Were burdened with robbing the dead of their flesh.
A small adjacent cave was excavated.
One of the most brutal areas,
The sounds of the slaughter
Could be heard from all corridors of the city.
The four Reapers were allowed individual thought.
A level of hatred for the humans
Had to reside within each of their minds
As the task required a certain level of disgust.
To mutilate another had to be based on emotions
So disfigured that neither pity nor remorse existed.
To do so, I fed their minds for days with memories
Of how they were bred into evilness
Toward a society that punished them.
Carrying elongated scythes and covered in black,
The hatred boiling within their veins
Revealed itself in unspeakable demeanors.
Their task altered their persona;
The blackness dwelling in their hearts came forth
And took hold of their characteristics.
An intimidation corrupted their mannerisms;
An intense power overcame their appearance.
Standing tall in posture, the four reapers
Struck fear in all that stood before them.
All flesh bearing souls left their bodies as trophies.
To not fracture the human mind, the cave was darkened.
The bodies were cast aside while the soul quickly exited
In order to not view its own cadaver.
To my dismay, the dead kept arriving.
To not overpopulate my city,
I would often times order the closing of the gates.
If they only knew what awaited them,
The dead would not be so anxious for entry.
I would summon the river and allow for a feast.
Standing upon the south wall, just above the gates,
I would watch as the swells tried to breach the cliffs.
The troubled river looked for my acceptance,
I made it clear that it would not topple my walls,
But to focus its efforts on the outlying fields.
The waves mutilated the flesh;
The tides swallowed the souls.
The stone walls fought against the river,
Holding back its onslaught.
The current left no portion of the fields untouched.
The flesh was chewed by the crests.
The tides gorged themselves and slowed the currents.
As the tide receded back into its trench,
The fields were littered with hills of bones.
I left the uneven terrain alone as I believed
It would slow the progress of new souls arriving.
Yet more leaked into my realm at an annoying pace.
I was unprepared for the aftermath of souls.
In the beginning, I thought I was only dealing with sin.
Spreading it like a disease.
But I was realizing there was so much more to my task.
I required more filtration areas to delay the incoming souls,
I charged my servants to erect more gates,
Allowing only small groups of souls
To enter into the outer bone fields.
The once easy path to Hell
Became contorted at the banks of the river,
Where I could flood the fields if needed.
However, the mindless souls began walking into the current,
Much to the acceptance of the river.
Another wall and gate were constructed
To push the awaiting souls back further
From the shoreline, but I still required
A way for the souls to travel through the river
With a small degree of safety so that
The majority would arrive to the awaiting Reapers.
As I pondered my options, Lucifer appeared beside me,
Caressing his beard with one hand.
He was appreciative of the pride I had
And the accomplishments I introduced.
However, my mind was plagued with thoughts
Both useless and unreasonable.
I did not want his praise;
I wanted his answer to my problem.
He was incapable of providing my disease with a cure.
Frustration conjured within my blood.
My eyes coated with red,
I released my anger upon a large boulder,
Tossing it violently into the river.
Instead of sinking, the rock skipped atop the ripples.
The action gave me an idea.
Two wooden docks, one on either side of the river,
Were constructed, but were toppled by the current.
Not wanting any such material penetrating its core,
The river destroyed any attempt that was built.
My second attempt was successful.
The new docks, forged from bone,
Withstood the devastation of the currents..
A large ferry was built from bones
And pushed through the rocky shoreline
To where it met with its new possessor: the river.
The waves crashed against the bone,
Violently rocking the boat.
The river comforted itself again
As I stepped foot into the belly of the ferry.
Acceptance was what I needed from the river;
Trust was what I demanded.
The current showed its understanding
By remaining tranquil and serene.
The wide vessel was capable of carrying
Hundreds of the dead at once across the river.
And a laborer soul was needed for that task.
Weakened souls were easily discarded
And never chosen for production tasks.
Only the strong willed were selected,
But they were difficult to find.
To the outer edges of my realm, I went.
I sought out strength and power.
An almost unattainable task within a sea of blabbering dead.
The closeness of the dead disgusted me.
Every touch and pull at my cloak sent me closer to wrath.
With a simple sway of my arms, a radius was gifted to me.
They were mindless, but not brazen enough to try again.
I grew my haven circle larger in the hopes
Of enticing just one to cross its threshold.
I waited patiently as I gazed around the crowd.
Within that dead cavern, who would be up for my task?
I desired a soul strong as their task would not be easy.
One with no fear as to why they ventured to my realm.
Someone distraught within the living and resentful.
I saw him towering above the rest.
A cloaked soul moving forward without care.
A man with no fear, pushing aside others.
His next step would separate himself from the rest.
With his next step, he would seal his fate.
With no weakness apparent,
He isolated himself from the others and neared me.
His height was twice mine;
His strength, more than all others combined.
I stopped him by placing of my hand on his chest.
His breathing was that of an ox bred for labor.
With a lack of scars, I could tell he was newly deceased.
His mind was tormented by visions of death,
But with no fear.
By merely being near him, I was able to see into his soul.
The ability to do so was new, but as I looked deeper
I could see who he was when he’d been alive.
He was a blacksmith that fell to the sin of wrath.
He became enraged when his mate was attacked
By a group of villagers and left for dead.
Distraught a
nd unwilling to live after finding her,
He took his own life to be with his love.
A blade to his heart brought him to me.
As his beloved surely ascended to be with God,
He descended to me, and I was grateful.
All crimes of sin were meant to be here.
His sadness for his love still remained deep in his soul,
Untouchable by even myself.
The blade still resided within his beating, bruised heart.
I eased his distressed mind by looking into his eyes.
Through the winds of the cavern,
All felt his agony; all felt his pain.
He accompanied me to the land of the living,
Where we ventured back to his homeland.
His lack of knowledge of the attackers plagued him,
As they were far gone upon the discovery of his mate.
However, I was aware of them.
Working in the cornfields,
The four men kept their dark secret to themselves.
I imagined the blacksmith would want to meet them,
So we visited them while they worked.
The stalks of corn were swaying in the warm breeze.
The sun was bright and danced within the blue sky.
Whether my intentions were known or not,
The perfect weather slowly became hazy,
As if death itself was cradling the atmosphere.
The wind increased with a chill;
The sun hid behind the clouds.
God knew why I was there; he showed displeasure
With the changes in weather, but they were subtle,
And I perceived that as acceptance.
We stood on the edge of the field,
Watching the four men busily collecting the crops.
Having never seen them before,
I had to connect the pieces for the blacksmith.
A tear rolled down his face upon hearing my words.
Since he never knew exactly what happened,
I offered him the true vision of the event
And he accepted by closing his eyes.
The four men followed his love from the village market
While he was away collecting water.
They overtook her with a brutality
Of which she could not defend herself.
Left to die under God’s will, the men rummaged
For artifacts not equaling the worth of a life.
Choking on blood, she hoped for salvation.
Grief filled the wound of the blacksmith;
Sorrow moistened his tongue.
Disappointment for not being there
To protect her watered his eyes.
No other words needed to be spoken.
No other visions needed to be seen.
I simply offered the blacksmith my scythe.
A handle built from my sacrifice;
A blade forged from my retribution.
His reflection glistened off the metal with sorrow.
His grip tightened as he looked to the field,
Glaring at each one who had stolen his peace.
I did not witness his anger nor his rage,
But I did hear the sounds of death spilling.
My scythe could be seen breaching the yellow sea,
Followed closely by arcs of blood raining down.
The hollowed screams chased off lingering birds.
The sound of my scythe slicing through human bone
Allowed me to follow his progress.
As quickly as he had entered, he emerged in front of me
With all four corpses, two on each shoulder,
And a sense of pride within his eyes.
No hesitation, no remorse.
He knelt before me, bowed his head
And raised my scythe in appreciation.
A justified revenge;
An action granted to only those most deserving.
We returned back to the cavern in my realm.
I allowed for the blacksmith to extract their souls.
The disgust he showed was honorable to behold.
No blade was used for extraction, only his bare hands
Tore through the flesh of the four murderers.
Each soul watched their body thrown so far
That they were lost in the haze above the river.
To be constantly reminded of his loss
And the torture his heart had endured,
He swallowed the four souls deep within his chest
Where they would serve him for eternity.
With his revenge subdued, his new task was to begin.
I soothed the river slightly, by submerging one foot
As I instructed the blacksmith to enter.
My notion was to reduce the anger of the tides,
Allowing him to feel the suffering of those entrapped.
The waves tore at his flesh as he tried to stay afoot.
The current then turned its attention to him,
Swirled around, and swallowed him whole.
My realm had seen violence and brutality prior,
But the unstableness of the river trembled the cavern.
Fleshless and angered,
The blacksmith rose from the boiling river.
His once blackened cloak was stained red.
The river spared no meat from his bones,
But left all internal organs untouched.
His ribcage expanded with every breath he took;
His bones crackled with every shift in movement.
His heart, still staked by the blade, pumped by the river;
His mind full of remembrance and understanding.
The ferry floated from the red haze of the cavern,
The bow split the bones as it reached the shoreline.
I gifted him a scythe with an elongated handle,
Long enough to reach down into the river bed.
The wooden shaft stained with the blood of his victims
And the battered dress of his mate
Tied to the top for all to see.
Before his destiny was to begin,
Another cleansing of the fields was in order.
With scythe in hand he walked back where dead waited.
The river needed to be fed
And who better to handle the task.
The power he displayed was perfection in my eyes.
With every swing of his weapon,
Flesh and blood flew amongst the dust filled air.
As the souls emerged, their bodies fell.
To cleanse his field, he sank his blade
Deep into the corpse piles and lifted a large amount.
What he did next appeased even my stubborn side
And insured that he was indeed the one for the task.
With a heavy rotation, he spun the shaft of his scythe
And tossed the lifeless bodies over the gate
Where they were greeted by the awaiting swells.
If angered for any reason,
The wrath of the blacksmith would reveal itself.
He would not have to answer to me regarding
How often or how much he fed his river,
But starvation was never an option.
A dissatisfied river affected the entire realm.
A satisfied river set the realm at ease.
***
Without even venturing to God’s land and unleashing sin myself,
My realm was being bombarded by more condemned souls.
Cells were carved into every wall within the caverns,
But still I required more.
Additional massive caverns were hollowed out.
No traveling soul could avoid walking past the prisons.
No traveling soul could avoid hearing
The consecrated sounds of the sentenced.
Every wall, every corner
Was speckled with the rusty bars of confinement.
Suffering echoed
through the connected caverns
Like a song traveling between ears.
There was no avoidance; there was only acceptance
As to what would greet a soul upon arriving at Hell.
I reserved the largest cavern for judgment.
Being the slowest of the filtration paths,
Judgment required a field to hold the waiting souls.
Each soul would be judged independently of others
On their sins while in their living human state.
Lesser sins would receive a sentence of citizen labor.
Those deemed unfit for society,
Would receive a sentence of isolation
And a personal pit of despair
Filled with visions of madness and contempt.
The fate of punishment was not highly desirable
As each soul would became a part of the walls.
Once imprisoned, their mindless thoughts
Would be tormented to the edge of insanity.
The patterns could be intensified
If their mind could withstand the bombardment.
Upon the separation between soul and body,
The mind remained in control, but without thought.
The sheer terror the soul endured
During that process was beyond explanation.
The mortal mind is a wonderful relic;
Capable of individual thought and judgment.
Capable of unique personality traits.
The darkened side of a mind is equally as wonderful
With the ability to be inflicted with pain and suffering.
Sentences and judgments penetrate
The rational portion and disease it from within.
What is left is a controlled mind infected
With a personal destiny or fate upon my choosing.
As the souls rot in their cells,
Their minds are portraying my thoughts;
My desires for how I want their punishments.
My pain and suffering seals their dreams.
My sorrow clouds their visions.
For eternity, they are a part of me.
I believed God’s plan was to change
The concept of mortal lives;
To be a dispute of one’s will.
Prior, life was a celebration of faith,
An opportunity of peace, love and tranquility.
Living was a gift from God,
With everyday a serene appreciation
For what he had given the land.
Along the journey, the faith of God was challenged.
To what extent, I cannot speak of.
The human life altered itself and was pushed further away
From its creator so that a journey could be crafted.
Much like the filtration area of my realm,
God too had formed crossroads,
Slowing the travels and testing the minds of his following.
The glory of God was now hidden from the humans.
The Harvester Page 7
