"What were the last days like Uncle Bret?" Tommy asked.
"Well, they weren't any fun, I can tell you that," I began. "Imagine being confined to the indoors indefinitely because of constant darkness and pelting rain that becomes so loud your ears begin to ring, and your heart starts to pound. That's what the last days were like. Days that sickened your heart with fear. You couldn't help but get the feeling that something unseen and very bad was near, like a cancer.
"What was wrong with people, were they just mean?" Tommy pressed.
"Oh, Tommy, people were more than just mean. Seemed like everyone boiled with anger, and hatred raged between folks for no good reason. People began killing one another; supposed friends you know, even family members. Fact was, families didn't exist in the those last times, not like you think of a family now. Why, it got so bad, you couldn't walk alone even in the daylight, and you made sure the car doors were locked when stopped at a red light 'cause thugs would jump you quick if they saw a chance. There were no streets, no tree-lined boulevards, no open or private area safe any longer."
***
Me, and a small group of neighborhood kids were picnicking under a massive sugar maple in a beautiful park on the outskirts of Pirote, a pleasant, sleepy village in what was once, France, before the Storm came. The sky was a robin egg blue, and a gentle ocean breeze redolent with pleasant scents from the sea not enjoyed in centuries drifted in from the coast. The sun shone warm and bright, washing creation clean in its healing light, and colorful birds filled the air with unrestrained melody. The joy of living filled our very beings. We were happy. Across the stretch of lush meadow, we could see a gorgeous landscape stretching away to a crystal horizon.
"Please tell us more about the Storm, Uncle Bret. What was it? Why did God do it? Did it hurt?"
Seemed like kids were always asking me what it was like before the Storm. I suppose it was a natural curiosity for them, having never experienced anything like the Storm. But how could I fully describe that divinely wrought phenomenon to them. How do you explain a black terror that also delivered many from a wicked world? You just can't.
So, I related instead, some of the effects of the Storm; how it cleansed a dirty sky and produced the one they now gaze into. How it cleared the oceans of the brown crud of man's pollution, transforming the waters into pure and inviting seas. That explanation seemed to pacify the group for the moment, for they ceased pressing me for graphic details of the destruction. Afterwards, we fell silent and enjoyed the late afternoon calm.
When the evening shadows began creeping across the blanket of grass stretched out before us, we departed for our separate homes, unafraid of the encroaching darkness. I jogged the entire five miles home without strenuous effort, whereupon my wife, Ginger, greeted me at the back door of our lovely hillside chateau.
Few joys thrill me as much as the sight of my life's companion there on the verandah amid her favorite potted plants. How beautiful in form she is becoming, as when I first met her, before the Storm, when we both were young and in love. I knew from the moment I saw her that she would be my lifelong partner. But for the grace of God, our love endured the test of time and the Storm, while many of our family and friends survived neither.
As I lay in bed, under a canopy of millions of bright dots in the night sky with windows open and doors unlocked, I ponder the questions of those little ones today. How do I describe the contrast, the unprecedented turbulence of the Storm and the calm we now enjoy?
***
From turmoil within the troubled human heart, to external unleashed elements wringing the earth itself, the Storm evades my best adjectives. When people realized what was happening, many could only ask how could man ever let things get that bad and wonder why someone didn't do something before it was too late? All were asking those questions, even as the Storm swept in.
Not that it mattered, but the flaw in the collective minds of men, of shrugging responsibility for their timeless misdeeds, and failing to take corrective measures before reaching the point of no return. Both contributed to the demise of human endeavor. Countless times in history, such mentality had spelled disasters on individual and national scales. But the horror of the Storm equalized all human enterprises, and disregarded cries for personal salvation in its furious appetite for men unprepared.
In the last moments before the Storm swept the gathering multitudes, masses of humans lined up for deliverance that never arrived. They looked to those in authority; the clergy, the lawyer, the government official, all to no avail. To the end, the groping masses insisted on believing that safety was near, failing to recognize the truth that imminent destruction was upon them. Except for a relative few that survived by providence, the majority of mankind went the way of annihilation while still clutching the failed illusion of deliverance.
How blessed these little ones are not to have to deal with the horrors of that time. How difficult to explain the worldwide anarchy that took place. How, for many, the global chaos granted a license to steal, plunder and kill. Having no conscious thought or qualms that the conditions would claim them also, wicked men struck out with inhuman savagery.
The complete loss of social control on all fronts toppled political systems earth wide. Placing blame on the political aspirations and deeds of any one people or government is enticing, but the real guilt lie with individuals who insisted on unguided personal moral choice, which resulted in untold misery for human family throughout his sordid existence. But the global death wail that befell all nations this time, came from some place far removed from human judgment. Ultimately, man had only himself to blame. In the end, he was barren of any system that offered order.
Everything held sacred, morally legitimate or not, was now rendered invalid. All his ideals and self appointed standards came to nothing.
In very literal ways as well, man was left in the dark. No electricity, no potable water, no police. No notices of late payments on the mortgage or car. No home left to mortgage or car to drive. No job to go to. No bosses. Certainties were reduced to death in the streets by madmen who now had nothing to lose and satiated savage lusts to gain. I wonder how many would have welcomed a quick death if they had known what was yet to come.
Sadly, most did not resign themselves to the inevitability of death, by the hands of a former friend, or to be summarily dispatched indiscriminately by red-eyed maniacs that stalked each other and others. Many believed these death-wielding men were sent as part of the Storm and I am not so sure that they weren't.
The mayhem that followed surged like a swelling cancerous wave throughout the lands for what seemed months. In reality, the scourge passed quickly to be followed by the real force of the Storm.
In my few scant years on the earth, I have seen intense thunderstorms and awesome lightning strikes. I know well the tremendous atmospheric forces that propel such global, climatic disturbances as hurricanes, typhoons and raging floods. But I had seen nothing. These devastating weather anomalies were spring drizzles in contrast to the Storm.
The string of ominous changes that ensued included conglomerations of swirling, ashen clouds that blotted out much of the visible sky. Beneath this dark vaporous gathering of angry clouds, fire filled windstorms rioted across the earth's surface, obliterating all evidence of man. Enormous fireballs rising thousands of feet into the thick gloom engulfed entire cities and communities as they advanced, their movement guided by an unseen hand. Few men escaped.
My description is placid, of necessity, for there are no words to adequately describe these events. Imagine that men prayed for death before the Storm struck. None were answered.
Funny. The eventuality of the Storm was a thought that lie buried deep in the minds of men since antiquity The final form the Storm would assume was a matter of speculation influenced by mythology, culture, tradition or religion. Human consciousness recognized that the Storm would one day arrive with centuries-collected vengeance. And yet, when the time finally did arrive, men acted surprised, then annoyed, then indignant.
The Storm afforded no warning to men or nation. When it struck, all human activity ceased. It did not wait for the greedy businessman to complete one last commission of dishonesty. It ignored the college student with only one semester left until graduation. It afforded no comfort to the recent retiree desirous of enjoying the fruits of his labor. It interrupted or negated all political endeavors, all social movements on all fronts. It equalized every conscious thought, every deed and misdeed, every emotion. The lofty thinking of intellectuals pined away with the stupid. No human endeavor mattered any longer. Ultimate futility had arrived.
The destruction was swift and total. In what seemed no more than the passing of a day, the winds that fueled the Storm abated, followed by wonderful calm. The charcoal colored choking clouds that hovered above the windstorm machine cleared away, and a marvelous stillness began to permeate the earth. Those of us fortunate enough to survive, rediscovered a peace not seen on the earth since the time of Earth’s creation. Though the physical evidences of man lay decimated, the earth itself rejoiced aloud in its newfound cleansed state.
Gradually, survivors of the Storm found each other amid the rubble, and by providence, came to number in the millions earth wide. Looking back at that time, we all wondered in amazement that anybody survived at all. Initially, the concerted efforts of all survivors was required to clean up the vast amounts of debris, but after a few years, a sense of normalcy began to peek through the devastation wrought by the Storm.
That cataclysmic event occurred more than 200 years ago. Although there is still much restoration to accomplish, no one is in a hurry, for the abstract concept of time no longer dictates human itinerary.
Today, I have the privilege of announcing the names of those returning from the grave; over 1000 individual souls in our center alone. Resurrections are systematically, occurring at similar centers around the earth numbering nearly 2 million daily.
The expressions of bewilderment and then joy on the faces of those returning are heartwarming to all. Reunited with loved ones, these ones who had been asleep in death, are now presented with the marvelous opportunity that the living already enjoy, the prospect of everlasting life.
My best friend Martin is accompanying me on a cross-country excursion on foot. We will stay with friends along the way, enjoining our kindred spirit with theirs, all of our needs unselfishly provided for by the kindness of those we meet. We won't require money, (there is no need of a monetary system now). Whether trekking through the forests that have begun reclaiming their rightful title as landowners, or hiking the pristine verdant hills that grace the landscape, we harbor no fear of man or beast.
On our third day out, we encountered a lone stag foraging in the forest near Buinte. The animal exhibited no fear of us as we approached with handfuls of tasty berries. Hearing a shuffling noise in a nearby thicket, we turned to see a female black bear come forward to join in the treat. We playfully wrestled with the frisky animals for a time, and then moved on. Later that day we played hide and seek with mischievous raccoons that darted back and forth across the mountain trail. The forest fauna and denizens that reside here are delightful and perfect and this communion with nature restored. It is food for our souls.
And speaking of food. The good earth yields her bounty of luscious fruits and vegetables; tomatoes so large they require two hands to hold, melons that cannot be lifted by hand and peaches that hang heavy with sweetness. No one is in want of hunger anymore. Such pleasures are reality in the new earth. All creation lives to full potential without interruption from sickness or death.
Where else could we have gone? Perhaps with the billions of humans that perished in the Storm. We could have, but we didn't. We were spared. And now we form the nucleus of a new society. Yes, we will proliferate as before. Yes, we will build a viable society as before. But we shall not die, as before. We will not shiver in the darkness, for there is no more darkness shrouding the earth or mankind. All is perfect, perfect is all.
We stride into the infinite future, confident of knowing what lies ahead, for we have been enlightened. The universe awaits us, and eventually, we may reach for the stars themselves, filling the voids of space and time with love and perfection as was intended. Not such an impossibility, as we now possess the key to eternity. From the ticking seconds of wasted lives that once was our inheritance, to the fulfillment of perfection stretching into eternity, we, and the earth, have been transformed.
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
The second book in the telepathy series. It contains more ways for the up and coming telepathist to experiment with the sending and receiving of thoughts and is at the end of the story about future telepathy people found unexpectedly chosen by the go
