Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29275171-20181111051520

"What a chaos. How could it have gone all wrong?" I cried out. No response, so I took note of the other things, peered out into the open sky, a sheer expanse of blue, and down below, a sea of darker blue. Blue, I thought, not a color I’d seen in quite a span of time. It was refreshing, yet so grim all at once! Knowing the context of this blue, I grew sad, weary of what was to come next. The impact has diminished somewhat now, but the fallout, the fallout remains. I looked to my immediate left and right, saw to my west little but a jagged rocky surface, seasoned by so many folks trampling upon it with little care for the ground beneath them. “They came to appreciate it in time,” I murmured. The floods had made sure of that. Oh how they pleaded when the waves crashed upon them, they kissed the ground and yelled like furies. Unlike the bleak thoughts of the stone, to my east, was a remnant of times long gone.

A cozy little cottage, somehow surviving the great disastrous floods, though not without damage, I saw it as a landmark, for future generations. But that puzzled me, was there man or woman still out there? Or had God’s will really been done? The question was a pressing one, nudging me to intently inspect the house. The discovery was a curious one. Nothing had been wrecked, it was preserved entirely! It had cobwebs and dust sprinkled heavily throughout the walls and floors, which groaned the sorrow of the many peoples lost to the rains. Couches, kitchens, all calling back to times of old. Times of peace. After a time, my investigation appeared over. It occurred to me though that my mind still had misgivings about this place. 

That was when I noticed a letter. It was addressed to a ‘Mr. Simon Tyran’. I shall proceed to paraphrase, for I’m afraid I do not have enough time. “My leader, I beg your divine pardon, but have you no benevolence? You slaughter and conquer, destroy. Worst of all is your ability to create, oh God, for you create such beasts and monsters, and yet you have little understandings of their consequence! And your creations destroy, conquer and slaughter! Art, culture, all of it has been brought to its knees by your reign! I fear, Tyran, that these actions are not without retribution. There are ramifications for he who plays God, for he is more powerful than you. You know nothing, Mr. Tyran.” Following this, I felt many emotions, all playing in a sequence within my demented head. One grew dominant, however, an overwhelming ecstasy. Tyran, that was me. I was Simon Tyran!!! An authority, a man more powerful than the heavens! One who controls the world, humanity, the seas, the earth, it all.

I had a fine sleep, but I dreamt of immense destruction and warfare, it both pleased me and disgusted me. The sound of gunfire, bombings, cries of those falling. It felt so strangely familiar. Like a thought in the corner of the mind, but I was sure my brain had blotted it out on purpose, as if it would provide some new context that would crush my understanding of events. Tyran did not fight on the front lines, Tyran fought through puppets. I was now paranoid. Had God himself all placed this reality in my mind, was I still in power, crushing my opponents and people without a care? No, I assured myself. This was his plan, no mere mortal could have survived this, that would be the fallout, I was chosen by God, no doubt, to rebuild from scratch, just as Noah before me. 

They came at dawn. The whispers in the air were followed by their arrival. Terrible creatures of the night. Victims, temptations. Most likely came from the far expanse of stone. My bloodshot eyes looked towards them, staring at their miserable arrival. I refused to greet them or speak to them face to face, for I knew they looked to be too real. They sounded like people I knew, said what I wanted to hear. “Come back to us!” or “Please, this is all over, we love you.” But I knew it was all a lie. Just lies. They spoke to me like a friend, a fact that angered me. I knew nothing of them, nor did I care to, so why then did they pretend to know me!?! I reminded myself, there’s is no way to speak in the face of Simon Tyran, ruler of the world! I resisted for forty days, and forty days they attempted to reach to me. My madness grew and grew, myself isolated. The only thing keeping me sane was the knowledge that God wanted to see me succeed, he had planned for all this after all. There was no way those people could be real, how could anyone have survived the floods? Eventually, I recognized that this was the devil’s work, akin to his temptation of Jesus for forty days.

Throughout these many trying hours, thoughts occurred to me. I came to refer to myself as the Puppeteer, for I was he who could pull strings. Before it all, I could raise an army and send them to their deaths with my sheer voice, I could press a button, and millions would be lost. I could control diplomacy between peoples, so that it came to my advantage. I was falling further from grace, I felt more and more tempted to believe these people real.

Then I realized, the Lord had seen this as a challenge! He brought this upon me, in order to show me who was truly in power, the villain! It came to my understanding that I could defy him, I was no mere servant, I would not just play God. I was God. The fate of many rested upon me, and so I would resist the temptations no longer. He believed it was all according to his plan, not knowing his very own creation could create, could have a plan of his own. The plan I adopted, would now come into conflict with his. Each day I came to hate his being more and more until it reached a breaking point. I would no longer be a puppet, but a puppeteer, once and for all.

The clock struck loudly, announcing true the fortieth day. Now enraged, I flung open the delicate door, rushed outside. The moonlight shone upon the stone brilliantly, but I knew even that, that was grotesque in true form. I pushed past the retreating….things...their faces distorting in disgust, as they solemnly shook their heads and went back to whatever hell they came from. I ran to the shoreline, falling to my knees, with my unkempt hair blowing chaotically in the powerful breeze.

I screamed out to him; “Oh Father, how little you know! You think you can test and play with me as a little toy?! Lord, I am God, I can and will exceed your abilities, and you are afraid. I’m sure you didn’t expect your own creation, a descendant of the foolish Adam, would one day challenge you and win? I am your humble servant no longer, I am no longer in your arms to do your work, destruction, creation. It is my work now.” I received no reply, but continued on the brave monologue. “As you have failed, God, I expect your passing on of the heavens to me, it appears you have only proven my competence and your incompetence. I ask, what shall be your reply, O Fallen One? I ask - no command you to strike me down if you dare!” No response. I laughed and shook my fist in the air. “Then it is settled. I am truly a God.” 

'''It’s been two hours since then; the skies turn darker by the minute, clouds a plenty. The rains have started again, and haven’t been stopping. I suppose I was right, the fallout really is a mystery. As for me, I’ve resigned to my fate. He did as I commanded, so it is I who enjoys the last laugh. The rest, is in God’s hands.'''  