The Harvester

by K. Trap Jones

  The moon fled from the sky

  Taking the sparkling stars along with it.

  Clouds rolled through the night like galloping horses.

  The sands sifted through the air,

  Trying to persuade me to turn away.

  The dense, grainy wind tore at my exposed skin.

  The cloth in my cloak frayed and split,

  But my feet remained still.

  My intentions were to make it known that

  Nothing shall be hidden from me;

  Nothing shall be forbidden from my eyes.

  I had been left confused for much too long.

  I could hear the words of those with the scroll.

  The wind gifted me with their mind’s thoughts.

  They spoke of the origins of earth;

  They spoke of God’s creations.

  With my ear to the wind,

  The sands became more violent;

  The guards stepped toward me.

  God knew I was listening and ordered my removal.

  Their swords and armored boots pushed me back

  To where my ears no longer heard the thoughts.

  I dreamed of plaguing the minds

  Of those who transcribed the words.

  To corrupt the very foundation of the new religion

  Through the twisted words of the worshippers.

  Alas, God had foreseen my own temptations

  And prepared well for the possibility.

  I traveled to all the areas where the scrolls

  Were being transcribed and received the same greeting.

  A feeling of unwelcoming,

  Of disapproval through the winds.

  If God objected of my venturing,

  Of my existence after my task was completed,

  He would greatly disapprove of what was to come.

  My offering of a life in black would be granted to all.

  My next actions would upset

  The establishment of the new religion

  And forever change the thought patterns of man.

  The book would be my enemy,

  But also serve as my research.

  The book would guide me to the weaknesses

  And allow me entry into the worshipper’s mindset.

  I would serve as the demon they portrayed me to be.

  I would serve as the evilness that prowled the land.

  Chaos would be gifted to the otherwise content

  By acknowledgment of my being.

  They would alter my tale to appease their book,

  They concealed the side of God deemed unspiritual,

  But I would spread the true word.

  I cannot undo what was already transcribed,

  But my vengeance would serve as my infliction.

  The concealment of the truth would be my uprising.

  The practice of their faith

  Would be lost along with their prayers.

  No doubt, the book would serve them well

  As it was relatable to their simple mortal minds.

  It would bring about an understanding of death

  And the glory they would receive within Heaven,

  But there would be a darker side too,

  One that is not understood.

  One that the mind could not envision.

  There would be a side that would not be transcribed;

  That would not be practiced in the congregations.

  A side full of shadows, far from the eyes,

  Far from the depicted angels.

  One where flesh would serve as a meal;

  Where bones would be discarded.

  Most will never know the darkened side of the religion,

  The one they worship and follow without guidance.

  Their prayers would be that of kindness and affluence.

  Full of warm sun and cool wind.

  They sought to kneel beside him on his throne,

  To stand before him in righteousness.

  They long for their eyes to behold him,

  For their throats to drink his wine.

  Would they be as faithful if the book spoke of the truth?

  Would they still worship

  If the book told the full tale?

  Would they walk the path

  If the book revealed the alternative?

  We shall see.

  VI. DEFIANCE

  I was at another crossroad.

  As sinners walked through the glory of Heaven,

  I walked amongst my fields.

  As the damned envisioned God’s valleys,

  I walked amongst my fields.

  As the unjust stood before the gates of God,

  I stood alone before mine.

  I knelt upon the path and prayed,

  To whom I did not know.

  I prayed for the truth, for the understanding,

  But mostly I prayed for the strength.

  I had no successes; only failures.

  I was immortal, but dead inside.

  The sins, the demons, the choices;

  All for nothing.

  The release of sin upon man was foreseen.

  The acceptance of sin by man was foreseen.

  The birth and death of the Lamb was foreseen.

  My demise was foreseen.

  I had no more depression.

  Resentment was what flowed through me.

  A disgust for Heaven

  And all who walked amongst her fields.

  I had no sorrow for myself.

  I had no hatred for the Son;

  He too was a part of the plan.

  As I kneeled in Hell,

  I knew my tale had not yet ended.

  Surrounded by death, the humans became my enemy.

  They had not experienced the glory of my existence.

  They had not experienced the hatred of my hand.

  Sheltered sins of a scripted plan would not suffice.

  Acceptance from God no longer plagued my mind.

  If, indeed, the humans desired sin

  Then they would be granted just that.

  The seven sins would be amended.

  The sins of God were accepted by all.

  My sins would provide another path.

  A path of separation from the kingdom.

  I would twist the original sins into my own

  To where the edge of good and evil

  Would be a thin crevice.

  I opened my eyes to reveal each of my fellow demons.

  I did not need to speak;

  They knew of my intentions.

  I offered them each a choice.

  To repent for their sins and return to God

  Or journey with me one last time.

  I would not be ashamed of their answers.

  My respect for each of them was too strong

  To alter my feelings toward them.

  I could not demand their fall.

  I could not demand their denial of God.

  Each would be gifted passage from my realm

  Followed by my admiration and acceptance.

  They were each servants of God before my rise.

  The plan of God was successful,

  But fate had extended my purpose—not theirs.

  As each kneeled before me, their decisions became clear;

  Our destinies became one.

  We would not fall victim to repenting.

  We would not deny who we were.

  We all went our separate ways,

  With the task to spread more sin upon mankind.

  Pure sin was our weapon.

  Sin that would alter the foundation of society.

  A blanket of evilness that would cover the land.

  No more individual sin toward individual man.

  Mass wrath, mass greed, mass sloth,

  Mass gluttony, mass lust, mass envy

  And mass pride would fall upon the world.

  We would reveal ourselves to back the tales.

  We would make it
so that God’s gifts were unattainable,

  And all would be infected.

  Throughout the land, my fellow demons went.

  With minds full of sin,

  They headed out—all but Lucifer,

  Who remained within Hell.

  After they had departed,

  I traveled to the banks of the troubled river.

  It could sense my sorrow; it could feel my pain.

  The tides were the calmest I had ever seen.

  The ferry slowly sailed towards the dock

  As I awaited the arrival of the blacksmith.

  No words were spoken

  As the vessel carried me to the other side.

  With foot upon the banks, the ferryman

  Allowed the river’s hunger to crumble the docks.

  With staff in hand, he bowed before me.

  I was not in need of his services anymore.

  His soul was mine, but his heart belonged to another.

  If given a choice, he would’ve stayed by my side,

  But I did not offer him one.

  By releasing the grip on his soul,

  I allowed him to exit Hell,

  And begin a quest in search of his beloved.

  With no master, the river buckled the hardened ferry

  Allowing current to overcome the vessel.

  Gripping my scythe tightly, I climbed the rocky cliffs

  And came to the fields of bone outlining the city.

  No wandering souls, no howls of the dead;

  Only peace.

  The city; the relic of my endeavors stood bare

  The cells of my prison emptied.

  The corridors of the courtyard were vacant.

  Lucifer appeared alongside me as my pride was strong.

  I often pondered my choice, whether it was wise or not,

  But Lucifer reminded me of pride through memories.

  An acknowledgment of acceptance,

  An acknowledgment of gratitude for all I had done.

  Never before had someone granted me understanding.

  I accomplished everything God intended me to do.

  If not for me, the Lamb would not exist.

  If not for me, mankind would not have sinned.

  If not for me, society’s faith would not be tested.

  God owed me;

  The Lamb owed me all that I had lost.

  My reclamation would be in the form of sin upon man.

  The population responsible for the death of God’s Son.

  I would prove to both

  That man was not capable of repenting.

  Death of sinners should be mine for the control.

  Those who follow me

  Should not be given another chance.

  They will be damned to me for all eternity.

  My kingdom shall prosper once again.

  Lucifer and I overlooked the skulls of the goats.

  The horns of the animal protruding from the dirt,

  Their hallowed eyes staring back at us.

  We stood at the threshold of a great challenge,

  One that would destroy all of us.

  A purpose more meaningful than I alone.

  An idealism that would forever separate my kingdom

  And split the reality of the human civilization.

  As the congregations distorted my image

  And destroyed my tale, my name still lingered.

  My shadow still lurked in the darkness.

  A threat of awareness, but society would have no idea

  Or warning as to what bombardment lay ahead,

  An Age of Evil.

  It was time for me to leave

  And realize my full potential.

  Lucifer stayed behind in the city

  And awaited any outcome that approached.

  An honor much obliged from the once great angel.

  ***

  I ventured to a valley between two mountain ranges.

  The tall trees were full of life,

  Swaying beneath the warmth of the sun.

  Their leaves were that of the brightest green.

  Their bark was a wonderment for any palm to touch.

  Hidden well from the greedy human hands,

  Nature was untainted and serene.

  A true essence for what the world was meant to be.

  The roof of the trees hid my travels from the sky.

  The sun’s rays could only capture hints of movement.

  With every stream of light that pierced the trees,

  They tried desperately to understand my intentions.

  The winds shifted the trees in order to view me,

  But the thickened vegetation was too difficult to bend.

  The shadows were my guide.

  Knowing what they shielded from their creator,

  Caused the trees much suffering and despair.

  Their twisting trunks moaned as I passed;

  Their branches trembled as I walked.

  All animals fled as I passed.

  Much like an approaching storm,

  The animals foresaw my intentions, too,

  And made haste far from the valley.

  Still the sun tried desperately to see me,

  But my path snaked between the trees at random.

  With a sharpened scythe across my back and

  A rusty chain in hand, I was not ready to be seen.

  The chain was attached to a well-known prophet

  Who I pulled behind me.

  The tightened links choked his throat.

  His hands clamoring for freedom;

  His feet struggled to stay afoot.

  The trees wept with their fallen leaves.

  Their roots unearthed in hopes to hinder my travels.

  The prophet pleaded with me for his release.

  He offered me the opportunity to repent.

  I grinned at his offer.

  He promised me prayer in solitude.

  I tightened the chain in hopes

  Of halting his babbling tongue.

  We reached the edge of the forest;

  The edge of my sheltering.

  With my next footstep, I would begin my fate.

  The skies would no longer be confused as to my actions.

  I could see the edge of the sunlight upon the ground,

  A crossroad per say.

  The height of the trees and the angle of the sun

  Created a perfect line serving as my judgment.

  My demons awaited my next step.

  One step would begin the fall of mankind.

  One foot would battle the righteousness of the Lamb.

  I took a deep breath and smelt Heaven.

  A last temptation,

  A fleeting hope to protect the plan, I’m sure.

  I could taste the sweet nectar of the orchards.

  My tongue moistened with the aroma of wine.

  A cool breeze nestled within my beard,

  Soothing my hardened, scarred skin.

  My farmland appeared in the distance.

  Fields of wheat, populated with livestock.

  The vision hesitated me,

  But I knew the memory was not mine.

  Much like everything else gifted to my mind,

  They were visions to keep me humbled,

  To prevent me from straying from the path.

  With a lone step that would be heard across the land,

  My foot broke into the sunlight.

  I stared at the skies as I entered the circle of light,

  Pulling the rusty chain of my prisoner.

  With myself and the prophet out of the forest,

  They sky quickly grew dim.

  The wind increased to stumble my approach.

  Within the middle of the circle,

  I held the prophet before me

  And pushed his face to the dirt with my foot.

  He would prove my disobedience.

  He would serve as my means to an end.

&nbs
p; As the clouds thickened to black, I waited.

  As the mountains trembled in anger, I waited.

  As the ground shook in rebellion, I waited.

  I needed to hear her song before I did anything else.

  I needed to know she was approaching.

  With nothing but the wind chiming,

  I brandished my weapon, lifted the prophet’s head

  And rested his throat upon the sharpened metal.

  The sky roared, and the earth began to crack.

  Tears flowed down the prophet’s face.

  Filtering out the thunder and lightning,

  I was focused upon the wind,

  The only vessel that would aid her song.

  If I was indeed always within her reach,

  Then it would not be long before she arrived.

  My cloak flapped in the blistering wind.

  My foot sank deeper into the back of the prophet,

  Applying more pressure to his neck.

  From a distance, I heard it.

  That faint sound of her hymn from behind the trees.

  I no longer feared her;

  I no longer dwelled in her existence.

  She would have my turmoil no longer.

  Her hymn grew louder

  As I saw her emerge from the trees.

  I did not look upon her beauty with awe.

  I greeted her with a disrespectful grin,

  But she did not arrive alone,

  A second hymn echoed hers.

  Soon my ears detected several hymns

  As different banshees joined the first.

  My throat dried; my tongue clamored to swallow

  As three servants of God stood around me.

  Their lips hummed as they gazed to the prophet,

  Projecting the visions back to God.

  One knelt down to the face of the prophet.

  I tightened my grip upon the scythe,

  Prompting her to go no lower.

  The banshees snarled with disgust.

  They longed to tear the flesh from my bones,

  But they remained at a distance

  As my blade caressed the soft skin of the prophet.

  My mannerism became relaxed;

  I had something they wanted.

  They gestured toward the ground, desiring me to kneel.

  Perhaps an opportunity to repent for all I had done.

  I saw it as a denial of all I had accomplished.

  No, I would not kneel,

  And I had demands of my own.

  I demanded a safe haven for my demons.

  The mouths of the banshees all rejected my words.

  I demanded the return of my farmland.

  The mouths of the banshees all rejected my words.

  I demanded the destruction of the repenting process.

  The mouths of the banshees all rejected my words.

  With all my demands shunned,

  I had nothing else to live for.

  All my hopes cast aside without much thought.