ladyreck67
Feb 12, 2018

The Day the Earth died: Father’s Warrior

0 comments

 

The Day the Earth died

Father’s Warrior

Chapter 1

 

It was hot. Too hot. The sweat did not have time to liquefy till the heat dried it on your body. It made little sense for it was still early morning. No one had even made it to work yet. By the looks of things, they would not.

 

The air was off. Not intentionally or for lack of trying. It just would not work. It was working. It had been before I headed for bed last night. I heard the chatter as it clicked on and fell asleep to the comforting noise it always made but woke to silence.

 

Not even the ticking of the clock could soothe my nerves. What ticking? The clock was not ticking. I tried my cell phone for a weather report, but it was not working either. It was fully charged so why? There was no signal. I wandered through the house in my weakened state trying to get a signal. Where there were usually four bars, I had none.

 

I went to the bathroom. I could wait no longer. My face felt the flames from the heat and as I looked in the mirror I saw my face, and it terrified me. Even on my worst sunburned days, it was never this red. I removed my pajama top. It was long sleeved because as I said before the air had been on.

 

My arms were blistered and peeling. Removing my pajama bottoms I saw the same thing. I covered myself in aloe gel and as I headed for my bedroom to put on some other clothes the lights flickered, then darkness.

 

I almost screamed in pain as my blistered knee hit the coffee table. There should be a flashlight in the drawer of the table. I searched for it and found it. Thank goodness it was still there.

 

Shining the light, I made my way into the bedroom. I had a battery powered clock on the wall and shone the light to see what time it actually was. What? No. It could not have stopped working. I just put new batteries in there. Now neither clock was ticking.

 

It had stopped at 3:00 A.M. I knew it was later than that for I could see the sun through the window, and feel the heat rising. I grabbed an old floppy housedress and threw it on. I would open the curtains and doors even though the heat would come in. I needed light.

 

As I opened the door the heat hit head-on. screams everywhere. Why had I not heard the screams before? I screamed. Well, I tried to anyway, but I could not. I was frozen. I could not move.

 

I had to move. I knew it. Where should I go? Which direction? I was worried that I could not outrun the flames, but I had too. If I wanted to survive I needed to move and move now.

I shut the front door, not that it would do much good. I ran for the back door. I did not grab anything. There was no time too.

 

As I ran I prayed for the ones caught in the flames and prayed for myself to escape them. The town was a raging inferno and there was no hope for the people trapped.

The tears dried on my face as quick as they were released. My feet were blistering, and I felt a tiredness like I had never felt before.

 

I tried to fight the lethargy that was taking my strength. I tried to fight the insane thirst that struck, but I was losing the battle.

 

Tripping over something I went down and stayed down. All I could do was stare at the charred body before me. The sightless eyes had me mesmerized. I wanted to move, but I could not. One more minute. Just one more minute to pray for this soul that lay before me.

 

"Get up. Get up, now." The words finally penetrated my brain. I tried to turn and look, but I could not move. "Get up or we will leave you here."

 

"Help her up. I am not leaving her behind." I felt myself being lifted and wanted to scream with the pain, but my mouth was to dry. I knew I was moving, though. Moving fast. I felt water over my face and dribbling in my mouth.

 

Opening my eyes, I realized we were in a convertible. Someone was pouring water on me, and I was safe...for the time being. Or was I?

New Posts
  • We’ve entered a foggy time Where only the insane are truly free Politicians thrive With agendas where their brains should be. Where “dialogue” is shouted curses Wielded like dull-edged swords And our defense against this loud banality Our faces sunken into phones, terminally bored. We no longer slouch towards Bethlehem But think its existence is just fake news. The truth is no longer a solid thing But a clay molded with our views. I’ll not try to do what Didion did, I’ve neither the competence nor the need To walk around in different shoes In glasses smoked with weed. I’ll just erode in peace here dark While the world in every direction implodes to dust. The red of it not iron-based – Eternal quiet the only end to our distrust.
  • Etréstles asks oblation to the unfortunate of the World .. he asks to give his offering House that is not his house, to synchronize your departure to be in the company of Solitude, He does not have his sacred Cemetery before leaving for Nineveh ... He has disappointed himself of the Archpriest of Ayia Lavra for his strong telluric pains in his marble abdomen ... The holy oil that furrowed his forehead, furrowed his soul he has not recognized himself when his own umbilical nap has flourished a wafer of the Messiah who has traveled alongside him by the pavilions of Messolonghi in clarions rubies .. My father Staktos; come, I have not yet received the indulgence of abandoning what is not abandoned, I need to hear your voice from my sixth reincarnation playing on the roads of the oracles that illuminate the world, which is yours and the Messiah Choir on the Magdala heavens . Father I have not yet gone, and so many lives I have lived to see your distant face on grass barley resembling your breaths of late sunny spring celestial sermon sermons. But this time I want to cheer you beyond the imagination of eclectic anemia, with the aching pain descending through my impure heart. Nothing torments me more than to move away from the hells that do not know that I run through the prairies towards you without getting tired, imagining that I will fall into the neglect of your forgetfulness. I quickly lose my Laud from my right arm as a short-handed little fish, to commit the indiscretion of anticipating me to worship you with my dislocated left arm that carries the Harp from Lethe confiscated from Euterpe. Harmony that ignores Dinora in the false forests of Messolonghi in flames. You are my cobble who pierces the cries of my crucified hands, timbers of lymph incense next to the sweetness of your words that grew green in my dreams. Challenge with this interloquy of your incandescent soul, this is how The Last Temptation of Etrestles begins with its bleeding fingers, in the inflexible forgiveness of praising all those who want to dance with the mothers of the Shadows; that Staktos is his father, before reviving him and resuscitating him in his exodus to Nineveh, land hunched over by the Host, tortuous and artificial light shone from the recklessness of him who will make him sleep through the desert of life in farewell fantasies. Winds are felt singing whistles of hydrogen sulphide rocking from the edge of the cliff of the cloud, to fall on the shoulders of the timid death, False Blood, clumsy blood to wash my feet on Virgo and Jupiter in the sand. . Father, in purgatory, make the sounds of the new dawn without any detail or gesture of repentance. Thus Etrestles receives the Eucharistic host offering in his holy mouth and runs down the corridors of the great mysteries of the Nothing of good spirit of all Mantle. To be continue…
  • Thy will be done Dear God shine your light on me rain down my almighty I got no chair to sit nor a place to think safe me from despair and give me air heal my valuable soul and wipe away my tear and no longer live in my fear show my path to love help me fly like a dove help me be who am I to be I am an Earth Angel my almighty and you are my creator greater, better, like a mirror my light, my only saviour Dear God I need to wake up shake up, and never look back I am on a mission waking from hibernation creating, living and loving this is my destination Dear God Help me please grow and forgive others for I now know my real true feathers I am an Earth Angel and we are one Dear God Thy will be done
About Us
Contact us
FOLLOW US
  • Wix Twitter page
  • Instagram Social Icon
  • Wix Facebook page
  • YouTube Social  Icon
Subscribe to Realistic Poetry today! 
1 Offical Member gif gold1m.png

© 2019 Realistic Poetry International LLC  D & C Inspiration

0