The Messenger

To say, “It was a dark and stormy night,” like how so many stories had begun, would be considered an understatement. This particular night was truly a testament of nature’s wrath. . .and beauty. The inked sky was full of irregular crackling javelins of light that blazed across the darkened heavens. In its wake was an absolute drenching rain that could soak down to the marrow of man. The winds—rabid and vicious—roared and clawed at all that would dare stand in its path. Thunder bellowed its horn of war, resonating as it rolled throughout the mortal world. This. . .this was truly the storm of the century.
In my ignorance, I shrugged it off as a typical phenomenon. I walked away from the large picture window, to retire to the rosewood leather chair by the fireplace (having been satisfied with my gaze out into the bewildering twilight). I lit the cigar I had retrieved earlier, happenstance upon the weather’s dastardly interruption. I crossed my legs, the silk pajamas lightly ruffled in the elegance and comfort. Here. . .I sat alone in the dim study. The flicker of the flames bathed the room in a soft orange intravenously with a yellow contrast. The crimson walls were now richer in their hue, as the flames’ light made the shadows dance upon the walls. Warmth radiated from the resurging power of the fire in the study. I observed the flames that danced the most tribal of nature, whilst others feasted upon the wood’s carcass. The room flooded with the constant contest of fire and wind, it all overwhelmed my ears.
As I fixated further upon the flames, I could hear the howls of the wind and the roar of the fire become as fluent as any spoken word. Where then the flames soon took on a form: a face, a slender, and curvaceous body slowly. Here. . .before me now was there ever such beauty and grace! I remained seated, paralyzed. . .speechless. Whether it was fear or curiosity that struck my fancy, the enchantress with an elegant face flickered, as it withheld its splendor.
A soft enticing whisper echoed in my mind beckoning me nearer. “Servant of life and of flesh, heed the call, war is upon the world! The end of days is to come to pass!”
The pure marbled yellow-orange-white glossed with intent—such fixated—she stared deep within mine eyes, like a lioness’s gaze upon her prey. My eyes swelled with disbelief; I was dumbstruck. I turned my gaze away, having become lost in thoughts that raced, where I was led into the depths of my mind—I scrambled. . .and sought the doors for answers, all of which were empty.
I turned to face the fatal attraction. I knelt close to the siren, and she revealed visions that flooded my mind of what would soon come to pass. The whisper. . .now disembodied. . .echoed once more.
“Man’s life is to come to an end. True retribution is at hand. The time. . .is nigh. It is the time that all mortals fear of—the end. However, all is not lost. . .for the world will be reborn. The impurities shall be cleansed by fire. The scarring that evil has left upon the face of the world, will be purified. The pure shall be soothed and reconciled, from which they shed from. The judgment on high has been passed. The cogs of the new future have begun to turn. To advise the ushering of the forthcoming age: selection, devotion, and truth. . .must endure. For on the first day—fire—purges the impure. Upon the second day, lightning will clash, tempering, and reshaping. On the third, the wind—strengthens and seals. On the final day, water shall cleanse and further purify. A new day will then emerge, marking the era of a true beginning. It is on this day. The chosen are relinquished of slumber and returned. Where then upon the next, those that committed such aggravated acts against the name of life will sprout and also begin anew.”
These events were told. . .bold and true. The wind rung soft and pure in my ears. As I stood erect before the unknown enchanting messenger, enthralled, blinded, I nodded in acknowledgment of my task. Slowly the life giving inferno soothes its rage, and dies. The once sultry temptress now turned to ash before me. The soft glowing embers wriggle, writhe, and squirm, before erupting wildly into a hint of a new spark of life.
A smile crossed my face, while a tear is shed. I retired to my chair to finish my cigar, while the blaze around me consumes the world, and I. I am soon greeted and embraced by a long lost love. My eyes close as I am relinquished of all wrong.
Lightning continues to play its concerto, while fire and wind elegantly waltz, and the rain riddled the somber ash with its pure tears—the embers laying dormant.
The end had come. . .just as it was foretold. . .by the tempest temptress messenger.

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