The Last Nail

“Elias wake up!” A gnarled hand minus a ring finger slaps his cheek, then grabs hold of his right arm, tugging… “get your ass out of bed, they need you, they need you real bad!” A saintly voice echoes over and over inside his already vexed brain.

Oh boy, another mind bender, one more hallucination stacked on top of all the others. Why won’t they slack their grip on me? I realize their plan is to conscript a whirlwind and deal me off into a portal or another dimension… which, if you think about it, might not be so bad, after all, reality is just an illusion with the emotion removed. Elias quips to himself.

“Elias come downstairs and grab some lunch,” a gruff voice bellows from the kitchen. “I’m reheating fish and two loaves of mana bread left over from the large party on the hill.” With trepidation Elias meanders after the smell emitting from below. “Son, how you feeling? That was quite a pickle you got yourself into back in them there woods. I sent a few of my followers forthwith to find you. They carried you back, using the limbs you were sleeping on...” “Yeah, I’m fine Dad, thanks for knowing beforehand that I would need you.” In case you didn’t pick up on it, there is a bit of father and son rivalry growing here. “Well, son I hope that you’re rested up after sleeping for three days, I thought you were dead. Any hoo, I need you to finish the edition on the fourth floor, our family is expanding, and we need an extra chamber in this mansion. Remember, as I have mentioned before, always be sure to set the nails flush when nailing down the floor, we don’t want a disciple tripping… cause, everyone is sue happy now days! By the way, your new job as caretaker is going to be a big boost for the saint’s morale.” Now, Elias loves his dad, almost as much as himself; but there are times, not many, where an entity needs some me time.

 Elias always found himself tethered to his Dad’s side coupled with the upmost respect. He had been reared with a heavy hand due to his strong will and penchant for a flash temper. Trust and obey was the only discourse for everyday home life, though at times the two of them would butt heads; this is to be expected since they are one. This caused a great conflict, and Elias often felt subjugated.           

 Renovating the fourth floor       

           Elias is a master carpenter by trade, so therefor he took charge of overseeing the entire construction project; but work progressed at a snail’s pace due to lethargic behavior from the labor force, coupled with disobedience. This master bedroom would feature a large spacious area, possessing a high open cathedral ceiling supported by massive hand-hewn barn beams inlaid with gold leaf. He enjoyed all aspects of construction, such as pounding nails and deciphering blueprints, ones which his Dad authored. Yes, carpentry was in his wheelhouse, so to speak. There wasn’t much he couldn’t accomplish if he set his mind on it. His muscular build fancied him well for carrying a dozen eight-foot studs at a time up two flights of steps, not to mention the thirty sheets of plywood that it took to sheet in the roof.

       One day, Dad being the taskmaster that he is, gave Elias a simple charge; “Elias, I need you to nail down the subfloor in the new bedroom. Remember to make sure that you set all the nails, don’t let any of them protrude or someone might snag their foot.” Elias was rife with contempt; he knew how to set a nail!  Sometimes, seemly out of nowhere, feelings of despondency would rush over him in a feverish pout. It was always the small issues that seemed to fester and pop, creating a choleric Temperament in Elias.

         Later that same day, while Elias worked in the bedroom loft, Dad tiptoed up the spiral staircase which corked-screwed into heavens floor… quiet as a church deacon stuffing his pockets. He stood in the doorway, observing Elias’s every move. Elias sensed that he was there, but it didn’t startle him in the least; not that he would let it be known anyway. But still, it stirred a firestorm of disgust in his soul. More fuel on the fire.

Without saying a word, Dad causally walked into the room with his fingers hooked into his jean pockets; smugly strutting over to inspect the flashing around the outside of the sliding door which Elias had just installed. Grasping the inside of the door jamb with his right hand he leaned out, peering down into a torrid world, he contorted his body to gaunter a look at Elias’s handiwork.

The next twenty seconds would change the course of Elias’s life forever!

Elias, dear Elias, what in God’s name are you thinking? Suddenly, a rush of toxic adrenaline overtook his senses fueled by a budding disrespect for his Dad’s authority. That onery ol’ cuss, he mumbled to himself… burning rage was dissolving what little bit of sanity he was clinging to.

How could he at any point think it wise to … to do the unimaginable? Dear Elias, think of the ramifications! Ok, so maybe I’ll just give him a slight push out the door then I’m free. It would be nothing more than a freak accident according to the headlines, he rationalized. But Elias how could you? You gain nothing, you’ll lose your calling for the future and risk your stature with God almighty! 

         It was at least a two thousand cubit fall, starting from the door threshold-onto the molten-jagged rocks below.

Mindless, he quickened his pace… reaching out to strip Dad’s grip from the jamb... but, his lagging foot snagged on a nail, tripping him. Both knees cracked against the subfloor, he rolls sprawling, barely digging his fingertips into a solid pillar of air, hanging out-over the edge, clinging to the threshold, white-knuckled, staring-down certain death... a stout hand grabbed his collar, pulling him back to safety laying him flat on his back. His Dad leans over, straight-arming Elias fast to the floor, fire emitting from his nostrils!  Grabbing the hammer, raising it high; Elias shut his eyes and winced, sighing, “have mercy on me…” foreknowing that his life was about to end! He felt a rush of air, and heard the thud, but felt no pain, no pain?

Dad set the nail.