gingerandy1
01-07-2013, 06:23 PM
KINGDOM COME
By Andrew Watson
The punches continued to land. Blow after heavy blow rained down upon his face and head as the world around him flickered on and off in disconnected flashes. The dark form of his assailant loomed above him like some angry thunder cloud ready to unleash another lightning strike down on him. A crowd began to grow unaware and uninterested in the cause of this violent scene. Nobody tried to stop it or intervene they remained an impassive audience to the unfolding violence. Some of them laughed, amused by the awkward graceless movements of the attacker, and shouted words of encouragement. Others took the side of the victim driving him to reply with equal force eager to see a fair fight while some just watched, holding their phones in the air to record the grisly event.
The figure on the ground made no attempt at fight or flight. Instead it remained still on the cold wet concrete, huddled into the west corner of a small forecourt now filling with an audience expecting something to happen. His muscles were relaxed and loose, rolling with the heavy onslaught of punches, like a boat caught in the middle of a white squall, veering and pitching amid the violence of breaking whitecaps. He could feel the crowd closing in around him, saw glimpses of them as his head lolled rhythmically back and forth, they didn’t care what was happening. To them this was just a short distraction in their otherwise dull life, it was something to twitter about or post on youtube, an amusing story to share with their friends. He hated them, every single one of them, their self-centred arrogance made him sick, their complacency and weakness but above all the way they squandered their lives.
He looked back towards his attacker. The blows were becoming slower, softer and the hard edges of pain began to recede into a dull ache. It was almost time. The blows stopped as his attacker gasped raggedly trying to catch his breath, his skin slick with sweat as he supported himself against the brick wall. This was his chance to escape, voices from the crowd yelled encouragement, some telling him to run, others told him to take the advantage and retaliate. He chose neither, he remained on the ground his warm blood pooling on the concrete below him as he met the gaze of his attacker. There was a pause while the two men stared at each other, each one seemed to be waiting for some kind of signal from the other, something which would allow them to end this and walk away. It was not going to end so easily. The atmosphere between the two men suddenly changed, a shift in power had somehow happened and the crowd sensed it, more subdued they looked on in a tense silence as the attacker caught his second wind. All thoughts of walking away now gone, he re-asserted his dominance with pulverising blows. The victim looked up between the protection of his arms and smiled in satisfaction as his attacker lost all control.
The attack had become frenzied, the blows no longer aimed at the face and head, now arms swung wildly back and forth hitting the body, legs and even striking the wall. He could see the bloodlust in his attackers eyes, the descent into madness, intoxicated by the act of violence and the power that he wielded over another. Now it was time. The crowd around them knew that a tipping point was coming, like the sense of an approaching storm, they were powerless to stop it as they continued to watch. The attacker staggered backwards briefly losing his balance and falling to his knees. The victim now stood, stretched to full height he appeared much taller and muscular than before, his body almost seemed to expand as he walked towards his attacker.
The figure moved with an ease of confidence far removed from the cowering wreck he once was. Casting his gaze over the stunned crowd a broad grin hinted at his superiority. This was the moment that he relished the most of all, that brief moment of clarity when they suddenly realised what they have done, and there was no turning back. This was his moment of victory over them all. Some of them still confused continued to look on wide eyed and dumbfounded, others recognised him crying out in fear and terror they fell to their knees praying for salvation. It was too late for that now.
The figure now towered above his attacker who cowered on the ground like a wounded dying animal. A satisfied smile on his face, this was where they were meant to be, on their knees begging for forgiveness. When he finally spoke his voice was clear and soft.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, I do……. Please I” he realised suddenly that salvation and forgiveness were now lost him.
The dark figure took another small step closer, then kneeling down he held the man’s face in his hands. A look of sympathy or even affection seemed to come over him as he gently kissed the cowering man on the forehead.
“I didn’t expect this”
“You watch too many films. What did you think that I would appear in a puff of brimstone with a pitchfork and a tail waving your contract in my hand”
The dark figure gently pushed away the strands of wet matted hair from the cowering man’s face and wiped the tears from his eyes. He could feel the hot blood pulsing through the man’s body, his heart beating like a jackhammer, his life-force straining to find some kind of escape. It was now more than ever that he envied these creatures, that brief glimpse of life they had was more precious than they could understand, he had always hated them for that. Leaning closer he gently whispered into the man’s ear.
“You don’t deserve his love, you do know that, don’t you” he didn’t wait for an answer, it wasn’t really a question just a statement of fact, turning his back on the weeping man as he rose to his feet.
He looked once more at the crowd gathered around him. He couldn’t believe that he coveted so much what these creatures, these hollow lumps of clay, these ungrateful petulant children, had. Now the sweet taste of victory had turned to a bitter after taste. It was time to end this.
A sense of envy and jealousy had always overwhelmed anything else he felt. From the very beginning he had been the scorned middle child, his love forgotten and neglected, passed over for the transient affection of a prodigal son. They didn’t deserve to be his most loved, they never appreciated what had been given to them, they rejected and debased him at every turn and he allowed it.
Long ago he had been the best and the brightest among them, loved above all others and in turn his adoration was stronger than any of his equals. Now he was cast into the shadows and the darkness of the deep, all because he did not accept them as his superior. He had refused to bend the knee for them and he refused to beg for their forgiveness. He remembered the days before his fall as if it were the life of another and even then he was restless. A life without choice or free will is no life at all, that had been denied to him and his brothers and instead given to those less worthy.
That had really been the only choice that he had ever made. To set himself on this path, to show him how undeserving they were and he will see it to the end. However long it takes and however bloody it might be. He would stand again at the golden gates followed by his legion of the damned. Then they would see how grateful the sons and daughters of Adam were.
By Andrew Watson
The punches continued to land. Blow after heavy blow rained down upon his face and head as the world around him flickered on and off in disconnected flashes. The dark form of his assailant loomed above him like some angry thunder cloud ready to unleash another lightning strike down on him. A crowd began to grow unaware and uninterested in the cause of this violent scene. Nobody tried to stop it or intervene they remained an impassive audience to the unfolding violence. Some of them laughed, amused by the awkward graceless movements of the attacker, and shouted words of encouragement. Others took the side of the victim driving him to reply with equal force eager to see a fair fight while some just watched, holding their phones in the air to record the grisly event.
The figure on the ground made no attempt at fight or flight. Instead it remained still on the cold wet concrete, huddled into the west corner of a small forecourt now filling with an audience expecting something to happen. His muscles were relaxed and loose, rolling with the heavy onslaught of punches, like a boat caught in the middle of a white squall, veering and pitching amid the violence of breaking whitecaps. He could feel the crowd closing in around him, saw glimpses of them as his head lolled rhythmically back and forth, they didn’t care what was happening. To them this was just a short distraction in their otherwise dull life, it was something to twitter about or post on youtube, an amusing story to share with their friends. He hated them, every single one of them, their self-centred arrogance made him sick, their complacency and weakness but above all the way they squandered their lives.
He looked back towards his attacker. The blows were becoming slower, softer and the hard edges of pain began to recede into a dull ache. It was almost time. The blows stopped as his attacker gasped raggedly trying to catch his breath, his skin slick with sweat as he supported himself against the brick wall. This was his chance to escape, voices from the crowd yelled encouragement, some telling him to run, others told him to take the advantage and retaliate. He chose neither, he remained on the ground his warm blood pooling on the concrete below him as he met the gaze of his attacker. There was a pause while the two men stared at each other, each one seemed to be waiting for some kind of signal from the other, something which would allow them to end this and walk away. It was not going to end so easily. The atmosphere between the two men suddenly changed, a shift in power had somehow happened and the crowd sensed it, more subdued they looked on in a tense silence as the attacker caught his second wind. All thoughts of walking away now gone, he re-asserted his dominance with pulverising blows. The victim looked up between the protection of his arms and smiled in satisfaction as his attacker lost all control.
The attack had become frenzied, the blows no longer aimed at the face and head, now arms swung wildly back and forth hitting the body, legs and even striking the wall. He could see the bloodlust in his attackers eyes, the descent into madness, intoxicated by the act of violence and the power that he wielded over another. Now it was time. The crowd around them knew that a tipping point was coming, like the sense of an approaching storm, they were powerless to stop it as they continued to watch. The attacker staggered backwards briefly losing his balance and falling to his knees. The victim now stood, stretched to full height he appeared much taller and muscular than before, his body almost seemed to expand as he walked towards his attacker.
The figure moved with an ease of confidence far removed from the cowering wreck he once was. Casting his gaze over the stunned crowd a broad grin hinted at his superiority. This was the moment that he relished the most of all, that brief moment of clarity when they suddenly realised what they have done, and there was no turning back. This was his moment of victory over them all. Some of them still confused continued to look on wide eyed and dumbfounded, others recognised him crying out in fear and terror they fell to their knees praying for salvation. It was too late for that now.
The figure now towered above his attacker who cowered on the ground like a wounded dying animal. A satisfied smile on his face, this was where they were meant to be, on their knees begging for forgiveness. When he finally spoke his voice was clear and soft.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, I do……. Please I” he realised suddenly that salvation and forgiveness were now lost him.
The dark figure took another small step closer, then kneeling down he held the man’s face in his hands. A look of sympathy or even affection seemed to come over him as he gently kissed the cowering man on the forehead.
“I didn’t expect this”
“You watch too many films. What did you think that I would appear in a puff of brimstone with a pitchfork and a tail waving your contract in my hand”
The dark figure gently pushed away the strands of wet matted hair from the cowering man’s face and wiped the tears from his eyes. He could feel the hot blood pulsing through the man’s body, his heart beating like a jackhammer, his life-force straining to find some kind of escape. It was now more than ever that he envied these creatures, that brief glimpse of life they had was more precious than they could understand, he had always hated them for that. Leaning closer he gently whispered into the man’s ear.
“You don’t deserve his love, you do know that, don’t you” he didn’t wait for an answer, it wasn’t really a question just a statement of fact, turning his back on the weeping man as he rose to his feet.
He looked once more at the crowd gathered around him. He couldn’t believe that he coveted so much what these creatures, these hollow lumps of clay, these ungrateful petulant children, had. Now the sweet taste of victory had turned to a bitter after taste. It was time to end this.
A sense of envy and jealousy had always overwhelmed anything else he felt. From the very beginning he had been the scorned middle child, his love forgotten and neglected, passed over for the transient affection of a prodigal son. They didn’t deserve to be his most loved, they never appreciated what had been given to them, they rejected and debased him at every turn and he allowed it.
Long ago he had been the best and the brightest among them, loved above all others and in turn his adoration was stronger than any of his equals. Now he was cast into the shadows and the darkness of the deep, all because he did not accept them as his superior. He had refused to bend the knee for them and he refused to beg for their forgiveness. He remembered the days before his fall as if it were the life of another and even then he was restless. A life without choice or free will is no life at all, that had been denied to him and his brothers and instead given to those less worthy.
That had really been the only choice that he had ever made. To set himself on this path, to show him how undeserving they were and he will see it to the end. However long it takes and however bloody it might be. He would stand again at the golden gates followed by his legion of the damned. Then they would see how grateful the sons and daughters of Adam were.