Angels from Hell

As I proceeded down the county road
with a small cottage far in sight,
the yellow light of the early dusk
gradually succumbed to the intensifying amber.

On the sky were thin streaks of cloud cutting through the red,
the muted white somewhat soothing the intensity of its background.

Over the west were the descending remnants
of an obviously once eminent sun,
which appeared unable to continue carrying its own weight.
It gave out its last breaths
before sinking into the mass of earth below,
indignantly.

The scene remained lifeless, despite all this activity.
The sky was boundless,
but only marginally contrasted
with the innumerable acres of crop below.

Pervading the atmosphere was a stillness,
a silence known only to death itself.
It seemed that the entire place
was suffering an insurmountable agony
that was infinitely increasing.

The shrubs were voiceless.
The wind, if it blew at all, did not make its activity known,
for there was no sound,
no movement of leaves,
nor rustling of loose fences,
or the gliding of clouds above.
The whole place immersed into a deep mourning
not even the gaiest of music could distract.

I hastened, battling against my exhaustion.
A nameless, fathomless fear arose inside of me.
I could feel my body trembling,
but for a reason I scarcely discerned.
My expression was robust as usual,
but my countenance was tending towards a softness
betraying confusion and fatigue.

When my body hit the ground, I felt nothing.

I awoke and found myself lying on some soft green turf.
The sky was blue, I saw birds flying.
But the aversion immediately returned and I was aghast,
discovering the profoundness of my fear.
It was like a nightmare that endlessly repeated itself,
though in different forms,
but all grotesque,
eventually turning into reality.

I let my thoughts wander,
in a futile attempt to escape
from the grasp of the horrific images
beating savagely in my heart.

I continued with my journey, without looking back,
because it was not a time for reminiscence.
I walked over field over field of yellow crop 

for hours too many to count,
staggering on,
before I finally heard the advent of horses.

Immediately the fear returned.

A battalion of about twelve horsemen surrounded me.
I was taken to a nearby stone house
where there were fifty more soldiers,
their faces all shining like cold metal.
Some of them had large breasts,
anonymous creatures,
angels from hell,
with monstrous physiognomies.

I was devoured by my own fear.
It seemed my entire being had emerged from nothingness,
and I would fade away into the same nothingness any moment,
and disappear forever.

"You have betrayed the great Rus",
said one of the soldiers.

I froze, but my instinct for flight took over.
I exhausted my remaining strength
and hit the officer on his face.
The other soldiers wasted no time and motioned,
closing on me......

Outside the stone house, the air was warm
and filled with the sweetness of lilies.
There was a small pond some way down the footpath,
its water scintillating with the fractured beams of sunlight.
The wind blew soundlessly,
undisturbed by the human madness inside.

Then came darkness,
the darkness of death,
the denial of God,
the Great Punishment.

But there was one person,
who was oblivious to the dark.
He looked up the skies,
and saw twenty seven stars.
The light shone through his heart,
and lighted up his face.
Then, he examined his conscience,
and saw all he had,
was a staff,
and a sling.

"Journey" by Angela Zhang, written by Corrinne May