The Blessed
by
Justin Steel
A boy.
Simon relit his pipe and drew in a mouthful of fragrant smoke.
A boy, with his mother’s fine blonde hair and his father’s blue eyes.
And this child was theirs to keep. Yes, this child and every one after would belong to them. The Lord had blessed them and the Lord was pleased.
Simon let the pipe smoke trickle out through his nostrils, then took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean autumn air. It was salty and fresh. So pure, so whole, so perfect. Everything was perfect, heaven on earth.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Yes, it proved to be true, didn’t it. They all lived simple lives, the people of Dracus, safely isolated from the rest of this dying, poisoned world. Simon knew that he was one of the blessed, chosen by the Lord to live in the lost Garden of Eden. Lost to the rest of the world, but not to the chosen few that lived under the wings of the Lord, never straying from the set path.
There were no apple trees here. They followed the word of the Lord, and He provided. The air was clean, the crops bountiful, the livestock healthy, the water sparkling and pure. The Lord watched over them keeping them safe under His wings. The people of Dracus knew naught of pain, of suffering, of evil, of sin. They obeyed the Lord and would never know these things.
It had been a little over a year ago that his first-born, Eve (as the Lord commanded, all first born females were named Eve, while all first born males were named Adam) had been brought into this world. Simon, and his wife Katherine, as well as the rest of the island had waited in eager anticipation for the birth of the blessed child.
Simon shifted his gaze from the slowly setting sun to the dramien, which stood stolidly, bravely facing the vast ocean that stretched out for an eternity before it. The sun’s vibrant light shone upon it, transforming it into a statue of sparkling gold. It was a statue of the Lord of course, and gazing upon it Simon couldn’t help but admire its beauty. Ol’ Gregory up on Sanctuary hill had carved it flawlessly, its highly polished surface looked soft and alive. One would fully expect it to spread out its angelic wings and soar up into the sky with its long peacock tail trailing dreamlike behind it. The large diamonds that made up its eyes reflected savage pinpoints of light back into Simon’s eyes, but he found himself unable to look away. It was but one of countless others but it was his, and to Simon, its beauty was unmatched by any of the rest. Carved out of the finest lava rock, the dramien stood erect, its mouth frozen halfway open in a grimace of pleasure and fulfillment. And in the place of honor, resting atop of its claw-studded hands was the petite grey skull of his first-born, Eve. Looking at Eve’s skull cupped protectively within the Lords hands, Simon smiled, a gentle smile, full of love, pride and thanksgiving. He had done his part, paid his dues. He had helped keep this holy place a safe haven for his family and everyone else as well. And he had done a great service to the Lord as well. The greatest service of all.
####
After Eve had been brought forth, the midwife had placed the naked, bloody child in Simon’s arms and he had taken her down to the sea. She was a perfect little baby. Word had spread fast and the air was flavored with the acrid smell of burning palm leaves. The preparations were being made all across the island. The town itself would be festooned with colorful decorations and the traditional charms for warding off evil. The township would be alive with activity, eager hands working in anticipation of things to come. There would be games and rides for the children, and of course, the great feast.
There were a million things that needed to be done, and everything needed to be perfect. Tonight there would be singing and dancing and countless prayers and rituals to be observed. It was all very wonderful.
Simon had cleansed Eve’s tiny, fragile body in the purifying water of the living ocean. She had giggled. So wondrous, life, that even a child just out of the womb could giggle so. Then he had wrapped his precious bundle in a golden blanket (a wedding present from his parents) and set off, with Eve secure in his loving embrace, to the Lord’s lair on the holy mountain.
It had been so long since he had traveled this road, but he had always known, just as every Draconian knows, that one day, one marvelous day, he would travel along this holy path yet again. Had it really been so long ago? Amazing how time flies. Over ten years now, since the age of understanding. And even this time, with his lovely Eve, would not be the last. The last would come at the age of progression, when he would join the Lord and be one with Him forever.
Yet as wonderful as it all was Simon could not suppress a minute tingle of obscure uneasiness and fear he felt.
Unlike the surrounding forest and lowlands that made up the bulk of the island, the holy mountain -- a sleeping volcano and the islands only real high ground (Sanctuary Mountain was really nothing more than a small hill) -- was oddly quiet. No birds sang, no animals stirred, no mosquitoes attacked him, it was as if nothing dared trespass on this holy place. Everything was still. No breeze rustled the branches of the healthy robust trees that surrounded him; even the sun seemed to have to strain to deliver its light to this tranquil domain.
Still, Simon felt vague fears reach inside him and seize his heart. It was a test; he recognized it for what it was, a test of faith, of loyalty, of honor and duty. But he still wanted to simply tuck tail and run, to hell with duty and honor, to hell with the whole island. He couldn’t understand why he felt that way, but something just felt so fundamentally wrong here.
Yes, he knew what it was. It was the Evil Machine trying to seduce him, urging him to betray his people, his family, his Lord. Simon was not fooled. He was a man of strong character; he would not be swayed. The Evil Machine was all around him, all around everybody and everything, one had to very careful not to fall into one of its many traps. He had seen how the Evil Machine worked, oh yes. At the age of fourteen, the age of understanding, he had made his first journey to the Lord’s lair, and he had felt it then too. Was it stronger now? He wasn’t sure. He had prayed at the entrance to the Lord’s lair and the Lord had shown him everything.
Simon naturally knew the history of the world. How the Evil Machine had first corrupted then polluted then finally savaged the world. He knew about Adam and Eve, about the serpent (who was really a minion of the Evil Machine) and about Jesus and all that. He knew how the Evil Machine had first tempted the people by appearing to be useful, beautiful, and perfect. Once unleashed, like a virus, it spread its damnation onto all.
Nobody was safe; it was all so wonderful, a gift from the heavens. But there had been two world wars, weapons that could kill all that lived, and the Evil Machine ruled supreme. It had its great martyrs, from Thomas Edison to Bill Gates, and the Evil Machine dominated all. It enslaved the world; polluted the air, water, and earth with its pestilence. And everyone was so blindly ignorant; nobody could see their terrible affliction.
One must beware for the Evil Machine bears a pleasant aspect. The enslaved people committed horrific sins, and they grew soft and lazy. Few really worked anymore, many never even left their homes, the Evil Machine did it all for them. It raped the land, poisoned the water and the air, and then it destroyed it all.
The Lord had brought to Simon a vision as he prayed outside the Lord’s lair, and He had shown Simon the awful fate that had awaited those unrepentant sinners. What he saw that day had remained burned in his mind forever. That horrifying vision gave the then fourteen-year-old Simon terrible nightmares for weeks after. Such suffering, such violence, such death. Even now those images, although faded, still had the power to chill his heart. It was only then that Simon had realized just how blessed he and his people really are. He loved the Lord and was truly grateful for his guidance. The Lord had taken Simon’s distant ancestors and the other "chosen" people and brought them here, to this place, this safe haven. Far away from the suffering and death, beyond the reaches of the Evil Machine. The Lord had provided them with everything they would ever need and they worked hard to please both the Lord and themselves. Simon could not dishonor such a heritage.
The path ended up ahead. Here the Lord’s lair sat beneath the pinnacle of the volcano. The long two-hour hike had taken its toll on him; his arms ached fiercely from carrying his precious burden: Eve.
Directly in front of him stood the entrance to the Lord’s lair, cold, brooding and dark. Just outside of that dark stone mouth (yes, it did look something like a mouth, didn’t it?) resting along the border of shadow sat a small golden crib. How many Adams and Eves had been placed lovingly into that very same crib by their fathers?
Simon approached the crib with slow feet. He was truly afraid now, but of what exactly, he did not know. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was that scared him so.
Was this not the home of the Lord? Their kind, loving Lord? Their wise and compassionate Lord? Why was he so frightened?
It was the Evil Machine, no doubt, trying to seduce him. Simon would not allow himself to be seduced. He tenderly lowered his daughter into the crib. She was sleeping. How cute. He leaned over the crib and gave her a kiss on one flawless cheek. Then he took two steps back, two big steps back and got down on his knees. He lowered his head closed his eyes and prayed aloud:
"O Lord, I am your servant, for you are the Lord of lords. I have brought you Eve and humbly ask that you take her under your wing. I ask for your continuing favor, your guidance and wisdom, and your love. Help me to remain strong and pure, and true. Amen."
He opened his eyes. The crib was still there but Eve was gone.
####
After he had returned he had gathered his wife and they ventured into town. Everyone was waiting. They had been greeted with great cheer and showered with gifts of food, livestock (Rudy had given them his fattest sow), clothing, and countless other things, all of the highest quality. To give anything less but the best to one who had just surrendered his most precious possession to the Lord for the good of all would have been unethical and a grave sin.
Simon had attended many such festivals, but that one had been the first and last time he would find himself at the center of it. He and Katherine had made their sacrifice for the benefit of the whole island, and the island responded with thanks and celebration in the glory of the Lord.
Then it was almost midnight, almost time. An anticipating hush had fallen upon the township. Everyone, every man, woman, and child on the island huddled close together as if for warmth. All the games had been played out and the mighty feast devoured. The crowd whispered excitedly as they waited the appearance of the Lord. Simon held his wife close, his hand was clamped so tightly in hers that her knuckles were white.
Then complete silence had settled over the crowd. Midnight.
There! The Lord! The Lord had drifted out of his lair, moving gracefully, dream-like. His tremendous angelic wings spread wide and flapping rhythmically, sensuously. He soared up into the night sky, His silver-white body glowing in all His glory under the light of the crescent moon. He circled around the island pausing when He reached Simon’s humble spot of land. The Lord dipped down as he made his delivery, apparently finding the dramien to his liking, then flew towards the township flying directly overhead looking down at His silent awe-struck disciples approvingly, with love. Simon turned to face his wife and saw tears on her cheeks, wonder and fulfillment in her eyes. Their joy was complete. Simon turned her face towards him. They kissed.
Simon carefully tipped the ashes out of his pipe, stomping briefly on them to make sure they were out, and stood up. He took a moment to admire the vast blue ocean and the deepening red of the setting sun. Yes, life was wonderful indeed. He took in another deep breath, relishing the salty tang of the slowly cooling air and headed back home where his wife awaited him with his newborn son.
THE END
© 2006 by Justin Steel
Justin Steel says simply: "I am a young aspiring writer now living in Massachusettes. I am a big fan of Stephen King."
E-mail: Justin Steel
Comment on this story in the Aphelion Lettercol
Or Return to Aphelion's Index page.