The Soul’s Famine

“Release all anguish of the past, my child,” the voice was beyond calming; a new sort of hypnotic restfulness. “You, chosen child, are indispensable—a blessing for all. The world is waiting for you. It is waiting for its third.” “But,” I still couldn’t move, and even the hypnotic tones of the voice were not enough to settle the smallest speck of fear in my heart. “Where am I? Why can’t I move?” “Does your heart kneel to the one you call God, my child?” In my calm, yet panicky state of mind I answered, “Yes, though I believe I’ve seen more than most.” My body remained still as the voice inquired of my ideals. “Do you put your faith in the one you call God?” “What do you mean?” I still couldn’t move, but the questions enthralled me. “Do you believe God to be righteous? Do you believe the Highest has acted justly; that creation retains virtue?” I tensed up. The voice was vocal gold woven into finest silk, but the question brought forth my resentment for all that had befallen my family and me. “I believe in God, but that doesn’t mean I follow Him.” “Well enough, my child.” I felt as though I were turning in this tight space that I was unable to move in. I rolled over and heard the rustling of dirt and stones as I felt myself falling with the space. I hit against whatever my encasing had fallen upon so that I lay facing down in my blackness. Movement was still greatly restricted, but as the dream continued I could feel as though I were being lifted within the space. As though something were beneath me, pushing upward against my torso. “You, child, are blessed. Not by the Highest, but by the Fates and he who sought to create a better existence than even that of the one you call God.” The voice seemed to inhale, taking a moment to ponder over his schemes. “To fructify a ceaseless paradise upon the plane which was destined to be.” I continued to lift until my back was against the edge of my encasing. Musky air began to fill the space. My hands pulled up after much struggling to push against the front sides of my container, and with much surprise I found myself pushing against padded wood. Rustling continued above me; a sound of something being piled atop of me. I began to panic again, “What is this?” “This is what the Highest has so gracefully bestowed upon you, child. Break free of those bonds. Break free by my will, and so this will shall be your own.” I pushed against the wood, but I didn’t feel that amazing strength I had just moments prior while I was awake. “Please! What’s happening?” “All gifts wrought by the beast named God.” The voice spoke the last word with great spite. A thick stench came up against my face to replace the simple musky odor. I felt as though the thing pushing me had give to it, but I still couldn’t see anything with the eyes of a simple human. “Help me!” “You wish for my help? You beg for the freedom which was given? Do you desire their return, my child?” “Yes!” I screamed as the space continued to feel as though it were closing in on me; both with space and that horrid aroma of decay. “Be blessed under my will.” I blinked once and the world returned to the reddish tint that I had seen before. All was visible, but what I saw was beyond anything I had ever wished for. Beneath me, that which had pushed me to the top of my casing, was a decomposing human body. The eyes had sunken inward and the teeth were visible behind slightly pulled back lips with no flesh to shield them. The smell was coming from behind those teeth which were directly in front of my face. I began to shove against that corpse, feeling all the bones and remaining flesh break or peel away at my force. Beneath my hands the rotten flesh shed from the remains and slid to the bottom of our cage. Each stroke of my limbs, which I had meant for freedom, opened new wounds and tore more skin to release more of the noxious stench. The clothes were tattered and torn, but in my flailing, I saw the shimmering of a brilliant metal around its neck. I still pushed against the bottom of the casket that had held us both together, and in my fearful moments I saw the silvery cross that rested against the dead man’s neck—the necklace that had rested around my own neck—the necklace that my brother had worn. Skin was rotting from the skull, the veins had since turned to ash, and the stitching that held the mouth together struggled to retain the rancid stink back as well as it could. I was against this decaying body of my brother, but I couldn’t escape; those dead eyes watching me. Black holes where his beautiful eyes use to be; these stared at me and set my heart to cry and my mind to burn. Wood shattered and simple cloths ripped as my hands tried to break me of my prison, but I still felt weak compared to my reality’s self. “Stop this! God!” “Was God not the one who granted such a pitiful outcome? You would call the name of your afflicter?” “You can help me? Please? Help!” I was screaming for someone; for anyone to save me.