All I can see is darkness, my body is exhausted and my mind is weary from the constant battle. My armor weighs me down slowing me with each step I take. I stop and lean against a long dead tree. It was once vibrant full of life or so I assumed but now it’s dead and lifeless. Everything in this place is like that. Something inside me tells me I should know this place, or better yet know what it was once, but I don’t. I’m lost in a land I don’t know. I cannot even begin to find my way out of this desolate place. Every turn and every path is the same dark, lonely and barren.
I can hear the mocking cry of a jackal in the distance, he’s been stalking me for days but he’s not alone other more sinister beings lurk in the shadows as well. I feel them staring at me from the darkness, they whisper in the wind chilling my mind with thoughts and images that are not my own. I at least hope they are not my own thoughts. They are to dark and hopeless to be my own. How could ones own thoughts strike fear and loathing in their own soul? I ask myself this question but I hear nothing but the howling wind in response. I fear I’m losing my mind. I have been going in circles in the darkness each moment is worse then the first. I can’t focus, I can’t think. I try to eat but my stomach reviles at the thought.
I raise my head to look to heaven, but I can’t see through all the storm clouds raging above me. I sigh and slump down on the nearest rock. Why would God bother to hear me anyways? I never was able to be what he wanted me to be. Everything we have ever been told to be by him I failed at. The fear and anxiety set in, as each moment ticks by another wave of fear and anxiety increases in intensity. My soul cry’s out in expectation. I don’t know what I expect. Maybe I expect a flash of light and instant parting of the storm clouds. I look up and see them still swirling, flashing with lightning as each minute passes. I can hear the crows cawing as they swarm around me gathering to watch and stare. They mock me as if they know something I don’t. They prance back and forth in front of me their black beady eyes seem to stare into me. They are waiting; it’s just a matter of time before my worst fears come to life.
I slump back and let my sword rest against my chest. I notice then the blood and grime that stain the blade. I don’t remember fighting but the sword tells me otherwise. A fear grips me wandering who or what fell to my blade this time. It seems all the battles I have fought as of late have cost me dearly. I look back and see, fallen loved ones, lost hope, shattered love all at my hands. I close my eyes and let the tears flow freely. I don’t care anymore I’m lost and I just want to go home.
The hand resting on my shoulder is warm and comforting. I jump startled as I turn to see who else is lost in this dark and desolate land. I looked up and as I do my swords fall to the cold ground with a clatter. The love and understanding on his face is overwhelming. I fall to my knees as the tears flow freely. There is no condemnation no disappointment in those eyes.
“Follow me my son” He turned and waited for me
“Where to…?” I asked as I slowly picked up my fallen swords.
“Leave those behind they are the very things that have caused this world you are in…” He motions to the desolate land around us. I can see the scar that ripped through his hand as his extended it.
“I don’t understand” I looked around and saw the storm brewing all around the winds whipping in a frenzy scattering dust and debris across the barren landscape.
“The weapons you use to defend yourself are the very things that destroy your world and your soul in the process… leave them behind and Follow me …”
I dropped my swords and started to follow but I saw the storm and the crows still mocking me. The jackal’s cry suddenly echoed loudly in my ears. I paused in fear and doubt looking at the barren landscape all around me.
“It doesn’t bother me and it shouldn’t bother you either… It’s time to go home and rest” He turned and wrapped his arm around me slowly directed me in the direction he wanted me to go.
“I had another son just like you. His name was Simon but I later renamed him Peter. He too spent time worrying about the storm…. The Poor boy almost drown once cause of it….”