This barren land, wretched and foul, spread
vastly upon me. What few vultures that roamed around have become a rare sight.
Scorched to hold no life, the ground lay still. Yet, this place had a wall,
even a gate. The walls stood tall, at least five stories. I had never climbed the
stairs, but no one bothered to attack these grounds anyways. Watchtowers,
beacons, remains of heavy artillery, were all simply rusting away. At the
center, old stone doors creak as to speak on behalf of the hinges that had seen
many years. The gates were rather sturdy, but the engravings seemed to have
faded. I did not care much for it.
I had been in charge of guarding the
grounds for quite some time, but, honestly, I knew very little of it. My father
had been in charge before me, and my grandfather, and my ancestors and on. I
knew that I had to one day take my father’s place, but time came earlier than
expected. Despite my best appeal, I had to leave my young ambitions aside to
watch over this area. I could still taste the bitterness, this dead end desert.
I did not blame my father, though. He woke up one night with pain in his left
hip. He tried to work by using a walking stick, but I guess all was too much
for him to bear anymore.
I had only visited my father working here
once as a child. He was very proud of what he was doing, though it did not seem
like much work at all. He opened the gates to the walls at sunrise. At sunset,
he closed it. This was all that he did. This was all that I was to do. When the
sun was up, I would sit in the sentry box. At night, I would head to the
barrack at the corner of the wall.
The local merchant would bring me supplies
for a week or two, mostly dried non-perishables. Once in a while, I would get
letters as well. Family came to visit occasionally. Friends, they used to, but
less so as they had their own lives to live. Also, once a year, an official
would come by and wander around as if looking for something. He would soon
leave without saying much.
Sunrise. Sunset. Waking up. Sleeping. Each
day would come and go. People would come and go. Days began to blur, and I
could not tell if it was yesterday, today or tomorrow. The mornings became
annoying. The evenings were just about the same. Everything about this place
started to bother me, so I decided to leave.
I left the gates closed, and headed to the
nearest town. I planned to relax for about a week or so. I was not too interested
in the booze and the women. I just wanted to enjoy a fresh meal and good
company. A few days past, and I was minding my own business only to hear about
news of small disasters around town. There was news about incidents of crops
dying and petty thieveries. Just yesterday, an old building crumbled. Luckily
no one was hurt. There seemed to be a rise in some disease. The doctors were
sure busy. Honestly, I think I heard about news of war brimming as well. I
could tell the town was no longer going to be quiet, so I decided to leave a
bit early. The place I was staying at was having trouble getting supplies of
fresh produce anyways.
It was already late when I got back. The stars
certainly were shining brighter. I could even feel sweetness in the gentle
breeze that was never present. I suspected I was in a good mood. I even thought
I saw butterflies.
My pleasant dream was interrupted by the sound
of birds chirping. Birds, not vultures. I also realized that I had not imagined
seeing the butterflies. Something was different. There was moisture in the air, a sense of life brimming.
As I approached the gates, I saw that it
was glowing. My heart began to pound only to skip a beat as I had opened the
doors.
A pair of scared rabbits scurried off, and
I saw there in front of me a path of flowers laid, various kinds, ones I had
never seen before. It led up to higher grounds, logs leading as stairs. As I
opened through the vines hanging like veils, there it was, a throne, built from
roots. Light seemed to directly shine upon it, glimmering through the leaves.
Two trees over laid the throne across each other with the branches gently swaying.
Fear struck my heart, but it was not the
concern for my life. Rather, it was of awe, a fearful respect for something
greater. My legs began to tremble.
Suddenly, the throne set fire. All went
ablaze, and it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. I rushed
out towards the gates, running for my life.
As soon as I reached the gates, I turned to
the stairs. I had to get to the beacon. I had to ask for help. I had never run
so fast. Each stair adding to the already weighted heart, I finally reached the
top, only to see the place completely empty again.
The next day, I received a letter from my
father. He was concerned about the news of clamor amidst the neighbors. He was
wondering if there had been any trouble here. He added that he would visit again
soon. I wrote back to him saying there was no need, for now I knew the purpose
of this place, the reason my generations of ancestors decided to protect these
grounds. Surely the palace for a king, and I did not know it.
Genesis 28:16
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