Thursday, November 11, 2010

Salvation

Osmond hadn't seen his wife in what seemed like weeks.
He couldn't even be sure how long he'd been in captivity ~ his whole world had turned upside down since the birth of Atlas.
His son - his beautiful monstrous shark of a son...
Osmond's spirit began to harden.  He'd never allow himself to break, for the sake of his son.


It was during this reverie that he heard movement outside his door.
He remained silent.
He watched the shadows of feet by his door move away, then return.  They remained there for a while, silent.
He wondered, would this be the time when his spirit would be tested?
His door handle turned.


He faintly picked up the scent of his wife.
He suddenly stood up, as a casually dressed man entered his room and offered a gloved hand.
"Mr. Mano?" he said as more of a statement than a question.
"We've come to help you."

"Jesus" Osmond gasped.

"No, not this time."

Stunned by the response to his remark, Osmond froze for a moment.

"We have your wife already.  Please come with us..."

Osmond remained frozen, unsettled by these men.

"Or.. you could stay here?"  Suggested the gloved man.

That woke Osmond up.  He took the mans hand, shook it, and tried to let go, but the man kept holding on.  He escorted Osmond through the unlit church, holding his hand all the while, like a parent guiding a child.

As they walked, Osmonds eyes (at this point quite adapt to the darkness) picked up the jerking movements of bodies strewn across the church.

Priests.
Parishoners.
His captors ~ now clinging to life on the ground.

"Are they dying?" he quietly asked.

"Not soon enough."  was the only response that he got.


They exited the church, where they stepped into a hybrid subaru - in which Ariel already sat.
The two held each other, and exchanged silent tears ~ joy and pain synonymously expressed.

As they did so, the vehicle seamlessly pulled away from the church
drove down the highway
and pulled up to the farm.
Where they got out
and were kindly escorted into the next set of trials.

Deep in the ground
where the devils work is done.

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