This is the big one On-lookers. I have pasted my new epilogue with the conclusion to the chapters I have posted over the last year. I hope that this is the finale that you have been waiting for. Because of this posting of the two epilogues together this chapter is a little big ...Xern apologizes, if there are any repetitions I apologize. Have fun!
The haws along Sheepsdrift hill are born on the end of thorny branches. It is so with all promised fruit. The baron season returns. A confusion of life remains thankfully silent and still. Outside a purple heron above mere mortals’ gaze returns home. It glides above our sorrow and our glee. Across a clear scarlet sky the bird follows paths beyond us.
The Foreigner and Alpha discuss time, “Even the description ‘old’ is a subjective one. Xern is younger than I am and the same age as you. To the abuser that, was old.” Alpha winks at Jonny.
“I seem to remember that Arwel could only make progress when he undermined those that he considered had injured him. I am sure that ‘old’ was intended as an insult. I aspire to wisdom; something earned with age. Whoever he was he will never know wisdom now.” Jonny sighs.
The Foreigner and Delta have agreed to preserve the library books. Victim will utilize his experience of Miss Liszt’s library. Together with others at Home Farm they will repair and replace the damaged books. The University will fund this work in return for the use of the library. Victim will organize and oversee the lending and returning of books.
Yew can follow in his father’s footsteps organizing the supply of books for the library. These remaining pilgrims will combine the two libraries here at Home Farm. First they will chair the debate concerning the bibbles messages and the Plateau curriculum.
“Do you intend to return with Xern?” Alpha asks Yew as he enters the room. “Victim is staying here,” he volunteers to the boy.
I intercede quickly, “Yew you are my friend, as your father was. Your cottage awaits your return, as does Trouble.” I notice Yew’s wandering eyes.
Angels fly solo and cry alone, On-looker.
The grey rain disappears. The pendulum clock above the mantelpiece stops. Everyone in the living room is frozen in time. The world is silent. There is only me. I walk to the window to confirm my existence. The sky lights up and then assumes night’s presence. The starry sky spins around us beyond the horizon. Feeling giddy I grasp the window sill. The ground violently shakes.
Sheet lightening spreads across the sky. The brilliant red sky flashes fluorescent yellow. To what I can only describe as the sound of Hell’s grinding an enormous white fork of lightening splits the silence and hits the old oak tree on the down. It turns black and when everything around it turns black the tree bursts into flame.
Are you still here On-lookers? My hands are dripping with black slime.
Time returns with the grey rain. Nothing appears to have changed.
The maxims and Victim left for the Mowdis earlier this morning with saws, shovels, paving slabs and a specially engineered a broad wheeled bi-axelled cart of discarded branches. Now we prepare to cross the Mowdis. Only Jonny knows what we are about to find.
We are all shocked when we get to the bank of the river. The stone steps chipped into the face of the Selfordan chasm have all crumbled. The oceanic tide now laps Megarian’s island each rotar. All the ebb has left behind is mud. Rho has platted branches across both the river bed mush and rotting fish to reach those left frightened and stranded.
The sky turns black. Thunder begins to rumble a loud base grate.
“Hallelujah Throb, for life at the start, now and forever after.” Yew squeaks to our Sacred Saviour. The Rector crosses himself.
Supreme white light instantly appears and blinds all. It beams at the static professors. Everyone is terrified. The silence is penetrated by a calm, powerful voice echoing through everything that has been halted. All things tremble as words of truth reach Life itself.
‘Our might is greater than your freedom. Our will surrounds you. You are arrogant and stupid. Such evil you dream of acquiring is misunderstood. Your regard is introspective. You are as pitiful as you are damned. You do not know who or what I am. Yet you would destroy Me. I continue omnipresent and eternal.’
Roles of lightening flare across the sky with claps of thunder. The crack across the Mowdis is hi-lighted with mass neon red light. The consumptive mud stretches as the ground drags further apart. The second chasm that reaches the pits of the earth grates violently. The soaring plasma that pierces the sky submerges. From the dark depths comes more brilliant white light. The air fills with a big chorus of harmonious voices singing of the glory of Jehovah.
‘I tell you; you will listen well.’ The almighty voice encompasses those of the chorus which quietens. The Throb radiates truth to us On-lookers.
‘I am your Creator, know Me well. We are neither positive nor negative. I am truth. I decide what is right and what is wrong. I know everything from history and beyond your futures. You will be judged.’
A violent role of thunder rumbles from one horizon across the sky to the next horizon. A clap of lightening strikes the split Chasm. The Chorus vanishes and time returns to empower life, which remains frozen with shock.
The Sacred voice vibrates, ‘Those with nothing have most and those with most have nothing. You arrogantly demand authority over those who warrant what you take. You disregard your own kind. We love you as any creator loves his creation. You anger us when you threaten to destroy My work. Not just yourselves, but everything I have given you. You have been told that is wrong.’
The Chasm starts to fill with sparkling blue and white lights,
‘The righteousness you gratify your evil existence with belongs to those you deny essentials. You define need as yours. Others need you dismiss as unnecessary want. I created all of you to fulfil your potentials. I answer all prayers from those who ask. I give all what they need. In answer to your own damnation I offer you My salvation. You are told.’
As the crevice beneath the Chasm fills with twinkling stars Victim is surrounded by warm blue light. Victim turns and smiles at Yew. This unnerves Yew more than it does Victim. Victim is drawn up into the sky. Yew is horrified as Victim lets go of his hands and reveals bloody scars through his palms.
‘I am neither male nor female. I am JEHOVAH, or YAHWEH, or ALLAH, or BRAHMA. We are one. I am Victim, Jesus, or Mohamed. They are not me I am them.’
Yew is upset. He has to steady himself as the ground moves abruptly towards the Selfordan cliff. Yew grabs the Foreigner who supports him with his arm. The twinkling blue lights rise into the sky with Victim. Yew is astonished as Victim vanishes behind the distant blue sky.
‘I am your very existence. You would never have drawn breath without My blessing. Those who choose to hear nothing will have never existed. You have driven Me to intervene. You have been warned do as you would be done by.’
There is a smaller clap of thunder and the sparkling lights in the chasm have all disappeared. The crevice in the bed of the dry Mowdis is joined and solid again. The river remains dry. The silence and stillness that remains is of our making. The Throb has departed.
“Angels?” Yew wonders aloud.
I shrug, “Who knows!”
“We are the almighty Throb of life,” rumbles away.
On-lookers, do you still remain? Two whiles later and shaken to my very existence I reproach the Professors. The University are trying to firm the river bed with Arctic hydrolytically set cement. The Mowdis mud consumes them as they try. They notice us from the other side of the dead Mowdis. A delegation struggles to cross the deep mud. Delta and Gamma throw bracken and branches on the ground before these impertinent minions. The struggling professors don’t appreciate the efforts spent on their behalf.
Eventually they reach us. I will do nothing for these arrogant secularists approaching unless I can be certain of one thing.
“Where is Hollid?”
“Hollid left; absent for over a term. The university needs you at the Plateau Xern,” the University Professors plead.
“The University needs and wants you to take charge. They need organizing Xern,” Jonny’s eyes plead with me.
“You recognized no need when I was ‘voted’ out of the University. I was not present and never shown the argument let alone invited to answer any objection to my presence on the committee. Stop deluding yourselves; the inane behaviour of you idiots was criminal.” I stare these offensive lecturers in the eyes, “I will only return if your attitude alters and my changes are implemented immediately.”
“We agree to discuss any alterations that you propose,” the professors reply.
“If you do not agree to my terms I refuse to return. I will go somewhere where I will be appreciated; Sharbourn. We have formed a committee. Before you can start working on this estuary bed. Delta plans to coat the floor of mud with discarded branches with Rho’s help. We may need to damn the area in which case you need not only me, but the maxims help. We need a staggered and structural approach. A ‘please’ and a ‘sorry’ in your case is needed.”
Eventually the creation of new laws are agreed. Gamma will chair an all encompassing enquiry concerning the last sixteen revolutions of chaos up at the Plateau. Zeta and he will construct new laws with Serena and the Enforcers help. These laws will start with a do as you would be done by theme and appropriate punishments. The categorical imperative will be that life is sacred. If this conflicts with a punishment then the offensive item or persons will be impaired or removed. Whether young, old or sick, male or female you will be valued as a member of the community.
We aim to remove sustificuts of power. Persons will keep what they already have. To motivate persons to work acclaimed purpose and satisfaction will be their fundamental drives. Basic essentials will be given freely to anyone proving their existence and needs. To acquire those things desired skills or possessions will have to be exchanged. Film actresses and footballers work for their art or not at all.
I will offer access to the library for all persons. The Foreigner will take charge of those students arriving from Selford to board at Home Farm.
A revolution later the Mowdis flows well from the Quelibra Mountains out to sea. Life returns more slowly, but it does return. Megarian returns as the Ferryman refusing other work offered to him from either side of the Mowdis. The government later reinstated religion. Father Jon refuses a post as the professor of philosophy up at the Plateau. He returns as the vicar of Sheepsdrift. We never find Hollid or Scoundrel.
We cannot find Vanessa on our return either. Yew is consequently concerned. Her dismissal of him still causes him distress. Vanessa did not consider Yew, but now she has left him alone Yew could not stop thinking of her. Yew feels that he has lost any destiny he once owned. He cannot find paradigms to define any truth.
“My mother’s lack of respect was for me as well as for everyone else. Ignorance may well be bliss but I have no wish to be ignorant of myself. If I cannot identify myself with my mother how can I know who my father was? I am no longer proud to be no one’s lost son.” Yew presses his club into his chest as he remembers his father.
“Son,” Jonny reassures this young hero, “we all have understanding of life. It is simply that your understanding has changed; a sign of intelligence. Life continues regardless of changes.”
“Is that the end of the story?” Zeta had asked the committee in the kitchen at Home Farm.
Alpha chuckled back, “That is usually up to the On-lookers,” he calmly stated with certainty.
“On-lookers are spirits; ghosts who have lived before. What does it matter what they think when assessing the end of stories?” Zeta was confused.
“Some are some are not. All are observers; many are still very much alive. Those who are still alive may still be learning about real life. Some read books to consider the possibility of truth. If they consider the story has ended they close and put their books down.”
“…The story ends and they all lived happily ever after,” Gamma chuckled in harmony.
I sit at home On-lookers writing about my pictures that I recollect from the last five revolutions. On-lookers, life is as you would make it! Whose pictures form behind your eyes? Whose identities do you assume? What identity have you defined?
Our lives continue after a moment of travellers’ hesitation, regardless of others. We each continue certain and confident of our lives. Truth is the riddle and like life the only answers we will realize are those we create for ourselves. Will you ask those who do not exist for help On-looker?
Have you foretold this future On-looker and have you been here before? Perhaps your Thurch does not allow such occult activities? Did you go to a University that ridiculed fortune telling? As you hide your crystal ball was it your destiny or ours that you could see? Have you seen history repeat itself? Is this only nonsense echoing backwards through On-lookers spent pasts?
On-lookers, has this story ended and do you now close the book and put it down? This story is one of millions told and even more like Scoundrel’s forgotten. We each consider our story more significant than any other. It is so.
A few may dismiss the lives of others, none as significant as their own. Regardless the intelligent will take account of the other millions of significant lives fighting for their rite to survive. In the pit of your soul you will consider that you warrant more than anyone else. You do not.
On-looker ignorance is bliss and which of us can claim to be completely unaware of the others fighting for survival? Remember the riddle of life continues for all of us, who question and thirst continually to live with consideration and concern.
Any pain is pain and hinders any individual’s progress through life. Any achievement is insurmountable by any other regardless of their irrelevant status. The Throng enables us to survive life. You cannot legislate against that. It is up to each and everyone of us whether others have to survive us. That is truth.
On-lookers do you now hold pictures behind your eyes? Some On-lookers may not and none of the pictures we each hold will be the same. Formed and coloured each by our own unique experiences. Some read books to view pictures of others’ experiences. Persons’ lives are as complex as those we possess On-lookers.
The greatest crime we can commit is to disregard others. We hope to be remembered when we are no longer measured by time. If you do not feature in others’ histories they will not recall you. The stories of tyrants and bullies are not bad examples. No one will remember such vacuous tales.
Time has been here before. Now wandering alone Time will return.
On-looker is this book what you leave behind as you move on?