The End and The Beginning

Tags

amreading, amwriting, change, civilization, differences, division, Flash Fiction, greed, human nature, knowledge, learning, lessons, mistakes, perpetual existence, repetition, tools, truth, unchanged, unity, writingcommunity

 

Richard Ehrlich photography, from “Homage to Rothko, Malibu Series” 2012
(In collaboration with R. Mac Holbert, a series of montages composed from original Malibu sky images as an Homage to Mark Rothko)

 

I wrote this story a while ago. I submitted it without success. I think this is the right time to share it. Dismal, but true. We don’t change, do we?

 

 

The End and The Beginning

 

They said the Day of Judgement had come and the end of the world was near. Then the skies turned granite, hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis devastated towns and villages for days until all the unwanted were washed away from the surface of the planet.

Waking on strange beach, I looked around and saw that everything had changed. Not a building in sight, nor any remnants of “civilization”. A vast emptiness as far as the eye could see, bordered by tree covered hills. Even the sun didn’t look familiar, an alien shade of red, casting a rosy light upon the land.

Following the sound of water gushing from an unseen source, I dragged my feet towards it until I came upon a rivulet fed by a spring. Scattered around its banks, people talked to each other while perusing me with suspicion as I approached. I bowed my head, then cupped my hands and drank water to quench my thirst.

Resting on the grass to observe the survivors, I noticed everything was different. Snow White was no longer white, but black. Rapunzel had close-cropped hair. Alice had lost her wonderland. Soldiers and pirates exchanged clothes and identities, as Sleeping Beauty walked around, eyes wide open. Lords had become peasants as peasants flaunted their elegant outfits.

“Who are you?” a young girl asked.

“No one special. I’m me.”

“How come you haven’t changed?”

“No idea. Are we on a different planet? Is this Earth or elsewhere?”

“We don’t know, yet. Nobody does. We’re gathering to decide on a plan.”

I joined the discussion about our survival and voted to move up the hills to take shelter rather than staying on the beach in case of a Tsunami. Perhaps we could find food up there and a safe haven to settle.

Scouts explored the mountains and returned with the news of a valley beyond the hills. Hunting for food with sharpened sticks, on our way, we reached the meadow at dusk. Gathered around fires lit with flint,  the head count of 500 remaining humans discussed the strategy of our survival on this strange planet.

“Back to the stone age,” one said.

“At least we have the knowledge. We can make tools, wheels, and shelters. Start farming, agriculture. Keep livestock, form a community.”

Knowledge without tools was a sad consolation, but we could always try as humans had done in the past and advanced.

Survival being our mutual cause, we worked in harmony as a leader emerged in the colony. He formed a council of advisors, and much to my surprise, included me they called Unchanged. It seemed like a privilege, but I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it meant unchangeable, inflexible, rigid. Was I so, though I tried very hard to adapt to the difficult conditions of our existence?

“A transformation,” they said. “A test for humanity to do better this time, understanding the past to build the future. At least we speak the same language and can communicate. We’re civilized without being civilized.”

I wasn’t sure about that either because I heard a wise woman and a wise man speak.

“You know what will happen at the end of this, don’t you?” she said.

He chuckled. “Politics, greed, wars, division, and devastation. The rich and the poor.”

“Progress and destruction.”

“Can’t we prevent this, having the knowledge?”

“Not unless we can stop time, but you know we can’t change human nature.”

 

I wept with the knowledge that someday this world would end, too, despite the efforts of survival and co-operation here. Perhaps, that’s why I hadn’t changed. I represented all of them, in my perpetual state of being.

 

Thank you for reading.  🙂

Behind a Cloud

Tags

acceptance, Blue Mosque, bombs, conflict, differences, Galata, Golden Horn, guns, Hagia Sophia, Hippodrome, Istanbul, nationality, Obelisk, peace, race, rejection, religion, separation, suicide-bomber, terrorism, The Bosphorus, Underground Cistern, unity, war, weapons

 

This story from Ripples on the Pond, inspired by a true story,  is dedicated to the memory of  innocent people killed in Christchurch, New Zealand, today, and to many others in Europe, in France, England, and Germany, in The United States, and all over the world, as victims of terrorist attacks in the name of religion, nationality or race.

 

Behind a Cloud 

 

In the old town of Istanbul, the light of a sunny morning in January bathed The Hippodrome. Under the clear blue sky, the ancient monuments groomed themselves for the important day. A warm breeze blowing across the Bosphorus dried the night dew accumulated on the domes and restored freshness to their aging surfaces.

A thin, young man clad in a long jacket and faded jeans, entered the square from the Divanyolu Street. Dark eyes, set on his bearded face, scanned the structures as he strolled towards the centre. When he arrived at the Egyptian Obelisk, he sat on a bench, facing the Blue Mosque. He took a newspaper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and continued to monitor the surroundings behind his shield.

The green lawns decorated with flower beds and the ancient structures conjured a quaint sense of tranquillity, calming his nerves. A sparrow landed by the bench and daintily skipped along, searching for crumbs.

****

The Blue Mosque spotted the red tourist buses arriving at their allocated parking area. Hey guys, it’s Tuesday, get ready for our new fans. Obelisks, German Fountain, museums and the palaces, shake off the slumber. Rise and shine.

Hagia Sophia winked at the Basilica Cistern entrance while the Topkapı Palace alerted its guards. The Archaeological Museum, along with Hagia Irine on the Palace grounds, prepared for their show.

The buses unloaded the passengers as groups circled their guides and dispersed in different directions over the historical grounds. A small party approached the German Fountain and took photos as they listened to the guide. The chit-chat of many languages, music to the ears of the ancient structures, filled The Hippodrome. Kings, Queens, Presidents, Heads of Religion, politicians, important businessmen and celebrities, as well as ordinary people, had been its guests over many centuries.

The Blue Mosque watched the dark man as he folded his paper and shifted in his seat. Something about his body seemed odd. His chest appeared too large for a man of such slender frame. Take off your jacket, my child. Too warm on such a glorious morning. Enjoy the sunshine.

The young man whispered a prayer towards the mosque, as he watched a group approaching the Obelisk. The strange figures etched on the tall marble structure intensified his passion. Heathens, non-believers, infidels. You and your idols should be erased from the surface of the world.

Hearing his thoughts, The Blue Mosque frowned and tried to bring reason to his wild ramblings. Son, the Obelisk before you is from Ancient Egypt, the other one, from Ancient Greece, the churches from the Byzantine times. The synagogues around the corner have endured since the Ottoman Empire. We represent all religions and beliefs here, and we get along fine. There is no need for hostility. We don’t only belong to this country, but to the entire world.

A spark of anger flashed in the young man’s eyes as the tourist group neared the Obelisk. His gaze on the Blue Mosque, he hissed, In the name of God.

What in the name of God? Destruction? What are you hiding inside that jacket? Don’t do this, my child. God will not forgive you. Taking your own life is a sin against God, but taking the lives of innocent others is a bigger sin. Don’t do it! Go back to your country, stop killing people of your own faith, as well as those of other beliefs. Stop the cruelty against your own people.

The young man rose and slowly approached the crowd by the Obelisk. Too late now, I am a soldier of God. I will go to Heaven and find peace.

You will not go to Heaven. You will go to Hell and burn. Don’t pull that thing, just leave. In the name of God.

He stopped by the group and noticed the sun retreat behind a cloud. A last glance at the Blue Mosque and he pushed the trigger.

A roaring blast rocked The Hippodrome and a great ball of fire rose by the Obelisk. The explosion reverberated through the city. As coffee cups rattled on tables, and windows shook with the shock,  a large pit burrowed through the surface of the square. The Obelisk remained intact, but woeful remains of human bodies were scattered around it.

After a brief moment of silence as the fumes dispersed, the mayhem of police and ambulance sirens deafened the ears. Blood and tears permeated the air as people in shock gathered around the square.

***

Dusk fell upon the ancient monuments. Now separated from the old town, behind a barricade of tape. An eerie stillness lingered as the men in forensic suits returned to their cars. A team of special forces policemen, in tactical gear, guarded the area.

Despite the golden lights illuminating their splendour, the aged structures could not hide their sorrow. They retreated into the night, looking for dark shadows to shed their tears.

A song of lament rose from Hagia Irine, and floated down on the evening breeze towards The Hippodrome and Hagia Sophia, and descended below the Basilica Cistern. It travelled through its chambers and passed underneath the Golden Horn, reaching Galata. Echoing on the walls of the synagogues, and landing in the heart of the city, it crossed the Bosphorus and arrived at the Asian side. Along the channel into the Black Sea, in the north, and to the Sea of Marmara, in the south.

At the old Galata Lodge, the dervishes whirled, the swish of their skirts in rhythm with the holy melody coming from the reed pipe. The sound followed the night and reached The Hippodrome to console the mourners and to bring peace to the souls of the departed