The Conflict.
Creative Writing
A spirit lies, bleeding. Crushed with the weight of all immorality on his chest. With each passing day the spirit grows weaker, and yet never dies.
"Is it my fate to feel hopelessness and despair for all eternity, must I suffer so, will my heart feel forever ripped into a thousand pieces? Oh god, please hear my plea, help me"
His cries carried into the darkness of forever. In moments it appeared as if his prayer had been heard. A fellow spirit passed him by. His face identical to that of the tormented one, and yet at the same time it was different.
"Hello there, is there a problem?"
Somehow his question sounded insincere.
"Oh yes, I lay here helpless and weakened, would you help me for I am unable to help myself, so abandoned am I. I fear if I stay in this state I will surely die"
The similar one smiled graciously; there was strange familiarity about him. His demeanour was dignified and composed and he had the poise and elegance of an angel but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his outward appearance. "Come now, surely things cannot be so bad, why do you suffer so?"
The bloodied spirit looked towards his simile,
"I chose my own path, the way is long and hard for me, I grow weary at times. My host is weak and grows weaker with each passing day; I fear I may not survive for much longer. Can you help me?"
The simile shot an icy stare at the spirit, his eyes were cold, not as much a reflection of himself as an opposite.
"I shall return" and the simile was gone.
The darkness grew blacker and colder, like ebony on ice. The ...
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The bloodied spirit looked towards his simile,
"I chose my own path, the way is long and hard for me, I grow weary at times. My host is weak and grows weaker with each passing day; I fear I may not survive for much longer. Can you help me?"
The simile shot an icy stare at the spirit, his eyes were cold, not as much a reflection of himself as an opposite.
"I shall return" and the simile was gone.
The darkness grew blacker and colder, like ebony on ice. The spirit was feeling more desperate than ever before.
"I truly cannot do this much more, somebody give me the strength I need to come through this hell"
As the night drew to an end the morning seemed the same as any other the spirit could remember. Only this dawn had an unnatural feel about it, as if death were living just around the corner.
"Hello again"
He was back, staring deep into the eyes of the damned spirit
"How could you leave me in my hour of need? I could never have forsaken a fellow being, or any other, the way that you forsook me"
A wry smile invaded the simile's face.
"And yet you abandon yourself. You have the power to save yourself and yet you choose not to."
The spirit was confused by this irritating simile, and who was he anyway. His likeness was an exact image of his own. His stance and gestures were all too familiar, yet he had a part of himself that was his alone. A dark forbidding side that shone through his eyes from the absolute depths of his being. It chilled the spirit to his very existence.
"I have the power, how?"
What is this nonsense that he speaks? I have no control. This is my path, my destiny
"Take my hand"
At that moment all hope left the spirit, he was totally and completely alone. Not the kind of alone we feel at the end of a broken love affair, nor was it the alone you feel after the death of a loved one. This was real alone. No love, no joy, no hope, a complete infinite emptiness that leaves a cleft deep in your gut. The alone that makes you feel pain seer through every fibre of your physical body. Except of course, this was a spirit.
"Who are you good Samaritan?"
The simile gasped as if in horror and then let out a screaming vociferous roar.
"You really don't know me, do you? Look at me, look into my eyes, see into me, see me"
"I am too afraid. Looking at you is like seeing me, and yet you are not I. You have something about you I cannot possess. I don't understand"
In an almost menacing tone the simile snapped,
"Take my hand, come with me, let me take your pain "
Reaching out for the simile's hand the spirit felt compelled. Driven by torture exhaustion, abandonment and hopelessness, he reached until the tips of his immortal fingers brushed against the hand of the simile. It was then he knew.
"Go back from whence you came, I will never go with you. I would rather face an eternity of hopelessness than forsake myself to you. You are evil, and I shall be happy to lay here bleeding, existing in this hell, anything but come with you"
At that moment a blinding light rose up into the sky, the air was filled with the sounds of a glorious choir and the beauty of the heaven was naked before him.
An angel appeared as if by wizardry, she was as beautiful as anything the spirit had seen before. With the softness of speech one would expect from an angel, she spoke.
"You have passed the test. In the midst of discouragement and disheartenment you stayed true to yourself. When tempted in your darkest hour you saw through your tormentor and chose a life of torture and anguish over the easy, yet wrong, path. You will be rewarded eternally, for you are a precious being in today's world"
She then turned her attention to the other.
"How can you do this, over and over you try to tempt them. You will always fail"
He spat back at this beautiful creature with all the venom of a poisonous snake.
"With everything that I am I will take the weak and show him what a lost cause they all are. I will seize the heavens and take my rightful place"
With one wave of her hand the simile was dismissed and the spirit restored with love and serenity, an inner peace that can only come from God. He was saved.
