#dailyscenes

It’s dawn and the sun shines through the surfaces of the whole monastery with cotton rays, embracing me softly with the mellow warmth of its morning glow. In the middle of one pathway, I sat atop a cubical slab facing a small pond where a small sandpiper watched my routine. The leaves of the trees, shielding my head, rustled along the gentle gust of circumventing winds. I could feel my ears dulling, swamped by the noise of crashing water from the waterfall to my right. Here, curious bamboo shoots whistled in the background, accompanying the white noise. How pleasant.

I take deep breaths and start meditating. Then, in seconds, I enter peace.

My thoughts became cloudy, my body relieved.

OPERATION MOSES REPORT 8th Div., 153rd Brigade TORQUE

From Col. Richard Poly Subject: “HEAVEN AND HELL ON EARTH”

Immediately, after briefly receiving command of the brigade, I sent a fragmented order to immobilize all units moving towards point Foxtrot and Alpha. Major General Hopkins is deceased, and the operation has been lost. There is no hope. The series of events below for documentation.

Shortly after arriving in point Foxtrot at time 21:35, our regiment was dispatched to examine the devil’s mouth that is St. Peter’s Basilica. Traces of occupants lead us to a hidden tunnel of descending stairs. As per standard, we then divided our group into 4 units to better scour the mysterious hallways. They seemed to branch infinitely underground. They paired me with Major Frettson to lead our squadron.

We walked cautiously through our part of the maze when we gradually started hearing faint religious hymns in the distance. I approved the movement to proceed towards the singing, the major concurred. The objective of the operation was the capture and retraining of all cathedral elders. We were convinced that we’ve found their location. Radios have been sent.

Our squad approached the area, first blinded by vivid blood red light beyond well shaped arcs on the room’s facade. It filled the fringe of an enormous domed auditorium, along with a crowd endowed in black hooded robes. As our vision began to settle in, the face of true mankind’s horror saw us pale. Buildings tall of sculpted seraphs pointing lined the rims of the middle expanse. I see the major lower his gun in hopeless scrutiny as he glared at the colossal presence of what’s in front.

A priest gowned in white exclaimed resounding prayers with vocal solidity.

Above him was a titan, being internally classified as JESUS, hanging bruised, facing down, and chained. A cluster of spikes from the borders impaled his body throughout. Dry, there was no blood.

“I thank You, O holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God, who have deigned, not through any merits of mine, but out of the condescension of Your goodness, to grant me a sinner, your unworthy servant, authority over our brethren, over the world.”

It was a Monday. We were walking hand-in-hand along the train tracks nestled in between the woods. The early morning sunshine bliss seeped through the valley. It embraced everything with its warm, welcoming glow.

Where were we headed?

How much longer will we go?

Will someone come find us?

Will the train get here first?