"The Shatters of Time Ch01 and 02" by Emma-Jane C. Smith

The shatters of time leaving space for the long eternity that waits. Pondering existence makes no answers, it creates ever more questions. Questions that drive us too far beyond the boundaries of both sanity and insanity. The endless immortality of the universe lies at our feet and yet we cannot grasp it. Not one tiny scerick, nor tiny piece or morsel.

It taunts you and yet it holds no emotion, it knows nothing of even its own existence. Which makes it all the more frustrating for the mortals that inhabit it. They have no choice to exist but neither does the universe. It simply is, for no reason that we or any other being can understand. Perhaps even the supernatural cannot fathom the depth of the simple question that enslaves us….why?

Why is the question that taunts the soul… it hammers away at the strings clasped around your heart. And yet it too does not know what it is…. It too has no knowledge of its infliction. It exists for yet another reason unknown, or perhaps it is part of the same reason. A reason that is dark and mysterious, and is, as yet, unnamed.

Ch01: A Soul Tormented

“The world and all its hatred is written in the heart of man so hard and fast that not even the bravest of man can escape. I hate the way they self-destruct, they slit their own wrists without even recognize the blood that flows wet and swift to the ground. Why are they set on the path of self-destruction? Why are they set in this universe that God has created? Why does the Dark One and his demons seek to infiltrate our very lives in every way. I hate they way they sit and watch all the evils of the world with lust and excitement in their minds and hearts. It is a sickness that infuses the very air around them. An infectious disease that decimates everything that it grabs a hold of. And yet it still does not interfere with human’s one power to cease this terror, free will. The ability to choose what you will partake in and what you do not.

There is always an avenue of forgiveness but they do not take it. They choose that path that is a darkened alleyway where no light of God shines. It does not shine with God because humans themselves have put out the lights. They banished the good and accepted the darkness into their hearts, souls and minds. I see the way others around them partake because no one is brave enough to stand up to them.

No one will even light a single candle of hope. They sit and squander the gifts God has given them. Their lives are wasted away. If God wept of one such person, he would weep for every single one. He would cry oceans of tears and still not have cried enough.

They ruin what God has given freely as a gift of kindness and hope, they turn it into a blackened pit of sin and evil. Making man decrepit and ill. And yet the hand of God who created humankind, stays his hand. For he knew what would happen but he still bestowed upon us the gift of free choice, free will. To do in this life what we choose to do.

It must have broken God’s heart. He sees everything that has ever happened, is happening and will happen. His sorrow which cannot be born by any other is giving God an open wound. It kills him inside, as we few who have not strayed try to sooth the wound that we have sometimes helped to create.

I have said that I hate. Hate is such a strong word. It eats away at everything around it. It tears at the soul. I don’t like having to hate things in this world. My soul feels unclean, as if dipped in an oil of evil that saturates you will not only its grease but with a putrid smell that nothing can rid it of.

I don’t know how the people in this universe can stand it. If I could scream at them to go away, I would scream for all eternity as still find my rage falling upon deaf ears. I feel as though my soul and heart are screaming in unity but no one can hear it. No one can understand the pain you are in. No one can hear, so no one is ever listening.

How can anyone bear to be screaming that cannot be heard by anyone or anything? Who will it be, that breaks first? The pure of heart…the innocent or would it be those who partake in the destruction of mankind? When will we know? When will we be judged? When will everything be right once more with the world?

I’m in a cocoon of evil. It inhabits the very space around me. I can hardly breathe for the stench it emits that seeks to suffocate me. I HATE to HATE… I feel as though my heart has been smashed into a million pieces, of which there is no cure. God seems so far away… I am fighting to get out of my cocoon of destruction to feel the light of God on my face…To be filled with his love…

Oh people of the human race…why?” Dameon muttered to himself as he moved to and fro about his small cell. He would do this every night before exhaustion took him. Then in the morning he would rise and preach to the people of his church, their ears closed, their souls dead and dying. He could not get through to them and he knew that for each of them, judgment day was getting closer.

By night and day he was haunted by demons that hovered about him, waiting for a weakness to become clear. They had been sent by their master, a master of darkness, a master whose name Dameon would not mention. Every night he was in torment, the demons dark shapes flittering about the room. Every once in a while a greater demon would rise from hell to strike at the monk with his Whip of Shadows. And then Dameon’s soul would scream and scream unable to voice its torture except with the continuing ranting and condemnation of the Immortal Man of Darkness.

Dameon knew the Evil One recognized that he could see demons, see their effects on the people around him, and see them tearing away at people’s hearts leaving only festering decay behind. And because Dameon knew of the Evil One’s plan, the Ever Present Darkness had set his plans to break him.

Ch02: Waiting for the Morning Dawn

Rapul stood outside Monk Dameon’s small chamber and listened. He could only just make out the mutterings, and wondered why his Brother did this every night. He had know a long time that Brother Dameon was very different from the others, he seemed to be either more in tune with those who are immortal, or else, on the edge of madness. But Brother Rapul never strayed from his friend and Brother, and he took care of him as best he could. But recently, he had begun to worry…

Dameon’s ranting had increased, no longer was he able to fully comprehend where he was and what he was doing. His mind always seemed distracted as if a battle went on in his mind and would not stop. Brother Rapul bowed his head and gave a quick prayer to God to look after his servant, Dameon. Then he made his way quickly down the hall for midnight mass in the inner sanctum.

Slow and tiny footsteps made their way down the lengthy corridor to a room hidden in a seemingly normal section of a wooden wall. Entering the space, the figure pushed back his monks habit and sat. Around him stood ancient relics from the past all kept safe from the thoughts of greed that surrounded the sanctuary.

A lonely tear left the corner of his eye and ran down his old and wrinkled cheek. Soon he would pass on into heaven and have to leave his sacred charge. He would pass it on to his predecessor, whoever the Lord God would ordain to take his place. That man would have to take care of the ancient treasures of God’s work he left upon the earth. Among them were scrolls, aged but still strong with the holy words written upon them.

The high bell tolled to wake the monks from their slumber as the dawn sprinkled its light upon the earth. Dameon woke, ill rested and in sorrow. He could not fathom why he was so tormented. Slowly he rose from the small pallet on the floor and wandered out into the dim hall. His Brothers too, had woken and were making their way to partake of the morning meal. Dameon, as he did so often, turned in the other direction and followed his feet to the garden.

The birds twittered about him, fetching worms from beneath the dewed ground. Dameon sat down on a stone bench in the center of the raucous wildlife. He took a deep breath, smelling the gentle scents of the morning. His mind was at peace now, as he meditated, clearing his mind for the day ahead. It would not last long but it was the only comfort Dameon’s mind could have in the long battle against He Who Is Without Mercy.

Dameon looked up at the footsteps of someone else entering the garden. It was a monk Dameon did not know, but that was not surprising for the grounds of the sanctuary were large and well populated.

“Good morrow Brother.” The intruder upon Dameon’s peaceful privacy, greeted.

Dameon nodded back but did not speak.

“Why are you not at the morning meal Brother?” the other monk inquired, sitting uninvited next to Dameon on the stone seat.

“I have no need of food at this time.” Dameon replied quietly, struggling to stay the torments of his mind from returning.

“But surely food is an important necessity of life that should never be shunned.”

“I do not shun food, I simply dislike eating in the beauty of the morning.”

“It looks from your wan form that you believe in never eating.”

Dameon did not reply, already the battle against evil was trickling back into his mind.

“Well I will leave you now to the delight of the morning.” The monk stood, bowed his head slightly and retreated back through the entrance to the garden he had come from.

After an hour had passed, Brother Rapul found Dameon crawling around on the grass in the garden. His hands covered his ears and he mumbled under his breath.

“Dameon!” Rapul exclaimed, hurrying over to him. “What is the matter? What is it?”

Dameon did not stop his mumbled rants and Rapul, fearing that his friend had slipped into madness, carried him where he could receive help. Brother Rappel’s eyes prickled with tears. How could he have let Dameon get like this?