The Oak
The morning light wouldn't last for long. It never did in these days though, and the rolling thunder was a constant reminder. This morning, though brief, was beautiful. Although anguish quipped at my guilt, here I sat under the oak it's thick arms stretching out over the lands, holding the sky on its back. Here I sat, and for the first time watched the plains unfold before me; I was mesmerized at their sullen beauty. Dim black mists clung to rock and shrub alike, while patches of dead grass danced with the wind. The immutable sky overhead, although mocking, was thankfully blockaded by the sweeping leaves of the Oak, somewhat allowing me fragile body some protection from the ever-burning eye of god.
The breeze blew softly across my face; although I could see fairly well in the dim light, it was hard to focus on any one object for an extended period of time. Of course, after several throbbing headaches, Ii closed my eyes and tried my best to remove myself from the environment. The time I so desired was coming to an end, and all in all I still felt it would be best to reflect on my current state of affairs. ..I mean, we went beyond what our lord deemed right, we made him anew. And after all the theorizing, we gave up. Hundreds of years of mechanical engineering and thousands of years of metaphysical quandaries left us with nothing, so why should we have believed in you lord, you sallow ass.
A part of me, even through all the fear, couldn't help but spit spite at him. Of course, you of all the ancients would strike down your forgotten children in the moment we returned the favor.
My clothes were beginning to stick, a sure sign that the morning would soon disperse; although I had chosen this awful place to finally kill myself, the fear of withstanding the brutal environment riddled me with terror. Even though the overcast blackness lurked and toiled across the heavens, I felt as if it could be lifted in one great act of madness against my very being, and the burning would finally begin.
And with cowardice I gave in.
God... oh god please forgive me I beg you, please, I... I... stuttering I pleaded for mercy, why did you take my children away from me...why my mother and father, my neighbors, my town! The breeze, still soft, kissed my skin, and the proud oak stood still, giving what little protection it could from all else.
Where the tears fell skin reddened, I felt as if I was boiling. you won't forgive me, I mean, I don't even know why I'm the last one here. Shuddering, I coughed up more of the black.I'm not Job, and I never could be fucking christ I'm so scared to die. Still I stood in place, save for the rampant shivering that consumed my frame. By God how I awaited to see if my new master would come to my aid so I could abandon my quest.
Then deep, deep down I heard a terrestrial crack, and a booming guttural voice echoed through my soul, percussing against my bones. Frequencies I was unaccustomed to beat across my ears and through my chest, and it felt like a thousand doors were splintered under each stressed syllable. I struck the floor first with my right knee and then my face. As I rolled in pain I could see the angel who'd come to set me free. The oak, as I stared, curled back it's skin upon the center of its ocher trunk revealing an inner maw swirling with black and iron ichor its flesh cracked as it spoke into my being.
Gurgling, it uttered those words that, even for what little time I knew remained of my life, I would never forget: Why prostrate yourself before a being who cares so little for you, why feel such despair.. I screamed in silent agony as the monstrosity before me spoke, but oh like silk it smoothed my wounds ...tell me, where is the morning, and where is the sun, boy. The oak in its aberrant splendor paused, its leaves now staring through my squalid frame.
I,.. I speechless and still I stood in the deafening heat, which was advancing quickly. I could feel the moisture leaving my body. my spe I coughed, and tried again my people, my everything are gone there is a reason, there must be. Possibly I, I'm..maybe I'm not supposed to understa-. The oak, envious of my fragility, tore open the earth to my left and to my right. Roots, ripping free of gravity's chains, pierced the sky in defiance. And as I stared upon the living monolith before me, my flesh began to crack. Foolish boy, before time memorial I, in my own despair, froze my blood - yet here you see my soul unchained.
The lattice structure forming above and then behind me finally came round and circled my being, and slowly I was lifted off the floor, held up high in all forms of disarray and glory. I felt.. safe, even as the barbed fingers of the Oak gently writhed their way into my skin. A crimson sky began to tear through the cascading black madness above me, even now though I could scarcely remember the thunderous howls that sent chills down my spine before.
Now, boy, we shall see who has won. Listen to these words.. the Oak spoke through me, moving my lips in accord with its form. It brought me closer to its terrible mouth, and whispered into me ...curse the sun, and let your cries echo in the dark. In that moment, I was thrown. Words left me, although now I felt I had little need of them. I was flung far from the Oak, and it was then I felt the blood slowly clot around the outskirts of my body.
The sky tore through the shade my companion had supplied me with all through the night and morning, and as I began to fall back to the corroded ground, I could see my pale companion give me head. My body went slack against the rocks where I landed, and as I looked up from the dirt and stone shavings I stared into the eye of god and watched for the coming sign of my end. My skin smoking and my hair alight, sung for miles across the burgundy backdrop. I cried for the ones I had lost, and screamed for vengeance and for paradise as I gazed into that eye.
Then, I was silent. My body burned under the red sky and I, in my last utterances, mocked that dead god that cast me into chains of pain. Slowly my remnants drifted upwards and northwards, and I danced upon the tops of clouds. Above my mistakes, and above the failures of all others. But there the oak lay, defiant and afire, forever re-threading fate.
Where is the morning, where is the sun... an old man mocked, and the sunrise is gone
