutes of walking around the rock, hoping to somehow bring back the man that was there, I sighed and shook my head, unsure of the thing I had just witnessed. I patted the sad rock as if it were a friend, and went back to the trail.
POST-SINGULARITY POCKET ORGASM TOAD OF RIGHTEOUSNESS