Chapter 2: The Fall
“It is not Dark nor is it black , but it is gloomy there is
certainly a shade of black or grey covering my eyes, is it painful ? I don’t
know…… how about I stick a hot rusty rod into the small of your back so it
pierces your heart and then I can ask you the same thing. I see them, all of
them…. They are all here, they all forgot about their petty rivalries and their
illusions of granger and they all came to say their last goodbyes – I prefer
see ya later – but today isn’t about me now is it ?....is it? Hollywood and TV had
us believe that the pain is constant, everlasting like a hot burning fire and that suddenly a grey filter will be
dropped in front of our eyes until we burst into hysteric, almost psychotic
laughter thus bringing back exploding colors… that is not true, the pain isn’t
constant otherwise no one would have survived this, people will laugh, I will
laugh loudly and full heartedly and then the laughter stops and distraction
ends and the same feeling of an everlasting ending comes back with the question,
and there is no grey filter life with all its bursting colors, with all the
people coming and going, with all …… all….. all the LIFE goes on, which keeps
reminding you that the Earth stops for no one. I told you earlier that there is
no grey filter but there is a certain shade of grey or black covering my eyes,
contradictory isn’t it ? your brain, the source of your confidence and also
arrogance is pointing this out like a sore thumb , a red light, boasting and
gloating that you found a mistake but you didn’t because that is what happens
the certainty of life gets replaced by unreasonable ambiguity: repeating the question
once is never enough ……… because the answer never changes, instead of the
changeless daily rotation you face every day, you get a swift and abrupt
reminder of how surprisingly quick it is and logic along with reason depart so
that hysteria and disorientation can settle in taking their place, a lucky
Blessed few face this with patience and calm. There are two types of angry men ,I
once read those, who lash out when they feel angry right away and the dangerous
ones. The dirt buffs up whenever we take a step there is a large number of
people here and most of them are asking questions that don’t really matter? I
cannot blame them…… a green sprout almost knocked me over, it came out of the dark
ground and went back in creating a loop, it was bright brown almost red and
green defiantly breaking the hard ground ……… mockingly looking at me , I could
have sworn I saw it raise a finger and revel in our pain……… IN MY PAIN, I
wanted to kick it out of the ground to pull it out with both hands exposing its
roots to the unforgiving sun and wind then I would dump it unceremoniously to
the side ; everyone would trample on it and then I would look at its
undignified former shell and raise a finger and revel in its pain……… I did no
such thing and I thought of no such Ideas, I simply marched on, I brought out
my notebook scratched a name off , covered it completely in black Ink so that I
may never have to read it again, and a small voice inside my head mockingly said
“as if that would help.”, I remember part of the page changed from beaten old dusty
yellow to dark wet yellow for ……… I …… I was ……… for some reason!!!! and I
closed the notebook and said to the person next to me the “FALL” claimed a lot
of my brothers and he raised a finger as a sign that his brain told him “OHH WE
HAVE FOUND A MISTAKE CORRECT HIM SO WE CAN FEEL GOOD ABOUT OURSELVES…” and as
he opened his mouth to say that “it’s the fight after the fall and no the fall”,
I shoot him; the bullet curved a see through tunnel that connected the air
outside the back of his head with the air inside his mouth, penetrating the
emptiness in between. And with that hole I reminded everyone once more before
the feeling even faded away of how sudden it was. And how fast He was.”
“WOOOOOW!!! MAN that is gruesome, people went through a lot After the Fall” Jack said as he looked up from the page he was reading to the man people called the Prophet , the faintest hint of a smile at the seams of his mouth only noticeable by that man; “Micro expressions” the Prophet thought to himself, then Jack looked back down and continued “ it reads on to say that he calmly put his gun back in its holster, and marched on, he kind of even went into detail of how most of the people marched on, almost as if nothing happened but he emphasizes two that some did flinch and that he corrected a wrong that this is how it should have happened that the old should go before the young.”
“How can it be kind of and in details its either he meticulously described it or he didn’t ?” the Prophet shot off interrupting “ well he actually is pretty good at half doing things I guess that is what happens when you are in his situation, and stop it with the aggressive questions you are sounding like me?” Jack replied jokingly “Yes I am sounding like a show off who needs attention like he needs air, and FYI you are showing sympathy for a classic case of psychosis.” The Prophet said with a smirk on his face and a dance in his eyes; Jack gave it half a thought to wipe that smirk of his face then he reminded himself that this isn’t business and he should draw a line in the sand especially when it came to old friends “ you are saying those people, those who suffer from psychosis I mean, don’t deserve sympathy?” he said reassuring himself that he followed his own rules and didn’t fully attempt trying to wipe that smirk off his face, the Prophet realized what was happening and said “ No of course not I am not saying that at all but consider that there is a guy in there who just got shot , that guy!! deserves sympathy ,” then he continued on to say “but I can see that you are not biting …… growing old huh?” he threw his bait for the last time , hoping his friend would bite but Jack shot back wittingly “growing wise, and I thought you are the one in the room people called the Prophet” knowing people’s buttons was a soft skill that he was both grateful for and proud of having and with that sentence the so called and claimed by the masses Prophet’s smirk got whipped, he gave him a look that they both understood, and he almost felt that he could see the hate and awkwardness he carried towards that title materialize and take form with them on the green old walls of this dusty single bed room , a not awkward silence went on for a couple of seconds and then (he) asked “ when do you think this was written?” “Probably between the fifth and eighth year A.F” Jack answered in his unsure but surprisingly accurate way of answering questions that he only knows half the answers too, “It’s been so long….”(either play the pronoun game or say his name) he said reminiscently “it was a simpler time back then, an easier time, more organized.” (he) continued “You think?” Jack asked both sarcastically and with a clear objecting tune “I don’t know…………when am I sure of anything these days?
“WOOOOOW!!! MAN that is gruesome, people went through a lot After the Fall” Jack said as he looked up from the page he was reading to the man people called the Prophet , the faintest hint of a smile at the seams of his mouth only noticeable by that man; “Micro expressions” the Prophet thought to himself, then Jack looked back down and continued “ it reads on to say that he calmly put his gun back in its holster, and marched on, he kind of even went into detail of how most of the people marched on, almost as if nothing happened but he emphasizes two that some did flinch and that he corrected a wrong that this is how it should have happened that the old should go before the young.”
“How can it be kind of and in details its either he meticulously described it or he didn’t ?” the Prophet shot off interrupting “ well he actually is pretty good at half doing things I guess that is what happens when you are in his situation, and stop it with the aggressive questions you are sounding like me?” Jack replied jokingly “Yes I am sounding like a show off who needs attention like he needs air, and FYI you are showing sympathy for a classic case of psychosis.” The Prophet said with a smirk on his face and a dance in his eyes; Jack gave it half a thought to wipe that smirk of his face then he reminded himself that this isn’t business and he should draw a line in the sand especially when it came to old friends “ you are saying those people, those who suffer from psychosis I mean, don’t deserve sympathy?” he said reassuring himself that he followed his own rules and didn’t fully attempt trying to wipe that smirk off his face, the Prophet realized what was happening and said “ No of course not I am not saying that at all but consider that there is a guy in there who just got shot , that guy!! deserves sympathy ,” then he continued on to say “but I can see that you are not biting …… growing old huh?” he threw his bait for the last time , hoping his friend would bite but Jack shot back wittingly “growing wise, and I thought you are the one in the room people called the Prophet” knowing people’s buttons was a soft skill that he was both grateful for and proud of having and with that sentence the so called and claimed by the masses Prophet’s smirk got whipped, he gave him a look that they both understood, and he almost felt that he could see the hate and awkwardness he carried towards that title materialize and take form with them on the green old walls of this dusty single bed room , a not awkward silence went on for a couple of seconds and then (he) asked “ when do you think this was written?” “Probably between the fifth and eighth year A.F” Jack answered in his unsure but surprisingly accurate way of answering questions that he only knows half the answers too, “It’s been so long….”(either play the pronoun game or say his name) he said reminiscently “it was a simpler time back then, an easier time, more organized.” (he) continued “You think?” Jack asked both sarcastically and with a clear objecting tune “I don’t know…………when am I sure of anything these days?
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