Walking through the corridors of infinite beauty where life was one of grace, praise and peace, he came to the realization that he had been there before. The diminishing of time could never erase what was born out of pure fulfillment given by the hands of unconditional love to those who were his own. His destiny had been recorded before the foundation of the world and in the most important book of all time his name was already written. Was it possible he thought to himself, that all the atrocities he had committed when in fleshly form were no longer; gone; discarded, thrown into the sea of forgetfulness? He felt this infinite oneness with the giver of; the builder of this amazing place of splendor. What he had grieved and thought over, hour upon hour, year upon year, were no longer, for strife, and its counterparts of lust, deception and hatred were of his past sinful existence. His surroundings of majestic beauty were as he remembered when there as an unborn. Streets of pure gold, trees of life bringing constant shelter, harmony flowing through now immortal souls like a pure cascading stream refreshing and continually abiding within. The joy of knowing he had once again come home and was free from the chains that had perpetually bound him when walking on a plane called earth, a destiny named life and a road he had brought upon himself, was true reality and utter fulfillment. Oh to bring this precious knowledge to all still having to run the race set before them was so powerful that for, but a moment, he desired to leave and share in depth that man, him in particular, had chosen the wrong path. Destiny was written on tablets of stone before the birth of the incoming child but pride, rebellion and free will choice had risen within and placed him on a highway of utter destruction, not only to himself but towards all those he was supposed to cherish and love as only a father, a husband can do. When decisions were formed within the frailty of the mind that had been opened to forms of expression beyond the normal, he was well on his way to the darkest fall only one can imagine if having been there themselves. Bondage of principalities and lower spirits that led to the destruction of human understanding and so causing the mind to pull the flesh into hideous attacks on another and thus allowing all to feel the control of a will subject to the ruler of the world of darkness and death in all forms. Blackened by thoughts fused into a mindset of secrets and evil, the way of pure destiny was discarded and overridden, ruled by a tyrant who was merciless and without thought for his captive soul. Lives were of no consequence, satisfaction was the goal and in seeing, he now finally saw. Was it possible that repentance and forgiveness were truly his? His life was like a painting filling the sky, never-ending. Devoid of beauty, of tranquility and one he was unable to piece together for he could not grasp the fact that he had become a pawn to his own distasteful, despicable deeds.
The moment of truth was splashed across the wall of his inner spirit as with a sudden surge of truthful reality he asked forgiveness from the one who had already paid such a price. As freedom and the release of sins enveloped his entire inner being he came to the internal understanding that no one would understand the trauma of having to finally face his own demons within. He, too, lived with thought patterns that invaded his subconscious without been invited. The harshness of never having enough of the basic substances needed to live a normal, carefree life as a young boy growing into puberty. Abuse of cheap alcohol taken with a mixture of pain pills bringing the one trying to deaden poverty and its lack thereof, to an abrupt halt. Homeless at given times, been forced to beg on street corners thus making a mockery of his growing mind which still had dreams and hopes filling itself with make-believe. The many sleepless nights due to constant shouting and beatings. A shiver of fear would run like a raging river down his scrawny back when the strange people with hooded coats filled their kitchen, settling themselves at the old wooden table, together with his dad and timid mum. Not once did he feel at peace with these scary men and women who so often delved into the dark world of the unknown. When been told in no uncertain terms that he, too, was now old enough to sit in on these periods of calling up the dead, his hair on his small arms stood up and he wanted to bring up the tiny amount of food he was given earlier. As voices of the women changed into those of the so-called departed husbands, he would bolt out of the kitchen with energy beyond his years. Slowly he became aware of changes taking place within both his parents and a darkness covered his abode, filtering into his own life and fearful dreams. An apparition frequently invaded his room, watching him as he slept and when finally he came face to face with this spirit, he knew there was no escape. Rather then fret, his delicate mind made its own decision and he handed himself over to the occultic world of evil. With increasing strength and powers giving him the uncanny ability to do feats no other youngster could, he became one to be reckoned with and his inner pride grew, bringing with it the desire for more and more control. Money started for a season to become flush as he was capable to tell others various things coming to pass in their future. His knowledge about friends and family members made people respect his so-called God-given talent. No more was he ridiculed, mocked and looked down on for being poor and without. All around people knew it was better to stay clear of this lad with strange talents. When the burden of being in the grip of his demon spirit guides took its toll, he would drown, or so he thought, his suffering, in his dad’s alcohol only to wake up the following morning, more possessed. One day, he promised himself, he would seek help from the local pastor but for now, he thought he had the inner strength to overcome the hideous spirits dwelling around and within, by himself. As the years rambled on, they slowly caused the then-young lad to grow into a dangerously overtaken man, wanting his own way and full of lustful obsessions for the power of total control over one and all.
Even he was unaware of the fact that no longer was he just this ordinary one-spirited man brought into being by a loving creator but in reality a man with many different faces due to the invasion of his numerous spirit guides dwelling within. Had he but know, surely the future events would never have been brought into being? My child, my daughter, my precious beautiful gift that I never saw as priceless. To the unsuspecting victims, all those that I destroyed in my reign of terror, forgive me, seek the true one who gave his all and like myself, experience wholeness. As his once-darkened mind cleared and realization took hold so heart wrenching prayers, this time, for his past victims, poured like a torrent of water flooding his very soul. Restore them, oh please, with your omnipotent power and unconditional love, restore them and make them whole.
Flowing like cotton wool through the now, darkened sky, the swirling clouds finally reached their destination and as if held together by an unseen hand, came to what appeared to be an abrupt halt above the sprawling over large home in the quiet scenic village of “Cache Secretes.” Years of neglect had woven their way through the broken-down fences and onto the walls filling the cracks and holes with layers of sadness and whispers of dreams long forsaken. Unclean patches of curtains, now faded from the struggling rays of sun that tried in vain to carry their warmth into rooms locked and without the touch of a loving soul opening windows and thus allowing the coolness of fresh air into their once welcoming presence, hang their heads in despair, waiting for the moment of no longer been needed and torn down, completely discarded. The ominous presence of the dark awaiting clouds resting above, only added to the deep despair and utter loneliness of the old, lost soul, cuddled behind the broken couch in the once majestic ballroom where people of note came to share and dance the evening away, filled with joyous expectation of what may soon be, if hopes and passionate longings were to come to pass and take flight there where hidden in their inner imagination. Young women encircled in the glow of knowing their exquisite beauty filled the tall, handsome, muscle-bound men with desires of passionate longings, swirled their full flared skirts even more seductively round their full-bodied figures as they danced and showed off their charming capabilities to woo even the hardest of men within their sphere. With hands of pure genius playing the lofty grand piano, each and every tune spelled out the tender call of romance and beckoning love to come into full play and reach its mating call of fulfillment. With anticipation mounting, the air closed in as feelings became unbridled, and desire translated into being headily whisked out and up the grand stairs, leading into the bedrooms of perfection only found in novels brought into being by the imagination of an author destined to stir up every reader’s inner heart of unspoken dreams. As spirit met spirit and flesh bore down with no stopping until complete satisfaction encircled the two intertwined souls, so the nights of the fairy tale ballroom dances spoke their own story to one and all in “Cache Secretes “village. As children were conceived, loved, and grew bringing with their own destination, moments of joy, sorrow, sins, and achievements, so were the corridors of each daunting part of the cascading home brought alive. Secrets told were left lying on beds together with freshly fitted sheets of pure satin and there too, packed away in deep cupboards, where locks of pure gold were carefully fitted. No one breathed a word of what went on at given times when the night lights went out and all were supposedly tucked away under warm blankets of protection against the howling winter winds. Did these things really take place or were they a figment of an overactive imagination fueled by the inner longing to be accepted when not being of breathtaking beauty in one or another form? Who was the nighttime stalker that so frequently entered the various bedrooms, casting his presence onto unsuspecting victims? Was he real or did he appear from the world of make-believe or worse still was he the deathly shadow from the outer space of supernatural beings? The fear gripping her heart and spirit glued her inwardly together so as not to move even a muscle lest she too become one of the victims subjected to his lustful, forceful escapades. Without warning, the fragility of her mind broke, and from deep within a howl of sheer torment arose from her deepest, darkest inner core being and she began to sob and shake uncontrollably. He may for now have left her alone but the tormented, pitiful little girl, hiding in the corner, away from seeing eyes, became alive and started crawling away, searching for a place, any place, where the pain tearing through her shattered body would cease. Blood flowing like a river left trails behind as together with her favourite rag doll; she twisted and turned, trying in vain to banish all thoughts of agony and fear. Again she had been submitted to what seemed to be days of brutality, turning her into a nervous, timid child with no feelings of self-worth. The beautiful toys, the outings did nothing to diminish the internal hatred for who she was, who she perceived herself to be. Watching from the corner of her slightly opened door, she came abruptly back into the moment at hand, only to find she had, without knowing, torn off pieces of flesh on her delicate arms. As the trickle of blood flowed slowly down onto her fingers and left a stain on the carpet beneath, she felt a strange relief flowing through her inner body. How was it possible to become one, yet again, with her inner child of anguish? Was she losing her mind to these now frequent takeovers that at given times, sent her floundering and unable to deal with life as a grown woman? When, without warning, she ran swiftly and as far away as possible from her home of luxury and to the outside world, one of beauty and tranquility. With her face made up as that of darkness and her spirit seemingly in touch with the spirits of destruction, she would flaunt herself to any and every man within close proximity for but a moment of degradation, so contrary to her true inner gentle, caring soul. As if in bondage to an unseen force, without warning, at a precarious moment, she would hurry back to the home of many faces and sleep the rest of the early morning hours in a fit of restless motion revealing the inner state of her traumatized mind and spirit. Life as known to her, continued and as if all around were not of this world and emotionally desensitized, so her bizarre behaviour grew, yet to those who felt they knew her, this was nothing to be concerned about. After all, had she not always been a slightly unstable child growing up, out of the ordinary, who knows, maybe a little like her unorthodox family? If the truth be told, if those caring for her had but seen and taken note, her self-loathing, her tormented inner child would have been visible, for daily signs told their own story. Fear filled eyes at the sight of certain types of men visiting, refusal to stay in doors if she, herself had no set of keys, scars on her arms and parts of her body where she tore at her own flesh when unsure, and a feeling of being out of control took place. Dreams forever turning into nightmares. Mood swings that took place for no apparent reason. Life and the people so close bore all in their stride.
The small silhouette stood as still as if it was made out of stone and unable to move. Staring far into the distance, seemingly mesmerized by an object only visible to her searching eyes, one could only remain silent and take in the pure beauty of her fragile, graceful body. As the sun’s rays caught her free-flowing long hair, it brought out the shimmering strands of black and red mixtures. Imprinted in the onlookers’ minds, never to be diminished by the seasons of time, was the picture of this fascinating creature. Into what time span had she flown? Was she even real or a mere mirage that on closer inspection disappeared without a trace, yet forever in the mind of the captivated onlooker? For one split second as his eyes closed in a moment of longing and then reopened, the image was no longer, and in its place stood an old, frail, bent woman, beaten down in body and soul by the harshness of life’s journey. Dangerously close to the edge of the rock on which she was precariously balancing, she glanced but for a fleeting second right into his very core being, willing him to draw closer and release her from the severe bondage of years of inner turmoil and outer diminishing of her once, so active and alive body. If only, she herself, had the courage to take the step forward and oh so carefully, slip over the edge and into the deep, dark blue waters calling her; persuading her that she would then be free. Her nerve at the thought of tumbling down, down into some unknown abyss of darkness engulfing her very being into a tomorrow of faces of terror and a non-stop tormenting, caused her to turn and with heaviness of heart once again move on and into her existence of days alone and never-ending pain. Where was the eager, eccentric, free-spirited young woman at given times, who silently dwelt within the old body, mind, and spirit? When in the moments of true sanity, the newness of freedom of expression in all forms making her the prize; the longed-for possession of one and all in the village of “Cache Secretes.” At those times of inner freedom, the gaiety of spirit calling out to each and everyone to join in and experience life in all its fullness without a single thought of consequences lurking around the corner. Youth in its prime and all the world had to offer belonging to her, for indeed, one so privileged as to be born into the wealth and glamour of riches untold, the poor and needy were of little thought. From people of all walks of life, she was acknowledged and desired for her angelic face, sculptured body and so they believed, burning, flamboyant spirit. A family of note in a village of ordinary people they stood out as only those of royal blood could do. Inflated egos have the bizarre habit of seeing what really does not exist and in her family, a father, who unknown to the outside world, ruled as one in charge of a dynasty. Within her delicate being resided her love, hate feelings for this two-sided man, this monster that filled the night air with fear and turmoil. As years passed and she was given in marriage, bore beautiful, strong children, her inner, well-kept secrets took their toll. Driving her long-suffering husband into the arms of a quiet, gentle woman, he had departed, unable to understand the different personalities coming to the fore. Children now married and gone onto greener pastures over the seas, she was alone, needy, and suffered in silence. The detested father, old, fragile, and without any, once upon a time, luxuries surrounding him, stayed on in the sprawling, majestic, now broken-down home.
Without warning, whilst slowly slipping into yet another disturbed sleep, she became aware of any inner desire to let the past and all its hateful memories go. How was this possible for not once was there any help offered for her inner moments of strange, unpredictable behaviour. If seen as one seemingly not of a sound mind, then all involved within the family closed ranks due to the belief that the whole family were unstable and to be shunned. The gentle whisper of tender love within and an intense feeling of being held and cherished beyond words, took hold of her broken spirit and frail mind. Soothing hands washed every part. Her spirit, mind, heart, and body became clean and life as she had known it was no more, and in its place sheer beauty was seen deep within her now, open eyes. Her tears knew no bounds and like a cascading waterfall without limits, flowed down her deeply wrinkled face. Looking up, she became aware of his presence although unable to see him with the outer eye. Her pitiful cry for help had not gone unanswered after all. He was real and he was with her, restoring her inner child and the fragile elderly woman of now, to complete wholeness. As the monstrous figure of her hated father once again became centre page in her thoughts, so she let him go and in thus doing, the heavy burden from her broken spirit took flight and she became free, standing tall in spirit. He took on a new form. That of a broken destroyed man also trying to fight off his own personal demons within. As the rage and hatred were dissolved by the freedom of forgiveness, an understanding and, could it be, graceful love for this man called father, replaced all else. Tender mercy and the power of unconditional love had won over the depths of destruction and torment.
As morning broke through with the smell of fresh scones and the gentle twitter of the birds nestled in the trees outside her bedroom window, so her fragile mind cast aside what had been seen and heard the night before and in its place, the magic musical evening rose to the surface causing her to glow at the mere thought of been cherished and loved with intense desire. Was this the house, the home of joyful dances, friendly folk, people of note, and children of love or was this the graveyard of inner death and destruction, fear, and torment with secrets hidden, never to be shared. Perhaps it was both for the master role played was that of a father born into poverty filled with low self-esteem only in later years to arise and become a man of distinction yet bearing the deep scars of harsh hurtful years of rejection. Two faces, two people within yet wearing the mask of one. With every passing year, the deterioration caused a destruction of the mind till all were gone and only he and his now, fragile elderly daughter survived. Despair, depression, and anguish for years of flesh-filled rages poured onto innocent victims now filled his mind, and like his once majestic home, so he too was broken down, without care, and abandoned. As the darkened clouds lifted and silently moved on, so he curled up in his corner and with but one tear falling down his wrinkled face, looked up and asked forgiveness for the sins committed in times so far gone. As the light of day shone through the dirty glass window brightness filled his wretched heart and soul bringing forgiveness craved for within. Peace and contentment flooded his old fragile being and as the air from his lungs slowly gave in and his last breath was taken, the singing of angels filled his newly born spirit and he arose within as newness of life resounded all around and he and his once tormented soul were finally free.
I am an elderly woman who loves to express herself through the gift of writing and enjoys including others on a particular journey of deep imagination and fantasy. We are all given various talents and to be able to use them so as to enhance the reader’s mind is in the end so worthwhile and exciting. To express ourselves is not only good for our own inner man but also encourages others to come out of their shell and put pen to paper so to speak. My belief is that many a soul is too afraid to open up and be true to themselves for fear of rejection but as we take hold of our God given abilities, we will in time fly beyond all human restrictions and become the person we were intended to be.