This story bothers on the constant warring in our minds. I hope it blesses you.
I immediately recognized him from reality, where he would pass for an athlete. Here, on his white tee, khaki-colored trousers and white, orange and black colored sneakers, he resembled one who had been at variance with the gym all his life. I wondered why one who would pass for an athlete in reality happened to be so out of shape here. Maybe this was life at its realest.
The usually inert bodies seemed to breathe their quota into the universe’s being. The aluminium can Wone lifted to his lips seemed to attach itself rather than be held in his left palm; the content – of which was the source of the single stain on his shirt – leaping out of the can and into his throat as soon as it was lifted to his lips, not waiting to be poured out. His other wears were the army green-colored hat shielding him from the sun’s blistering rays, allied by his sunglasses. Seeing he was right-handed, I wondered why he put his penknife in his trouser’s left side pocket.
Apart from his relaxed outlook, Wone had a carefree demeanor; like the myriads of life defining activities occurring round him were of little consequence to him. His friend Thwo on the other hand, had an air of determination about him, like everything he owned was at stake; even his life. With his focus split in two directions: he maintained grimness on the task ahead, softened into a plea when he turned right to his friend in attempt to acquaint him with the gravity/enormity of the task to be completed, and his preparation’s importance.
Thwo had a white vest as his friend, only visible through the top of his black, green and brown colored shirt. A black leather belt, which would only break under some immense force, firmly held up his trousers, which bore a similar pattern to his shirt. His dark colored leather boots, reaching halfway to his knees, a helmet with a star ensign, a right-handed weapon, and left-handed shield would do well to shield him from attacks, despite which he wore a protective sheet over a part of his chest. He also left a palm-sized book in his left breast pocket over his heart, leaving no chance to fate.
Approaching these two and the many others around them miles ahead was a horde of vicious looking creatures: like nothing I’d ever seen. They stank of destruction, with no order about their form, no defined framework or skeleton; most were double-limbed, some triple, quadruple, with a few possessing five, six limbs of uneven lengths with which they limped, ran, staggered, hit, lifted, smashed whatever they would. As replacements for eyes, ears, noses, came pores of varying proportions with which they sensed light, shape, sound, size and position. These had no life in them; all they did was take it. They were unnatural beings willing to terminate everything natural they came across. With these creatures came darkness, sifting through the atmosphere, rapidly sucking life out of the trees, seas, birds and other such living non-humans. As the rampaging horde staggered along, behind stood their leader on a hill observing, and screaming out orders with a voice like a roaring lion’s, sending shivers down spines, for those who had them. In a good life he’d be an exceptional vocal performer. Unlike the horde, he had the features of a man, albeit a contorted one: with the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, framework of a man. With eyes as farseeing as the eagles he could clearly see the approaching army of men and women. The sight of the partially dressed ones parted his lips and exposed his dead stained teeth in a grin, replaced by a frustrated frown when he saw men and women like Thwo, guarded to their teeth. They gave him a feeling of hopelessness at causing them any harm, though he resolved still to try.
The army of men also had a leader, one who would pass for a servant but for the glory surrounding him. He needed no armor, no weapon. His make-up fizzled out every attack aimed in his direction. With the knowledge of being invincible, he moved in and about the army, attending to anyone who requested his attention, supplying armors and weapons to those who needed and asked, helping them wear their armors, offering his instructions and counsel on how best to fight the battle, and unlike the evil leader, he headed into the battle with his men.
With the direction and speed at which these parties moved, they were deemed to meet at an expansive/enormous crater like hollow, north of the men and south of the beasts – as it turned out. Anyone who attempted walking into the grounds without having on a pair of well tracked boots, tumbled in, hurting themselves thereby. The evil horde slid, tumbled, rolled in at will, charged towards the human army, spurred on by the longing to destroy and destruct. The six limbed demons stealthily approached the most guarded men in attempt to find an almost impossible-to-find weakness. The five and four limbed ones attacked the less but still reasonably guarded ones. The double and triple limbed demons charged for the least guarded me; some of which had stumbled into the grounds due to their lack of proper footwear. The men with the well threaded boots walked in successfully requiring no extra effort; while those who wore no boots and beheld the beginning of the end of those who had walked in barefooted or without proper footwear, remained on the edge of the ground and called out to the captain. Many others on beholding the brewing battle resigned and ran back from the grounds. But as many as chose to stay and fight, to them power was given to fight and win in the Battlefield of the Mind.
First time Wone and Thwo met with their captain, he’d handed them each a white vest, a helmet and a palm sized book and stressed the significance of them all. He needed the vest spotless, the helmet worn always, and the book kept close to the heart. Those who kept this charge qualified to ask for and receive more armor. Unlike Wone, Thwo adhered to these precepts, and along came the belt, the boots, the weapon, the breastplate, the handheld shield and everything else he owned.
The helmet was his salvation, the breastplate his sanctification, the belt the truth he believed, the boots the gospel of peace, the weapon the Word, the shield faith. He was an all round ‘be-liver’ of the truth.
To be cont’d…