by Krishna Rose
Breaking open a cage, they cut one prisoner free, pausing, while the frightened captive swam with all his might towards the water’s surface—in hope of freedom. The sea serpent waited, giving him a taste of liberty’s promise—then the chase was on. In a determined frenzy they hunted him down, deriving great pleasure in the fear they generated. It was cruel. The beast finally caught the prisoner in its jaws, while the sharks taunted him threateningly. At first the escapee attempted to fight back, kicking and screaming with all his might. With the promise of freedom having been taken from him, the thought of again being imprisoned was more than he could bear.
His determined assault on them provoked great amusement amongst the sea creatures. Humiliating the man in degrading ways, the howls of those satisfied beasts as they tore at his flesh, till he was severed limb from limb, would forever haunt me. I was alarmed by the ferociousness of their unbridled attack. The man died slowly, watching in horror as the beasts ate his flesh, while the remaining prisoners watched from their cages, fearing they might be next.
“Vengeance is always ready at the helm,” the High-Priest said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
The reptilian creature swept between their cages again, rattling them with its tail as it screamed obscenities at them. “God has abandoned you! God is evil, for He allows you to suffer like this!” the beast said maliciously, misleading them into deeper confusion. Meanwhile, the heavenly sounds of the angelic choir above, echoed through the river like a wave of loveliness—offering hope to the hopeless.
“These men have done despicable things. That is why they return such violence unto them. Though it is gut-wrenching to witness, it is just . . .” the High-Priest explained, giving me a taste of righteous anger.
All at once, compassion was gone from me. I was pleased to see them suffer! I had never felt so glad—for the intricate design of the Lord’s justice system was perfection itself! I surprised myself, appalled by my lack of charity—disregard was a new and foreign emotion.
“Make her cross the bridge!” the beast demanded, pointing at me with its spindly clawed finger.
The High-Priest nodded, agreeing with the beast, and I was instantly returned to the surface, where I gasped for air. My clothing clung to me, making it near impossible to climb up the icy bank. Numb from the penetrating chill which had unsympathetically struck me down, I cowered, eyeing the bridge suspiciously, wondering what the High-Priest had in store for me. I wished I could have just a moment of reprieve by which to catch my breath. But the High-Priest pressured me to go forward.
“The souls you meet on the other side, shall restore to you your compassion. Do not fear them,” he said convincingly.
Grime chafed at my skin. Cold as ice, I reached for one of the two lit torches at the bridge’s entrance, gripping it tightly in my right hand. Its light offered me a sense of security. Stepping onto the bridge cautiously, its surface was unusually slippery. Strange voices began singing songs of heartbreak, and with it, thousands of birds fell out of the sky—dying, plunging into the river below. ‘Food for the creatures.’
The bridge was bestrewn with webs upon which giant spiders waited for prey. Rats the size of pigs scampered back and forth. I held firm to the side with all of my strength so as not to fall, stifling a scream upon seeing a spider scurry at sight of me. ‘They dislike the light,’ I thought to myself—‘As it is with all creatures of the dark.’
My heavy breathing stuck to the stale air like mist, still, in spite of my tangible fear, I moved towards the voices nearing the bridge’s end. As soon as my feet touched land, I was met by a throng of distressed people who had come to meet me. It was as if they knew me and wished to reveal the depth of cruelty wielded unto them by the prisoners in the watery depths below.
One by one, their victims took turns to share their sadness and stinging torment. My soaked robes were soon stained with the ashes of their memories, for I bore witness to great woe, which seeped into the pores of my mind until I ached with sympathy.
An elderly woman held me to her bosom. In her youth, she had been a sight of such loveliness that all the men in her village desired her. One day, she was forcibly taken by numbers of them, to satisfy their sick greed to have her for their pleasure. Giving up gold for ashes, they ruined their lives for one short moment of amusement, and as she wept into my shoulder, I apologized to her for her suffering.
‘Return to her the vision of her own crime,’ the High-Priest’s voice whispered in my ear.
I did not understand what this bidding alluded to. Nevertheless, I reached for her again, trusting that whatever was needed would come to me. And it did. Visions came in a stream of images into my mind’s eye for the woman and I to view. In another life, she had been a man who had stolen innocence from women. Committing heinous sexual crimes with strangers who she had forcibly taken unto herself, she saw now how she been returned what was due. Shocked, she tried to pull away, unable to face the truth of her own wrongdoing. Still, I held her close, as more images demanded recollection. Each brutally cruel act dished out from her own hand, coin for coin, matched the savage experiences of her own rape and trial.
Finally accepting the truth of it, I let her go. Falling to the ground, relieved of her greed to see men suffer for what was done unto her, she was reborn—refreshed by the balm of forgiveness. Together we held hands and wept. Blessing her, she moved on, baptized in spirit.
Compassion flooded into my heart, which just moments before had been empty with justification.
Next, a politician came before me. He was a proud man, despite being alarmingly disfigured. Taking his hands in mine, I observed how everyone he had met, had rejected him because of his ugliness. In his youth he wanted to marry, but three of the local boys, now prisoners in the cages below, had conspired against him—for they competed for the same girls. They had devised a wicked plan by which to wreck his good looks, by pouring acid on him while he slept.
From that day forth, all the girls in his village had found him so grotesque, that they liked him not. These rejections had made a bitter, lusty man out of him. The boys were never caught for their crime, for they denied having anything to do with it, so they went on to do monstrous things—all of which were now being repaid. The poor man remained deeply insecure for the rest of his life, but made up for it by becoming powerful in politics.
As a politician, he fulfilled the urgent demands of his flesh, often by force, for he was above the law. One of the prisoners below, had been his subordinate who conspired against him—to de-seat him. Catching the politician in a lewd act, he set him up for a fall. Desirous of his position and power above all things, the subordinate would stop at nothing to get what he had set his mind upon.
The politician was filled with shame and remorse for succumbing to his lower nature again and again. He was publicly humiliated, both for his deformed appearance and now also his sexual proclivity. Living a sad and lonely life, he vowed to seek vengeance.
In a previous lifetime, this same politician, burned a woman for being a witch. He had caused great suffering to both the woman and her family, for the woman was innocent of the crimes which he accused her of. He saw the truth of how he had forged for himself a life of disgrace—his debt repaid.
Next it was revealed to him the cause of his disfigurement. In a different life, hundreds of years before, he had viciously attacked and stabbed a man in the face and neck for cheating with his beautiful wife, who by then was pregnant with her lover. Out of rage, he had beaten his wife until all beauty was stolen from her. His greed to possess her entirely, had driven him to forcefully abort the baby from his wife’s womb, sucking off the head of the child with a murderous tool—killing both child and mother.
The man shivered upon seeing the truth of his kismet. Weeping, he fell to the ground
, remorseful with understanding.
“You are forgiven. Now go forth Brother and sin no more,” I said, blessing him as he went on his way, regretful of a lifetime spent in anger towards God for creating him thus.
One man had habitually been a bully—always needing to be right. He labored hard to hold positions of importance while all judged and envied him. Out of pride, he became harsh and arrogant, treating his subordinates with cruel disregard.
As a boy, he was viciously beaten by his father, who could oft be heard shouting, “You will never amount to anything!”
Henceforth, the boy had made a decision to always be on top, to prove his father wrong. His father was one of the prisoners in a cage below. The boy, now a man, had intimidated and bullied people all of his life so that they could not ill-treat him. I could see his inner agony and isolation. His greed had been born out of great struggle, yet it had devoured him.
My heart broke to see why people do what they do. Their sorrows became mine, and soon I was riddled from head to toe with compassionate yearnings—keen to offer accountability and responsibility as a means of forgiveness and deliverance.
I felt their sore, bitter hurt, and was moved by how easily sadness could be cast aside with proper knowledge and understanding of things. I shuddered, for my spiritual bloodstream awakened in me a great need. Seeing so many souls lined up before me, I wept. ‘There is limitless misery in the world of the living and dead,’ I thought.
As each one came forward to share their grievances with me, their faces were filled with justified anger, believing themselves to be victims of some cruel twist of fate. Even so, they hesitated before me, for they knew without exception that they would now be faced with the truth of their existence, and this frightened some of them—not all were brave enough to meet the challenge.
‘Remember Mary, forgiveness is mercy given at the time of repentance,’ the High-Priest reminded me.
I grew weary. My body ached with tiredness. Yet inspired, I was able to go on, for so great was their need.
Offensive guilt had hindered these souls’ good fortune for centuries. Bursting with the flaming heat of their greed, they had smoldered, impassioned by the biting voices of resentment. The uncomfortable threads which had bound their souls to the souls of their perpetrators, had been marred by greed.
‘Just requital is returned unto them through you, Mary. You have now become a conduit for people’s absolution. When the sun is present in the mind, there can be no hint of darkness. Therefore the balm of spiritual love should be taught—for this becomes our remedy. The agitation of greed, produces anger—which like an inferno, drags people to dishonor themselves and others.
‘Even a little advancement on the path, protects them from dangerous situations, both in life, and in the afterlife. Therefore we plow forward, even in the face of adversity. God is not artificially imposed on the soul, for He exists within their essence—even though they do not know it. All souls seek lasting happiness, and though their attempts are crushed every step of the way, still they do not see the truth of their mistakes, for they are diseased with misconceptions, that cover over their true spiritual identity.
‘Remaining in darkness, they do not step out of the shadows to taste what is in the light. Ultimately, for such souls, it is in death that the truth is revealed to them—for they were deceived by their proclivity for worldly gossip, worthless opinions, and useless endeavors. How can the Lord be manifest in the heart of one infected by greediness and baseless reasoning?’
The unhappy faces of people’s past vanished to dust. Retaliation retreated into the refuge of the foggy mists. Malevolent sin from long ago, washed away by the torchlight of knowledge and understanding. Many a scandal had torn families and nations apart, causing unnecessary bloodshed and misery. If people knew what damage they do unto themselves, as well as unto others, they would certainly choose differently.
Veil five had revealed to me the inescapable problems of human existence. In this valley of death, I had faced all manner of atrocities to become known as the “Penitent One.” Yet it would never be enough for me to carry on with titles and praise upon my name without offering remedy unto those who are misguided. For these hands of mine would never rest—not until each chain and rope is unbound.
Once the time had come, I crossed back over the bridge—a transformed woman. The High-Priest slipped into my hand a scalloped shell as a keepsake. “This is an emblem of the shelter which you embody and offer unto all who suffer,” he said. “For all time, your name will be remembered by this emblem—for you are the light in the dark and the defender of the fallen.”
I clasped the open seashell in my hand, moved by his words, and wept one solitary tear which fell into its cavern. There inside—a perfectly rounded pearl appeared within its center.
A circle of thick mist surrounded us and once more we stood beneath the two tall oak trees. The roots of the trees, like snakes, hung in the air above us, writhing, while the trunks stood strong, like sentinels.
CHAPTER 36
HELL—VEIL SIX
We cannot run from our own demons, but we can rise above them. And though they may cling to us like shadows—eventually they will tire, for when we give them no nourishment, they will starve and soon be gone from us forever.
Having passed through the next layer of death’s unyielding gates, the Angel of Justice, seated himself upon an imposing throne, recalling the events which had brought the souls of gluttony hither. Before the crowds who had come for entertainment, voluminous leather-bound books were piled high, wherein the violations of the gluttons were recorded.
Filed inside golden bookcases which soared into the skyline, each ledger stored every soul’s life—bound in human skin—penned in blood. Books were gliding down from above upon mention of each prisoner’s name, landing before the judge, who then deliberated and meted out a just penalty.
Hundreds of deceitful serpents writhed excitedly, as chapter by chapter, the books opened up their hefty pages. The crude creatures’ forked tongues flickered spitefully upon detecting foul misconduct. They thirsted for vengeance—for that is the nature of a snake.
Court apprentices came and went, chatting amongst themselves in whispers and nods. Their faces were distorted, yet their bodies beautiful—‘A bit of Heaven and a bit of Hell.’ As each soul was brought forward for judgement, they eyed the dead suspiciously. The books’ bindings slowly unfastened, and as they did so, slender black snakes gracefully unwound the spiral-bound pages, unlatching the fastenings for all present to bear witness.
A troubled look came upon the faces of the condemned as they remembered their frivolity with anguish. No longer hidden behind closed doors, all of their transgressions would here be uncovered.
Witness accounts of each person’s misdeeds were read aloud, reporting to all, for their entertainment, the shameful renderings of a life misused. Undeterred by their public humiliation, many still pridefully held their heads high, even in the face of such embarrassment. Although the offenders tried to remain steadfast in the face of adversity, there was no escaping the laws of accountability—which they knew was imminent.
“You stand here before me, proudly approaching the chair with your heads held high, in spite of knowing that you have nowhere to run,” the judge began. “Only those lacking in intelligence would to dare stand before me with pride at their helm,” he said scanning them carefully. “You chose to break God’s laws, thus you have been brought before me to receive your judgement, which will determine your fate in the next,” he explained with a heavy sigh.
Scrambling to reverse what was said and done in their names, the miscreants, using broken sentences, reasoned with the Angel of Justice, who allocated verdicts having full knowledge of what had passed. For the books never
lied—only people do.
“Follow the laws that God commands and sin no more,” he told them. “And when you are sufficiently honest, bend the knee and pray for holy mercy.”
“But Sir,” one man argued, “I have spoken to God so rarely, that I do not think He would know who I am.”
“You believed in and put your faith in people—not in the Lord,” the judge said matter-of-factly. “Consequently, you were enslaved by the chains of entitlement and wanting. You have been ignorant of your own inheritance. Being rich in spirit, you instead preyed on human weakness, hoping their faith would crumble, for it threatened your pleasure seeking. Strength of character is the cornerstone of any society. Without it, the world is lost, as are its people. Though the well-marked path is seldom easiest . . .” he said squinting at them beneath his spectacles.
The scoundrels who had sinned against nature, were duly sentenced, returned to earth in the body of an animal—whichever creature they had most enjoyed feasting upon. The pride they had held so dear was immediately seized from them. The awaiting offenders shifted unsettlingly, knowing their turn in the Hall of Mirrors was close at hand. Hoping it might be possible to appease the judge in his decision-making, begging lenience, they clapped and showed party spirit when others were condemned—hoping the judge might notice their suitability for a position in the courts, or even amongst the aristocratic clans of the Shadow Classes. But the underworlds cannot be fooled by dishonesty and sympathy is not something that the judge granted.
Several of the angels present shouted and yelled, shaking their fists in the air as the perpetrators’ transgressions were read aloud. “Hear! Hear!” they roared, when the sword of fairness struck.
Gluttony moves people in subtle ways. Some use it to hold onto coin, which under lock and key might accrue into a great mountain of wealth. Miserly, paying only the lowest wage to their hardworking subordinates, they grow rich upon the backs of those who slave for their masters. Without concern, they procure security for themselves, not understanding, that death, when it comes, leaves every man and woman empty in the pocket.
