The Sinner

by K. Trap Jones

Although I did ponder sharing my story

  If we had not ceased the nightly ritual.

  I wondered what they would think of me

  If I had told them that I had beaten the plague.

  Would they have seen me as a hero?

  Would they hold a feast in my name or even worship me?

  It was tempting, but the time was not appropriate.

  Some residents thought I had lost my sanity.

  I understood why they would think that as

  I had built a huge wall that blocked the beautiful horizon

  To fend off a fictitious approaching plague.

  I knew it was coming though,

  I knew that Mammon would be the one escorting it.

  Peace fell within the village as

  Travelers were turned away from a safe distance.

  We did not allow visitors or anyone who was not like us

  Within the inner vicinity of the wall.

  We forced hungry travelers

  To continue on their way and bypass our village.

  The idea was brutal in its intentions

  As most of them would not make it to the next town.

  The once healthy resources of our village

  That were offered to starving travelers were no longer gifted.

  Groups after groups were denied free passage through the gates,

  Which often times resulted in riots and violence,

  It came to the point that residents were cautious

  To exit the gate as they were afraid

  That they would be denied reentry.

  I saw firsthand several attempts

  By plague-ridden peasants to scale the wall.

  They were met with brutal hatred

  And thrown rocks that persuaded them otherwise.

  Due to my history, I was able to spot those who were infected.

  Most tried to conceal a certain limb

  Or completely cover themselves,

  But they were not fooling me.

  Even in the crowds outside,

  The plague infested ones were not wanted.

  They were beaten severely if anyone found out.

  Some non-infected people were even punished

  Merely because another traveler accused them.

  We turned away those begging for food and water,

  Even half-starved children.

  We wanted no one who was not already within the wall.

  The task to keep people out was a daunting one.

  Each of the villagers had a common cause so

  We equally shared the burden through night watches.

  We had to deny access to all who would threaten our lifestyles.

  We gave them no pity or remorse.

  The travelers sought out charity,

  We denied them of their request.

  We became a selfish stronghold in a plague infested world and

  We thought nothing wrong about it.

  With Mammon gone, everything was at peace within my life.

  I had given him his answer and not only saved myself,

  But saved the village as well.

  The pay for erecting such a mighty wall

  Had made me wealthy and content.

  Orders were exceeding my expectations as

  People required reinforced lumber to increase the security of their cottages

  As if the plague would not penetrate hardened wood.

  As with every day, I arose to the loving touch of my dog.

  When prepping the shop for my daily chores,

  I was greeted by my neighbor.

  He appeared distraught and after further questioning,

  It was revealed that my dog had bitten him.

  Apparently, he was tending to his garden late at night

  When my dog became estranged.

  He was not worried about it as it was just a scratch and

  He blamed the shadows of night as the reason for the confusion.

  His concern did grow a little as he showed me his wound.

  I looked to his arm and my chest began to tighten.

  It was as if Mammon himself was standing on it again.

  There was a small scratch that was surrounded by the blackened blood vessels

  I had known so well.

  My immediate reaction was to strike my neighbor dead.

  My rational thought prompted me otherwise.

  I asked who he was in contact with.

  He replied that he did nothing unusual

  That he greeted everyone as he did each day.

  My throat immediately became dry,

  I tried desperately to swallow.

  I called for my dog and noticed that his eyes were blood red.

  He snarled at me as I reached down to touch him.

  My neighbor was concerned and kept asking me questions, but

  My attention was directly upon my dog.

  He had been infected all along.

  Each day that I struggled with the curse of what to do,

  My choice had already been established.

  I had made the wrong decision.

  I should have chosen to duplicate the vaccine.

  What had I done?

  I witnessed the darkened blood vessels creep up his neck.

  He grasped his chest as his wandering eyes searched

  For some sort of rational reasons why it was occurring.

  He would never retrieve those answers

  As he soon fell lifeless to the ground.

  I walked out the front door and

  Gazed upon the village courtyard

  That was littered with decaying bodies.

  I had single-handily murdered everyone within our village.

  Those still alive tried eagerly to scale the wall,

  But the height was too much for them to handle.

  The village became their grave;

  The wall served as their tombstone.

  Within a matter of moments I was the only one standing

  Within my beautifully constructed wooden perimeter.

  I did not feel remorse,

  As I watched my fellow neighbors slump to their death.

  It was almost soothing to not have to fear the plague anymore.

  I offered no pity even as my dog collapsed.

  I was alive and healthy amongst a sea of contamination.

  I had what no others had and I was not about to offer it as charity.

  Loud pounding on the front gate

  Rang out through the barren courtyard.

  Even at that moment, travelers wanted in;

  They sought salvation.

  I walked over to the gate and unlatched it.

  People flowed in like a newly formed river.

  They clung to me with their blackened fingers and hands.

  They begged for help, but I could offer them none

  Nor did I want to.

  I looked upon them as mindless animals

  And treated them like cattle as I herded them inside.

  I had spared myself

  That shameless period before death and

  I was disgusted to be around them.

  I wanted to speed up the process of the plague

  Just to rid myself of their babbling moaning and agony.

  I climbed atop the gate and watched as miles of infested

  Travelers funneled through my wall.

  At that moment I realized the purpose of my construction.

  It was not meant to keep the plague out,

  Rather to serve as a place to house the dead.

  With everyone lifeless or on the verge of dying,

  My carpentry business obviously decreased.

  To fend off the insanity that was brewing within me

  From being the only living person,

  I began to construct coffins for the dead.

  I would randomly select a dead corpse from the courtyard and

  Search through their belongings.

  If they h
ad any kind of money or relics on them

  Then they would pay me for a coffin.

  I referred to them as the rich dead and

  Their bodies were placed within a special pile near my shop.

  Those with no money or valuable belongings

  Were considered the poor dead and were

  Thrown within a wide deep trench that I created.

  If I was approached by an infested living person

  Who begged me for help,

  I had them first empty their pockets.

  They would then be led to the appropriate pile

  Depending upon what they revealed.

  I had no personal connection with anyone;

  I considered myself alone on a dead island.

  However, my burial services proved profitable.

  I had to eventually construct a shed to house all of the

  Belongings that I was receiving.

  To avoid utter isolation, I propped up a few corpses

  Around the entrance of the village

  To serve as my welcoming committee.

  I only used the freshest looking bodies as

  I did not want to scare off my visitors.

  Due to the decaying method of the human body,

  I had to change out the committee on a regular basis.

  On one particular day while rotating my unpaid staff,

  I noticed Mammon waiting in line to enter.

  The vision of him struck me like a heavy mallet to the head.

  How could one person cause so much fear in me?

  I decided to withhold my emotions and waved to him.

  I greeted him and told him that he did not have to wait in line.

  We walked together into the courtyard with a bitter silence.

  Part of me was afraid that he was here with another question,

  But I tried not to think about that as he surveyed the two piles.

  While looking into my pit of poor corpses,

  He told me that he had forgotten to inform me

  About a small part of the question.

  My heart began to beat extraordinarily fast.

  My vision began to blur once again.

  My brow instantly started to collect sweat beads as

  He went on to say that he had forgotten to tell me

  That the vial of vaccine was only temporary.

  He said that the elders who were to receive the vial

  Were also going to add the finishing touches to it,

  Most importantly the longevity.

  I tried to swallow, but no saliva had built up within my mouth.

  I saw myself in Mammon for the first time.

  He looked upon me as I did my infected visitors

  With no remorse or pity.

  With the words he offered me,

  He also brought me the gift of death.

  I was not saddened by his visit nor did I dwell in his words.

  He gestured me one last smirk and

  Said that he would see me again.

  He added that he was proud of my choice.

  He leaped in my death trench and

  Vanished amongst the tangled corpses.

  As I stood on the threshold of the pit,

  The line of visitors continued flowing through the village gates.

  I decided to build one last coffin

  With the most prized pieces of wood.

  I deemed none of the previous dead

  To be worthy enough of that quality.

  As I felt my chest tightening under the pressure of the disease,

  I lifted my coffin and carried it well away

  From the pit to the inside of my shop.

  I walked passed my pile of riches

  That I had been collecting from the dead,

  I emptied my pockets of any coins and relics

  And paid for my own coffin.

  I moved my work bench and placed the coffin in its place.

  My legs began to slump and become weightless.

  I felt my ankles breaking as the disease hollowed out my bones.

  Leaning over the edge of the coffin, I managed to fall in.

  As I laid there on my back awaiting death,

  I pondered what my life would have been like

  If I had made the other choice.

  ~

  Why must you deny me access

  To my previous transcriptions?

  Why am I not allowed to understand what I am writing?

  Am I not doing what you have asked me to do?

  I am so alone with my thoughts that

  The ability to read my own words would be a blessing.

  I require more interaction as

  The solitary confinement within this cave

  Is deteriorating my mind.

  I demand more than just this quill and paper.

  I demand more than shadowy figures

  That do nothing more than lurk in the dark.

  I demand...

  ~

  I...I apologize for my previous thoughts and words.

  I will never demand anything again.

  I am grateful for what you have given me.

  I graciously accept the quest you have offered.

  I will do whatever you wish.

  I beg you to keep the shadows confined to the walls.

  I will never ask for anything again.

  My intentions are neither to anger you

  Nor betray you in anyway.

  I have come to the realization

  That I will not know what I have previously transcribed.

  The knowledge of that is a relief.

  From the numbers of my shadowy friends,

  I see that two are missing now.

  I view this positively,

  However I am very concerned

  With reaching the point where none are left.

  Does that mean I have finished my task

  And can go back to my farm?

  Surely once I fulfill the needs of God,

  He would allow my exit from this cave.

  I can only pray that my past memories

  Would be restored within my mind.

  How wonderful that would be?

  To be able to interact with other people

  Would also be a pleasant gift.

  The inability to hear any words

  Not coming from my mind is wearing on me.

  I can only talk to myself for so long

  Before I find myself annoying.

  I dread the fact that I am viewing my inner thoughts as an enemy.

  I know this sounds strange,

  But I often hear my thoughts

  And wish they were no longer there.

  I would imagine that complete silence

  Would not be any better, but I sometimes hope

  That my rapid thought patterns would decrease.

  I find that I am starting to argue with myself

  Which is undoubtedly gratifying to my shadowy friends,

  But only provides me with pressure that is uncontrollable.

  It is probably for the best that I do not know my own name.

  I would only use it to tell myself to be quiet.

  IV

  slOTH

  I woke to the sound of thunder,

  Which was a blessing as there was much

  Unfinished work to be done on the farm.

  Storms were abundant that time of year,

  The rain was much desired from the

  Dry spell the previous season brought.

  The output of my wheat had reached its peak.

  Even had me plowing new fields

  To fulfill the demands of the nearby cities,

  Which was gradually increasing.

  I had always handled all operations of my farm by myself.

  Labor during the days was long and tiring,

  But my effort was precise and stringent.

  My work ethic alone was the basis

  For overshadowing my compet
itors.

  Several new farms were erected over the years,

  I countered them by increasing my output and service.

  For many years, I had been the sole supplier of wheat.

  My product was unmatched by any competitor.

  With the construction of new villages and towns,

  Demand for wheat grew to the point where my fields doubled.

  My passion for work allowed me to fulfill the demands

  Although the increased production

  Provided me with much fatigue.

  I soon became accustomed to the change in my sleep pattern

  And even found it refreshing.

  I believed that if I worked while my rivals slept,

  My farm would remain successful.

  Less time sleeping translated into more time working.

  One aspect that I did not anticipate

  Was the large variety of usage for wheat.

  As the villages grew in size,

  Different influences spread across the region,

  People began to experiment and create new recipes involving the product.

  New ideas mixed with trade specialties

  Forced the consumption of wheat to increase dramatically.

  For the first time since running the farm,

  I was falling behind in my output and

  Demand for my product intensified greatly.

  I worried that if I did not meet the orders

  More competitors would arise.

  New competition would not be a welcomed sight for me.

  I viewed my inability to meet demand as a weakness and

  I was determined to do whatever in my power to stay ahead of my rivals.

  I came to the understanding that I could no longer handle the farm by myself.

  As much as the notion of acquiring help disgusted me,

  It became apparent in the quality of my product.

  In order to meet the daily requirements,

  I had to concentrate more on the quantity than the quality.

  That was against everything that I stood for.

  I needed to swallow my pride so that my output would not suffer.

  Finding an assistant would prove to be difficult.