Feast of the Fallen One

The sun has just risen from its long slumber. The soothing breeze from the ocean calms the senses. The sands are soft. Corals are scattered everywhere. Everything looks so perfect. It seems that God has stayed here last night. But he did not. Beyond the lush palm trees, the fine white sand is soaked in blood. Several large bon fires are located in the center of a native town in a very secluded island in the Caribbean. Mutilated and rotting bodies are stacked over the fire, as if a feast is about to start. Man, woman, child, and even domesticated animals were not spared from this monstrous and grotesque undertaking. “Please spare me! I beg of you! Have mercy! You already butchered my family and wiped-out my town. Spare this pathetic body! Please...” cried the woman clinging in the arms of an Angel as they slowly descend from the sky. “Don’t be afraid, my love. It’s Albert! Don’t you remember? It’s me!” The woman, still very disoriented, looked at the face of her captor. For a moment, she recognized the large slash from his face starting from his right eye running through his left cheek. But she was immediately pulled back to what just happened last night. At the stroke of midnight, the ground trembled. Everyone went outside. They gathered in the center of their little village. Then it stopped. The women are praying loudly. Then, the earth shook violently again. This time, the earth opened its gate. Like a king, an angel showed up from the opening and hovered above the molten rocks. He raised his massive and majestic sword and uttered the last words the villagers will here. “This is for you, my love!” Before the rooster finished its early vocalization, the fifty individuals living peacefully are all dead. Except for one. “In time, you will remember. But for now, calm down and let’s enjoy this feast I prepared only for you.”

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