Weekly Writing Challenge : In the Beginning – “Genesis of Compassion”

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“What manner of nonsense do you speak?! Are you telling me to do what I think you have just told me to do?!”

“Orders are orders. We can’t deny His will,”

“This is the enemy! It shall not be spared!”

“But it is only a child…”

She looked at the creature with a look of disgust. The creature looked back at her with pitch black eyes. But for all that was filthy to her about this little creature, those tiny black eyes seem to only radiate innocence and curiosity. But that didn’t make her withdraw her blade, its tip inches from the creature’s face.

She felt a gentle hand touch her sword hand. She didn’t avert her eyes from her target but she knew whose it was, the very being that was telling her not to go with her plan of taking that life.

“Please…Eshaia…don’t do this. Do not go against His order,”

Eshaia stared at the creature hard, her iron grip on her weapon not loosening. The fire within her burned bright. Her vengeance and will was beckoning her to do what she made to do, what she was created to do. It was so close, so easy. Just a simple thrust and her duty was done.

But she couldn’t go against His will.

The conflict of His will and the calling within her inner being made her fill up with insanity. The contradiction was overwhelming. It took every strand of her own will to stay her hand.

The hand touching her sword hand was now starting to radiate warmth. It was soothing. It was as though gentle streams were rushing up her arm and entering her heart, slowing dousing the flame within. Finally and very reluctantly she loosened her grip, withdrew her weapon and sheathed it.

She didn’t look at him, but she knew Rachumiel was smiling gently. She let out a huff.

“So be it. As it is His will. But know that the moment that creature so much as causes a taint in our holy land, I will not hesitate to drive my blade through it.”

“Awww, how can such a thing do any harm?”

Eshaia groaned. There he goes again, reverting to his true self. All cheery and happy at all things tiny and adorable.

Rachumiel carried the little creature up. With its whole naked body covered in short black fur, pointed ears, tiny fangs, eyes of darkness, a pair of leather wings on its back and a pointed tail swinging around; it was pretty easy to identify that it was a demon child.

The little one stared at Rachumiel with its dark eyes and then started to laugh as he tickled its wings.

“Who’s a cute little thing? Who is? Who is? Oh no! It’s not you is it? It’s not you! It is you! You little cutie!”

Eshaia felt sick. The little demon’s laughter was so disturbing as it sounded just like the laughter of the young of her kind. It was so creepy knowing that that thing was so similar to her kin.

“Do you want to carry it?” Rachumiel asked.

“Do you want to carry my blade between your eyes? Don’t test me!” Eshaia hissed.

Rachumiel huffed but a grin started to form. Eshaia turned and started to walk away, unable to bear the scene before her.

“I have my eyes on it,” she warned.

“But of course Eshaia, but of course,” Rachumiel replied slyly.

Angels knew when to move out of the way of a Seraph that was angry. Her path was made clear for miles. She didn’t bother looking but she knew eyes were on her. The angels who were hiding and watching her could sense her fury, her anger.

Eshaia entered the Meadow of Contemplation and sat next to the Lake of Thought. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

She always loved this place. It was calming to her. And she needed that calm, for all the thoughts that were swirling in her head.

Why? Why did He ask her to spare its life? It was a spawn of the enemy.
How could He do that to her? She was a Protector Class Seraph. Her duty was to protect the gates leading to the Kingdom.
He made her with essence of fire burning within. He should know how much pain it was to obey His will and yet go against every calling of her fibre that He had made her to be.

She recalled that moment that had led to this odd turn of events.

Occasionally, minions of the Fallen One tried to attack the Kingdom. That earlier battle was an easy one since it was only a Scout party doing a recon of the outer perimeter of the Kingdom.

But why did those Scouts bring this one demon child with them? What manner of devilish scheme were they up to? Were they thinking of inserting that child into the Kingdom to be a spy? To let it grow in some hidden part of the Kingdom and later become the entry point of infiltration?

Why? Did they think that her kind would be merciful to it if it was an infant? Perish the thought! She was a Protector! She was made to execute the tainted ones with extreme prejudice, be it infant or adult. She did not discriminate between age. An enemy is an enemy.

But why? Why did He want her to spare its life? Why now?

It was so close, so very close to have done her duty. It was not a moment too soon that He had sent Rachumiel to that infant’s rescue. A second too late and that infant would have been sent to the Eternal Vortex.

“Rachumiel…” she muttered, now reminded of him.

Typical Angel of Compassion. Rachumiel was a veteran among the ranks of his kind. A good tradesman of lives, he’s dealt with the Sisters of Fate and Samael himself, often times getting a good bargain. He was a sweet talker, judging by his ravenous taste for cotton cloud candy. And also a very huge sucker for little tiny infant beings.

As her thoughts swam around in her mind, fatigue slowly overtook her. Her world started to grow muffled as the ambient sounds started to fade away. Sleep started to wrap its gentle airy arms around her head.

Sounds…sounds…disappearing…disappear…wait…what is that sound?

That tiny skittering sound in the distant…it started to get louder. And then a muffled laughter…a muffled infant’s laughter…that seemed to grow louder…

And suddenly she felt uneasy…that same unease she always felt…when her senses started to tingle…her inbuilt senses that was given to her in her creation…the senses that told her when there was danger nearby…

Demonic danger…

And then she felt it…on the top of her head.

Her eyes shot open and she saw a tiny leather wing dangling in her sights. And then came a pointed tail swinging around.

“EEEEKKKK!!!!”

She jumped to her feet, causing the little demon to fall and land smack on the ground. It immediately started to cry.

“WHAT IS THAT DOING HERE?! ON MY HEAD?!?!” she screamed.

Rachumiel quickly went to pick up the infant and sooth it, casting healing magic to heal its injuries. The infant wailed in pain but slowly, the wailing started to soften.

Eshaia stared at him with a look of insanity and rage.

“WHAT WAS THAT THING DOING ON MY HEAD?!” she screamed again.

She rubbed her hair furiously as if to get rid of a disgusting insect that had landed on it. She felt dirty and filthy, violated.

Rachumiel on the other hand was oblivious to her plight as he was too busy lulling the infant to sleep. He then looked at her with an annoyed look.

“Geez Eshaia. You’d think that you could have handled that well. I just placed it on your head cause it looked so cute. It just wanted to play that’s all,” he said nonchalantly.

“I will kill you if you do that again! You keep that…that thing away from me!” she warned dangerously.

“Calm down! Chill out! Sheez! It’s just a child! It won’t hurt you! Look at it!”

He turned to show her the sleeping infant and she immediately placed her hand on the handle of her sword.

STAY YOUR BLADE ESHAIA. SIT DOWN.

The voice in their heads caused them to jump. They could only look up, at the glowing ball of light far above.

“My Lord…” Eshaia said quietly.

SIT DOWN.

“Yes My Lord…”

Eshaia complied and did as she was told. Rachumiel continued to look at the ball. The Lord always did have a way of being very persuasive.

RACHUMIEL.

“Yes My Lord?”

YOU ARE NEEDED IN THE DESERT. THERE SEEMS TO BE A FAMINE GOING ON. SAMAEL IS ALREADY SHARPENING HIS TOOL. GO DOWN AND SAVE THE MORTALS WHO HAVE GOOD CREDIT.

“Yes My Lord. And the infant?”

LEAVE IT HERE. ESHAIA WILL TAKE CARE OF IT.

“WHAT?!” she screamed.

Rachumiel placed the little infant on a patch of grass before Eshaia. He then spread his wings and flew off in the direction of where he was supposed to go.

Eshaia stared in horror at the sleeping bundle before her. The infant moved a little but was otherwise in peaceful slumber.

ESHAIA, I WANT YOU TO PICK THE INFANT UP.

“My Lord! Please! I can’t! I cannot!”

PICK IT UP.

Eshaia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Very reluctantly and most gingerly, she crawled to it. She was trembling with every step she made.

The nearer she got, the more every fiber of her being screamed :
“Don’t do it! It’s dangerous! Chew your own arms off before you can touch it!”

But His will was compelling. She could feel His gaze on her, burning a hole at the back of her head. She feared the infant, but feared Him even more.

Finally she was on all fours before the sleeping child. Slowly she reached out her trembling hand. She put a single finger on it and quickly pulled her hand back as though it were gonna wake up and chew her digit off. It remained sound asleep.

COME ON. YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT.

“I can’t My Lord…I’m terrified…”

RACHUMIEL SURE IS A LOT BRAVER THAN YOU.

That made her snap. Oh hell no. He didn’t just say that.

A burst of flame erupted within her. Angrily but still trembling, she reached out and carried the infant. It woke up, causing all her hairs to stand on end.

She lifted it up, keeping it at arm’s length. It yawned and looked at her with its dark eyes, curiosity written all over its face.

SEE? THAT WASN’T SO BAD NOW WAS IT?

Her teeth were so clenched that she swore they were starting to crack even though they were made to last an eternity.

“Oh you have no idea My Lord…” she said between clenched teeth.

HOLD IT CLOSE.

She stared at the ball of light. Was He crazy?!

HOLD IT CLOSE.

She took a deep breath, so deep she could have sucked up all the water from the Lake of Thought. And slowly she put the child close to her in as gentle an embrace as she could, fighting the screaming urge to crush it in a death embrace. The infant looked at her before nuzzling itself against her chest.

She was breathing frantically now, feeling so dirty inside. The infant slowed its movements and soon, it started to breath the sound of slumber.

Something weird started to happen. She looked at the infant and the more she looked, the more her breathing started to slowly ease. She couldn’t understand this feeling that was starting to emanate from this child. It wasn’t malice nor evil. It was a comfortable feeling. She felt…at ease…as she continued looking at it.

SEE?

IT IS JUST AN INNOCENT CHILD. REGARDLESS OF WHERE OR WHAT IT IS, LOOK PAST YOUR PREJUDICES.

“I’m sorry My Lord. I can’t help it. It is a demon child. And I am a Protector Class Seraph. I was made to slay any demon that comes near our Kingdom. You made me that way. The mark is on my backside as proof,” she replied sarcastically.

She could hear His chuckle. That was very rare. The last time she heard Him chuckle was when He was amused at how Amoebas wobbled in water.

NO MATTER WHERE AND WHAT THE ORIGIN, A CHILD IS AN INNOCENT BEING, FREE FROM TAINT. I WILL TEACH YOU SOMETHING NEW TODAY, SOMETHING BEYOND WHAT YOU WERE MADE TO DO.

PUT IT DOWN ON THE GROUND.

She did as she was told.

NOW GENTLY WAKE IT UP.

She complied. The child opened its eyes groggily before looking at her in curiosity.

NOW DANCE.

She looked at up.

“You’re joking right?”

NO. SERIOUSLY. DANCE.

She was silent, riddled with immense internal conflict. She then spoke.

“My Lord. Please do me a favour. This does not leave the Meadow. Nobody must know of this.”

NOBODY WILL.

Eshaia started to wave her arms awkwardly. Arms made to swing weapons to behead demons were not suited for grace and show.

But something happened. The demon child stared at her, and soon after, it started to imitate her. She observed this occurrence. She made a different arm movement, and the child tried to follow suit.

She did more combinations, prompting the little one to follow her. She then did one that was pretty wild. The child followed but it was too much, causing it to topple to its side.

She didn’t know why but she started to giggle. She realised what she did and stopped, her eyes wide open.

“What did I just do?”

YOU GIGGLED.

“I was happy? How is that possible? I thought the only emotions I knew were anger, fury and seriousness,”

WELL SURPRISE YOU DIDN’T I?

“Indeed…I just discovered something new about myself today,”

YES INDEED. TODAY IS A SPECIAL DAY FOR YOU. OBSERVE THE CHILD. NOTICE HOW IT IS MIMICKING YOU. A CHILD IS INNOCENT. INNOCENCE IS A STATE OF BEING A BLANK SLATE.

NO CHILD HAS SIN. IT IS THAT WHICH IT FOLLOWS THAT TEACHES IT SIN. ITS GUIDE, PARENT, TEACHER, MENTOR IS THE ONE THAT WILL PAINT THAT SLATE WITH PICTURES – BE IT BEAUTIFUL OR UGLY.

Eshaia nodded in silence.

NOTICE HOW YOU GIGGLED AT ITS ACTIONS? THAT IS THE BEAUTY OF A CHILD. ITS INNOCENCE REAWAKENED SOMETHING WITHIN YOU.

A CHILD HAS THE POWER TO CHANGE A BEING, TO ALTER ITS REALITY. WHEN A BEING IS NOT WITH A CHILD, ALL IT THINKS ABOUT IS ITSELF. ITS WORLD JUST COMPRISES OF ITS EXISTANCE. BUT WHEN A NEW BORN IS BROUGHT INTO ITS WORLD, ITS WORLD CHANGES.

THE CHILD NOW BECOMES ITS WORLD. ITS ATTENTION IS DIVERTED. THE BEING IS SUDDENLY LIVING IN A WORLD THAT IS BEYOND ITSELF. IT HAS A NEW PURPOSE IN ITS LIFE, A NEW DIRECTION TO CHANNEL ITS ENERGY.

CHILDREN ARE SPECIAL THAT WAY. I MADE THEM THAT WAY. THEY REDEFINE ONE’S EXISTANCE. A CHILD HAS THE ABILITY TO CHANGE A BEING’S LIFE.

She looked at the demon child who was looking back at her again with an eager look. She did a simple hand wave and it followed her once again. She didn’t know why but she suddenly felt compelled to smile. The demon child saw that and smiled in return, its eyes seemed to sparkle. It then started to crawl towards her.

It was strange. Normally she would have had her weapon out in one swift motion, beheading the little one. But this time she didn’t feel that fire in her. Instead, she felt drawn to the little one.

The infant stopped at her feet and lifted its arms. It started to call out to her.

“What does it want My Lord?”

IT WANTS YOU TO CARRY IT.

And she did just that, this time cradling it in her arms. She didn’t know why she naturally held it that way. Something just felt right about it.

“It’s strange My Lord. I feel different somehow. I don’t feel any anger and fury for this little one anymore. Instead…I feel…I feel…close to it,”

There was silence. She looked up at the ball, wondering what He was thinking. She felt a movement on her chest and she looked back down. The demon child had snuggled against her bosom and was slowly falling asleep.

For some reason unknown, an inner voice spoke to her. It guided her actions and thoughts. She automatically held the child closer to her gently, slowly swaying her body from side to side to lull it to sleep.

“It’s now asleep My Lord,”

YES ESHAIA. IT FEELS SAFE IN YOUR ARMS. WELL DONE.

“I don’t know why but I don’t feel hatred for it anymore. I feel…I feel…”

LOVE. IT’S LOVE. AND COMPASSION.

That word sent a wave of realisation down her spine.

But how could it be? She and this child were of two different makes. They were enemies, destined to kill one another. Sure this was an infant, but to feel love for it was strange.

DO NOT BE SURPRISED NOR ALARMED AT WHAT YOU ARE FEELING. IT’S NATURAL. I CREATED FEMALES, WHETHER MORTAL OR DIVINE TO HAVE AN INNATE INSTINCT TO CARE FOR A YOUNG ONE. IT’S CALLED A MOTHERLY INSTINCT.

ALTHOUGH, MORTAL FEMALES ANSWER TO THIS CALL STRONGER THAN DIVINE ONES. A LITTLE CHANGE IN THE DESIGN ON MY PART. FOR SPECIFIC REASONS AS WELL.

Mother…

Eshaia couldn’t truly understand nor relate. She knew what a mother was. But she could never ever connect to the concept of mother and child. It was because she was made from nothing. She was a piece of matter with a consciousness placed into it. The day she awoke from an eternal slumber of nothingness to existance was the day she opened her eyes as Eshaia, a child angel created in the Kingdom.

She was never born persay. Never carried within the womb of another being, or within an egg for a period of time before coming into the world.

She was just…there…
Like a switch. Off. On.
It was bizarre and weird now that she started to think about it.

I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. WORRY NOT ABOUT HOW YOU CAME TO BE. FOR NOW, THINK ABOUT THIS LIFE IN YOUR ARMS.

“My Lord, You knew it would come to this didn’t You?”

YES.

“Why me? What is Your plan My Lord?”

DO NOT WORRY ABOUT MY PLAN. HAVE FAITH. THERE WILL BE A MISSION FOR YOU SOON.

“What is it My Lord?”

FIRST THINGS FIRST. I WANT YOU TO TAKE CARE OF THIS CHILD.

“But My Lord! I am a Protector Class Seraph. I only know combat and how to slay our enemies! I do not know about love and care and tending to a young one. That is a task suited for one such as Rachumiel.”

YOU WILL DO FINE. YOU HAVE ALREADY AWOKEN THE INNATE MOTHERLY INSTINCT IN YOU. YOU HAVE UNLOCKED YOUR FIRST ACHIEVEMENT!

She looked at Him weirdly. Sometimes He spoke in a manner that was weird…almost human…

BELIEVE IN YOURSELF ESHAIA. AS I HAVE BELIEVED IN YOU.

Eshaia looked at the sleeping child.

And so, her journey began. She spent time tending to the child, caring for it. She realised that though it was a daunting task, the drive within her to see to the needs of the little one was strong.

Of course being a divine warrior, she didn’t possess a gentle hand naturally. Many times did she fumble.

But she had help from the Lord and Rachumiel. They were always there, taking it in turns to assist her with their advice. When Rachumiel was around he shared his knowledge on compassion. And when he was gone on missions the Lord would take over.

It was also during Rachumiel’s absence that she would allow herself to dance to entertain the infant. There was something beautiful about that laughter and smile.

Aside from tending and caring, she also began to teach the child. She began to cultivate angelic virtues in it that was appropriate for its age and state of mind.

Regardless of whether Rachumiel was helping her or not, the Lord was always watching her; provided He wasn’t busy spending His time doing other divine things, like humming to Himself and counting sand from any one of the deserts He created in contemplation, figuring out what He could invent next to amaze His mortal creations.

She realised that everything she did was meant to make the child be safe and happy. And in return there were intimate moments shared between her and the child. When left alone the child would start to cry and would only stop when in her embrace. It was as though the child needed her and only her. She felt that there was a strong calling, a purpose to her creation, like there was a reason for her to continue existing and doing what she did.

She realised that a bond between her and the child had been created. Perhaps…perhaps this was what it was like to be in a mother and child relationship.

As time passed, it slowly dawned on her. She looked up. She knew that He knew she was looking at Him, but He just kept silent. She was almost certain He was smiling at her for the realisation that she was getting.

“I think I’m beginning to understand you a little more My Lord. You and Your relationship to all Your creations…” she said softly.

I’M GLAD YOU ARE BEGINNING TO DO SO.

“Well little one. It’s time for bed,” she said.

She placed the infant in a cot that she had fashioned out of various leaves and furs.

She watched as the little one slept soundly and soon, was lost in her thoughts.

How she had changed over the course of time tending to this one. How she could only think of caring for this one. How she felt so protective over it. How she would do anything to make sure no harm came to it.

How did she, a Seraph, sworn enemy and slayer of demons, could care for a young one of their kind. Strange…

It was strange indeed. And horrifying when she woke up the next day and saw the sight that greeted her. It started out as silent shock, which later transformed to a scream of horror.

Rachumiel arrived as fast as he could in response to hearing Eshaia.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s the child! Something’s happened to it!” she replied frantically.

He went to see the little one held in her arms and got a shock as well. The child’s wings were frayed and wrinkled. They looked like dying leaves that were ready to drop off from the tree. The child though, showed no sign of pain as it looked at them curiously. It laughed at Rachumiel and lifted its arms, a sign that it wanted to be carried.

Rachumiel obliged.

“There there! Who’s a cute little demon? Who’s a cutie little demon? You are!”

As he said those words while carrying the child there were crackling sounds on the infant’s back. Then two snaps as its wings fell to the ground. They landed, started to shrivel and crackle more before crumbling to dust.

There was a very awkward silence as both angels stared at horror at the disintegrating wings. Then Rachumiel was shaking violently as Eshaia was wringing his neck.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ITS WINGS?!” she screamed.

“I DID NOTHING!!!” he replied, choking.

CALM DOWN ESHAIA.

Eshaia stopped at the voice, grabbed the child from Rachumiel and held it close trying to comfort it. But the child just continued to stare at her in confusion, no sign of any pain at all. Rachumiel was gasping for air.

“My Lord. You could have stepped in sooner and stopped her,” he said, colour returning to his face.

MY APOLOGIES. BUT I COULDN’T PASS UP A GOOD SHOW.

“Why thank you My Lord. I can see where the mortals get their sense of humour from,” Rachumiel groaned.

“My Lord! What has happened to this child? Please save it! Cure it!” Eshaia pleaded.

RELAX ESHAIA. EVERYTHING IS FINE. LOOK!

Both Rachumiel and Eshaia now averted their gaze to the child. Sure enough something was happening indeed.

From the stump where its wings used to be, feathers were starting to sprout out. More came out and soon both angels could see that they were attached to a wing bone structure that was now making its way out. When the whole process was done, they saw that where once were devil wings were now new angel wings instead.

Both angels were stumped. The demon child on the other hand, was totally oblivious to what had just happened.

“My Lord! It now has angel wings! But! But how?!” Eshaia asked.

BECAUSE YOU HAVE CONVERTED IT.

REMEMBER WHAT I HAVE MENTIONED? THAT A CHILD IS A BLANK SLATE. IT LEARNS FROM A TEACHER OR MENTOR OR…IN THIS CASE…A PARENT.

WHAT YOU TEACH IT IS WHAT IT WILL GROW UP TO BE. YOU TAUGHT IT VALUES ONLY ANGELS KNEW. AND THUS IT GREW INTO AN ANGEL.

THE FALLEN ONE WAS ONCE AN ANGEL. BUT AS AN ANGEL CAN TURN TO A FALLEN ONE, SO CAN A FALLEN ONE BE TURNED INTO AN ANGEL AGAIN.

 

CHILDREN THOUGH ARE MUCH EASIER TO INFLUENCE THAN AN ADULT. BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO SIN.

INNOCENCE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING. NOT BAD HANDIWORK EH?

“This…this is wonderful My Lord! This means we can convert the Fallen Ones to our side!” Rachumiel exclaimed.

IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING YES RACHUMIEL. BUT ADULT FALLEN ONES ARE VERY HARD TO CONVERT.

THE MIND THAT HAS STEEPED ITSELF FOR FAR TOO LONG IN NEGATIVITY AND EVIL IS HARD TO CHANGE. IT BECOMES BLINDED TO THE GOOD AND TRUTH.

IT’S NOT IMPOSSIBLE. BUT IT WILL BE A VERY TOUGH CHALLENGE WITH YOUR LIFE AT STAKE.

SADLY, OFTEN TIMES THE ONLY WAY TO QUELL THOSE IN THAT STATE IS BY THE SWORD.

Rachumiel slumped, feeling upset.

FRET NOT RACHUMIEL. NEVER GIVE UP. ALWAYS KEEP TRYING. YOUR COMPASSION IS A BEAUTIFUL GIFT I HAVE GIVEN TO YOU. IT CAN CHANGE THE WORLD.

BELIEVE ME, IN A TIME SOON TO COME IN THE LAND OF MORTALS, THERE WILL BE AN AGE WHERE MANY MEN ONLY THINK OF PEACE AND LOVE. THEY ADORN THEMSELVES WITH FLOWERS IN A TIME OF WAR IN THEIR WORLD.

YOU WILL BE NEEDED THEN TO SOW THE SEEDS OF COMPASSION. ALL IN DUE TIME.

BUT FOR NOW…ESHAIA…

“Yes My Lord,”

She turned to look up, child in her arms. The demon child flapped its new wings curiously and started to play with it, laughing.

RACHUMIEL, BRING THE CHILD TO THE NURSERY.

“As you wish My Lord,” he said.

Eshaia passed the child to Rachumiel who took it from her and flew off. Eshaia looked at the vanishing angel in the distance before looking back at the ball in the sky.

ESHAIA. THE TIME HAS COME. I MENTIONED BEFORE THAT I HAD A NEW MISSION FOR YOU.

“Yes My Lord,”

A NEW AGE IS DAWNING UPON THE WORLD OF MORTAL MEN. THEY HAVE GONE ASTRAY AGAIN. APPARENTLY, A HUGE SHOWER TO WASH THEIR SINS DIDN’T WORK TOO WELL ENOUGH. SO I’M GOING TO USE A DIFFERENT APPROACH.

I WILL BE SENDING SOMEONE DOWN INSTEAD. A REPRESENTATIVE OF MINE TO GUIDE THEM. HE WILL ARRIVE IN THEIR MIDST IN THE FORM OF A MORTAL MAN JUST LIKE THEM. THIS WILL ALLOW HIM TO BETTER CONNECT TO THEM AND EASE HIS DUTY TO STEER THEM TOWARDS THE RIGHT PATH.

I HAVE TRAINED YOU FOR THIS MOMENT. I WANT YOU TO WATCH OVER HIM. YOU WILL BE HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL. YOU ARE A PROTECTOR CLASS SERAPH, SO DOING SO WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM.

BUT BECAUSE YOU HAVE DEALT WITH A CHILD IN A MANNER ONLY A MOTHER COULD, YOU WILL ALSO BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE PROBLEMS HE WILL FACE WITH COMPASSION. YOU HAVE LEARNT TO KNOW WHEN TO STAY YOUR BLADE AND USE IT INSTEAD OF VIOLENCE.

MOST PROBLEMS OF MORTAL MEN CAN BE SOLVED WITH COMPASSION. WORDS AND LOVE ALONE CAN QUELL ANGER IF USED WISELY. MORE OFTEN THAN NOT IT’S THE AGENTS OF FALLEN ONES WHO LULL THEM TO RESORT TO THE EXTREME OF VIOLENCE.

YOU HAVE STEPPED IN BOTH WORLDS – OF LOVE AND COMPASSION AND OF FORCE AND VIOLENCE. YOU WILL KNOW WHEN TO USE EITHER OF THEM WHEN NECESSARY.

“I understand now My Lord. Thank you for guiding me,”

ALSO. HE WILL HAVE A MORTAL MOTHER TO RAISE HIM. BUT YOU WILL CONTINUE TO GUIDE HIM BEHIND THE SCENES. USE WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY AT YOUR DISPOSAL.

TEACH HIM WHAT YOU HAVE LEARNT AS WELL AS THE VALUES I HAVE INSTILLED IN YOU WHEN I CREATED YOU.

TEACH HIM TO SERVE MEN, TO SERVE MY WILL.

TEACH HIM TO RESPECT HIS TEACHERS, HIS PARENTS AND THOSE AROUND HIM.

TEACH HIM ABOUT COMPASSION, ABOUT LOVE, ABOUT FORGIVENESS, ABOUT SACRIFICE.

The night was silent. The star shone brightly high in the sky. The three men were on time as they reached their destination.

Far in the distance out of sight stood a hooded figure, shrouded in shadow. She stood watching the scene unfold before her.

HE HAS ARRIVED.

“Yes My Lord. I will watch over him,”


Weekly Writing Challenge : In The Beginning

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Weekly Writing Challenge : Worlds Colliding – “The Whirlpool Within”

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Seeing this challenge, I had to agree with the statement by Ben Huberman that we do slip in and out of differing personas without even noticing. I couldn’t really think of nor remember a prominent moment when the switch-a-roo happened.

Instead I can only think of a ‘period’ or ‘timeframe’.
It’s a period that most of us are very familiar with.

The period when my persona changes a lot – when I’m chasing after someone whom I have a crush on / interest in.

I’ve noticed a rather obvious change in my persona during such a period; be it during active conversation to passive contemplation.

Take conversation for example.

Having conversations, be it in person or over text messaging, I change my manner of communicating. Sometimes I try to be funny, to put a smile on that person’s face and brighten her day (nothing beats happiness in someone and knowing you were the person who made their day). Other times I try to be matter-of-fact or serious. And there are times when it’s casual. Depending on the situation, my persona changes.

I had to shift between being an interested person trying to know more about the person I was after; to being highly casual and distant (this will be explained below).

I want to know so much about the person. I ask the important questions at as appropriate times as possible, some of which are rather hard because the anxiety of awaiting the answer kills more than the answer itself.

One very popular question is (in its many forms) :

“Are you seeing someone?” or
“Are you going out with someone?” or
“Are you dating / in a relationship?”

But while the querying is going on, I don’t want to get too carried away for fear of making her uncomfortable by over-bombarding her. This is where I put some distance. I try to make it feel casual. I slowly pace myself, bringing out the relevant questions when the timing is right.

When you’re trying to pursue someone you’re interested in, pacing is kind of the key (well to me anyways). Perhaps I’m not a highly skilled person in this little venture, but this is kind of how my personality works and how I go about it. To me it’s all about timing.

But what a whirlwind of personalities I go through. During a period such as this I transform from my normal contemplative self to a frantic bunny chewing on an electric-charged carrot. Quiet and thoughtful to fidgety and restless (inside of course, I try to keep as calm an exterior as possible).

Then there are those moments when I’m confronted with my mobile device or computer screen.

I await for the sounds of notification that a message has arrived on my device eagerly. So that I can continue to speak to that person, to keep the conversation going, to stay connected.

Once in a while I try not to send a message out, hoping deep down inside, that the person would message me instead, that she would make the first move and send the first “hi” of the day. To see if there’s a connection or at least, a start to one.

And then I come to a time when I get so restless as I stare at a silent mobile device. I start to think and wonder how is that person, what is that person doing. Am I in that person’s mind.

High school stuff I know. But I guess it still hits me even at my age (nearing the 30 mark as of this writing), no matter how jaded I might be with the world around me. When you find someone that revives you, that makes you feel alive again after sleeping in a corner of life covered in cobwebs, you feel reborn. That the world, in all its grey colour, has had some of its colour return.

I guess it’s true when they say that the most exciting part about finding someone is in the chase. You get that rush. But what a powerful crank / switch that person is to your gears. That person can perk you up, or make you feel rather empty. Make you feel anxious, or satisfied for the rest of the day. Make you wonder restlessly throughout the night, or sleep soundly with a smile till the next day. That is the power of someone who means a lot to you / you have a crush on / you start to notice with interest.

That adrenaline rush keeps the motors running. A kind of “purpose in your life” that serves as fuel. The jolt of fresh electrical current into the ol’ engine starter.

It acts as a catalyst for a very manic chemical reaction in the Petri dish that is your personality. It changes your mood across the spectrum; from happy, to restless, to agitated, to distant, to dazed, to anxious, and back to happy again – and it does not follow any particular order either.

Of course, saying all this I must add :
The effects of the chase; there are those who have it, there are those who don’t. Those who do have it experience it differently from person to person at varying degrees.

For me, I definitely have it.

A whirlpool within the waters of my soul.

Weekly Writing Challenge : Worlds Colliding

Weekly Writing Challenge : Student, Teacher – “Tribute of the Edge”

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When I saw this challenge, I had to take this opportunity to pay tribute to a man who has made a change in my life and well, in addition just share a few insights that I’ve learnt from him.

The man I speak of is my FMA (Filipino Martial Arts) instructor.

A little intro about FMA. FMA is a very broad term to describe the art, styles and systems that call Philipines its home and origin. Unlike most martial arts, FMA teaches its practitioners weapons first before advancing to empty hands. Its core concepts and philosophies, no matter which style, focuses and revolves around bladed combat. There are some styles that focus on empty hands like Panantukan, but its still based on bladed combat principals. The craft I’m practicing is a system, or more accurately, a combative system.

To put it briefly, a combative is any type of martial art that goes towards the direction of preparing its practitioner for actual fights and applications. It is used by the military, law enforcement and security officers. It tends to focus on efficient movements and tactics. And with anything to do with efficiency, it’s always a fun journey exploring and finding out why certain things are done the way they are.

Now back to my instructor. A teacher / instructor is someone who guides you. But not anyone can be a teacher. It takes a certain special kind of mind to teach. There’re a lot of core values that someone of this position requires.

Patience, creativity, tolerance, an eye for detail, an eye for inner potential…just to name a few.

And that is what I see in him. He has the attention to detail in regards to the craft he teaches. He has the creativity to make dull moments interesting, tedious lessons fun and painful moments less painful. But above everything else, he has an eye for inner potential and the patience to see it grow and nurture it.

In my life, there have been very very very very few people who have the traits that he has.

Paradoxically, for a combative that has hard hits and violence, he has a mind that’s thoughtful and an opposite to the rough physical nature of the system he teaches. His is a mind that is philosophical, the mind that questions and wonders. And above all, it contains principals that I believe we should abide by. I’m not saying he’s a God or something, that he’s all perfect and infallable. And of course he’s not the the only one who practices principals. But to see him make an effort to uphold and maintain principals is something that I’m seeing very rare of in most people this day and age.

He has taught me a way of life. To adhere to principals and uphold a code of honour, integrity and honesty. He has taught me loyalty and perseverence. I may have an innate perseverence in me, but he was the one who had the patience to allow it to pull me through and nurture the skills that I have with me today.

And there is no better honour than gaining his trust and letting him know that you as a student care for his interests.

There have been students who come and go. Some are just passers by, curious about the system. Some come in and leave within the span of less than 2 – 3 months. And it’s quite nasty doing that because one has wasted my instructor’s time and effort to bestow and share the knowledge. I think the one way we can do him justice is to stick around, take in his teachings and see it through till there’s a certain benchmark accomplishment.

In addition to that, there’s another thing about him that sets him above so many others.

He has no problem acknowledging things. If you have progressed as a student, he will acknowledge it and tell you so. He has no problem acknowledging your strengths, achievements and weaknesses (and he will mend that weakness and bring you up).

And above all that, he has my respect because he acknowledges and admits when he himself has made a mistake or does not know something. He has no reservations of admitting from which instructor he has learnt a drill or technique that he is bestowing upon us. And he doesn’t mix around. If he says he will teach something, he will teach only that and not mix it around with any other knowledge that he has.

That is very important especially for a martial art, because every art / system / style has its own essence, flow and unique footwork. The presence and addition of a foreign concept from another school of thought will cause a clash. Yes you can mix things up, but one must first have a strong foundation in one’s art to have the understanding to intergrate in any new concept.

I’m the kind of person that has very limited trust towards others. I mean, I can be friendly. But to truly trust someone that I’ll give my time and all to that person, that person needs to be in my circle of trust.

But for a man such as my instructor, there is no question. My loyalty lies on a person, man or woman, with principals that they adhere to and practice.

And now that my tribute is done, a little sharing session about what I’ve learnt.

A few basics, pretty common sense and pretty much practiced by other combatives as well.

1
Always assume that you will attacked by multiple opponents.

2
Keep the altercations short and quick – this is where tactics and proper skills come. Why short? As stated in number 1, always assume you will be attacked by multiple opponents. If you spend too much time on one opponent, you’re opening yourself to attack from others. Also, you’re a human with a limited amount of stamina. Sure you may run rounds in the track all day. But when you’re under life and death situations, the adrenaline pumping in your system saps your stamina pretty quick.

3
Do not fear the blade, but respect the blade. A blade isn’t a toy. There must exist a certain level of respect towards it. Do not underestimate the damage a cut can do. In the hands of laymen, the blade swinging around is dangerous. In the hands of a skilled fighter, it is deadly.

4
Footwork is key. Hand techniques are important, but footwork plays a bigger important role. Displacement of the self is important in a bladed confrontation. Blocks do not work because the blade has many angles of attack and it can circumvent the obstacle a static block provides. Mobility is key. The blade or attack can’t hurt you if it isn’t able to reach you.

5
Cliche as it sounds, basics are important. As my instructor said, “There is no advance. Advance is just the combination of basics.”
A building without a strong foundation collapses easily.

6
Do not fight unless necessary. Another cliche but it has its grounds. Training with blades and blade-concepts have taught me that it is very easy to get killed with the presence of a weapon.

7
Practice practice practice. No matter how long you’ve trained, just like blades, you can get rusty and dull. Always sharpen your skills and keep fit.

I have to also give a thank you and respect to my seniors. They have guided me as well and have been teachers to me in their own right. But the emphasis of this post lies on my instructor because he is the progenator of the skill that I now possess within me.

As the Buddhist saying goes, “Respect your teacher and guru first before even Buddha because without them there wouldn’t even be any knowledge of Buddha in you”.

Weekly Writing Challenge : Student, Teacher

Weekly Writing Challenge : Flash Fiction – “Guardian”

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“No! I will not let you near him! You stay away!”

“Get out of the way! I will not allow that freak to live!”

The meat hook in his hand glinted dangerously. She was terrified. She knew her life was in danger. But she blocked the door behind her. She wouldn’t allow him to pass through.

“I will not let you harm my son!” she warned.

“He’s not our son! He’s a monster!” he said.

“He’s MY son! You don’t deserve him! I’ll kill you if you come closer you hear me?! I’LL KILL YOU!”

That made him snap. He struck and a scream filled the air as she fell to the floor, clutching her bleeding shoulder. He then kicked her on the side of her head, sending her flying across the floor. She gasped for air, struggling to get up.

“No…don’t hurt him…” she said, trembling at the throbbing pain.

The man turned towards the door and yanked it open, sending light pouring into the dark room beyond. A young boy stood inside, a huge white wing shielding his body.

Suddenly the boy was in front of him and the man started coughing out blood. He fell to his knees, clutching the huge opening on his torso, trying to stop his organs from pouring out.

The boy looked down at him with glowing pearl white eyes, his hand covered in blood.

He then walked towards the woman and wrapped his arms around her. She felt warm. Slowly her vision began to clear up, the pain on her shoulder dissipating. She looked at him.

“Am I…am I dreaming? Am I dead?”

“No, you’re alive…”

“Are you okay?”

“It’s okay mother. You’ve protected me all your life. You’ve been my guardian angel. Now it’s my turn to be yours…”


 

Weekly Writing Challenge : Flash Fiction

Weekly Writing Challenge : Great Expectations – “The Deeper Need”

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When I saw the title ‘Great Expectations’ and the topic was about, well, expectations, my brain went fiction. A story started manifesting itself.

But the think-tank then kicked to an even higher gear and started doing its thing. It started to connect elements of our living world and soon a web of thoughts started forming.

This is then a result of my mental musings, normally put into my other blog but as this is my blog for weekly challenges, it will go here. My other blog will link to this location as well.

Anyhoo…expectations…

As the mental processes went into action my thoughts came to social media. As a person who posts up on Facebook and here on WordPress, I realised that like it or not, I’m a victim of wanting an acknowledgement for the things I’m sharing.

It was like a drug. I was looking for feedback; a like or follow or comment – the lot, all to satisfy a need to be heard or seen. It made me contemplate why is it that I go through this wave of thoughts, feelings and such a need.

And then it came to me. Social media was a voice for us to reach out where our real voices had no strength or weight.  It’s a voice for our generation, a means to express ourselves and tell the world our thoughts, our true thoughts.

Now just a note before I proceed on, I’m saying this using myself as a point of reference. I’m sure there are those out there who aren’t affected by this sort of situation. Who have the confidence in them, or are sure of themselves. I’m a victim of occasional insecurities as well as coming from a history of lacking self-confidence. Only ever so lately am I slowly building it up.

Back to the topic. Why do I say true thoughts.

The thing is, whether one recognises it or not, society as we know it today is a ‘factory-system’ society. We come into a society having to follow certain ‘standards’ or ‘requirements’ or what is deemed proper or ideal. It’s a form of expectation.

The ideal body, ideal mindset, ideal hobbies, ideal path in career, ideal faith, ideal results in exams, ideal choices in people, ideal love choices…ideals ideals ideals.

We are expected to be this or that way. To like this or that. To be otherwise would garner weird glances and looks and prejudices.

The thing is, the human being is a being that is special. We are all special. We are all unique in some way or another. We are born with an inner potential that no other has – similar or very close maybe, but definitely not exactly the same.

But society today with its ideals forces us to enter certain expected societal moulds. An example is in our education system. How a student with good grades is deemed a good person while those with poor grades are labelled good-for-nothings.

The thing though is that there is the flaw in itself. Are we to judge that a person is a good-for-nothing or has no hope for his / her future just cause of some numbers or letters? And the point of reference for these ‘marks’ and ‘grades’ are based off information that actually changes with time? Example being new science discoveries that debunk the knowledge found in textbooks. So should we deem people who were judged based off old outdated knowledge good-for-nothing then?

Another good example? History. Ooh la la.

I’ve bear witness to so many changes in historical claims that I’ve changed my perception of how I looked at myself as a history student. I was terrible in history during my school days. And now? I think I’m a better historian than my own teachers. So am I a good-for-nothing now? Are my teachers good-for-nothing as well?

There are many examples of how judging someone just because they don’t fulfill the expectations of society is flawed.

Dropouts end up becoming millionaires – dropping out became the best blessing in disguise. And no, I don’t advocate dropping out just for the sake of dropping out. These successful dropouts of society did so and through that found the right channel to direct their energies to – their in-born potentials.

Not all of us are academically gifted. But we are gifted in other aspects – physically for sports, or mentally for analytical situations and so on. Some are born suited for engineering, or artistry, or sciences, or philosophy, or medical, etc.


 

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

– Albert Einstein –


 

I came from a family upbringing and background where being of an artistic inclination is deemed as being ‘stupid’ and those of the sciences are deemed smart and have a bright future. It’s in this conditioning that there’s a form of expectation and suppression. Expectation of what we should pursue and was deemed right. Suppression of the inner-potential, which in my case, was more inclined towards creativity and writing.

And this isn’t even coming from society yet, the outside world with its many beasts and monsters (grrr! gasp! *rolls eyes*).

The thing about the human spirit is that whenever there’s a suppression of free will, there are two natural reactions. Either you break free and be yourself or you go ‘numb’ aka accepting the suppression and become a zombie of society. Although from numb you can diverge to quite a lot of negative outcomes such as depression, losing yourself or worse.

Social media serves as our outlet to break free. We express ourselves via this channel. Whether it be blog posts, or selfies, or vids on Youtube or FB, or sound bytes, etc. It’s to get a feedback to our voice. We humans are social creatures, beings that require some form of interaction.

To have a like or positive comment is proof that there are individuals / groups out there who share our directions in life (likes, inclinations, hobbies, thoughts, etc). It’s a manifestation in the digital realm of acknowledgement that pushes us and tells us we’re okay, and that we’re not weird or queer or wrong in our decisions and undertakings and thoughts.

As the title goes, society today with its ideals, it’s a form of expectation. Call it rebellious but I kind of find it nice that there’s a movement to be oneself. More and more people are finding ways to express themselves and to break from the social mould of what an individual should be; should look like, smell like, eat like, talk like, hear like, sound like.

To say, “This is me. I’m unique. I’m the way I am.”

I’m not saying that if you’re a sociopath you walk down that path. Oh no. There are of course very fundamentals no-no’s. But I think if you have a quirk that doesn’t hurt anybody but makes you happy, I don’t see what is wrong with that.

I think we as human beings have to start developing empathy and acceptance for others. Use of intellect and the development of a real human heart of compassion to reach out to others, or at least, not ostracize another.

Instead of judging with the glasses of expectations why not change them to glasses of understanding? Learn the history of a person, why he / she / he-she is the way they are. You’ll be surprised that you’ll learn something new and walk away with a deeper understanding that the world isn’t black and white, and it’s not what you’ve expected.

The perception of your world is the result of cultural, communal and societal conditioning. And that bubble of conditioning is actually a very small bubble. Break out of that bubble and you will see that the world is much bigger.

A room is four walls. But open that door and window and you’ll see a different view. Step out through either of them and you will see a different world of possibilities.

Perhaps then you will realise that prejudgments are most of the time uncalled for and expectations should be readjusted and checked or should just plain be made redundant. More often than not, viewing something unfamiliar with curiosity instead of prejudice, you may find more excitement in learning something new about someone else, and most definitely, about yourself.

As a closing note, remember that these are just my opinions and the mental musings of my brain. Just the result of me trying to connect the dots of a material element with an abstract element within the human condition.

So long as you don’t harm yourself or others, stay yourself and find the love within. That you are special, unique and no one should judge you if you’ve done no wrong. And also, that there are people who share your train of thoughts and personalities and that you’re not alone.


 

Weekly Writing Challenge : Great Expectations

Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry – “The Bench”

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The clear bright orange coloured dusk skies,
The voices of the people nearby,
The swaying trees, scampering critters,
The gentle winds that let out a sigh.

The old man sat quietly on the bench,
Looking at the children before him play,
He had a soft smile on his old face,
Serenity was all he felt that day.

He looked at the person to his side,
And the old lady smiled back at him,
“Beautiful isn’t it?” his eyes said,
“Yes it is”, a gentle sweet waking dream.

And slowly, his world faded to grey,
He was suddenly not where he sat,
He was instead standing far away,
The bench a distance from where he’s at.

He stood next to a wee little boy,
Who looked curiously straight ahead,
The man followed the little child’s gaze,
And saw a family walking instead.

The parents were talking to each other,
A girl the mother was carrying,
They were happy and smiling as they stopped,
And sat on the bench, the girl laughing.

The old man turned and saw the boy gone,
He saw an older boy behind a tree,
The family at the bench was gone too,
Replaced by some girls chatting with glee.

The old man smiled at the sight of the girls,
But heard someone behind him walking,
He turned to see a young teenage lad,
Walking to a lone teenage girl sitting.

She sat on the bench engrossed in her book,
Truly lost somewhere on an adventure,
She was startled as he sat next to her,
Nervous he was, in his hand a flower.

She was lost, not knowing what to say,
She stood up and quickly ran away,
The boy called out to her to no avail,
Gone like the wind and passing of day.

But she returned to the bench again,
This time wearing a different dress,
And the same young lad came once again,
A new flower held close to his chest.

This time she awaited his arrival,
She awaited in silence as he came,
No words spoken but any would know,
The lad had won her heart in this game.

She smiled and took the flower from him,
And though the world was a colour grey,
You could tell her cheeks were turning pink,
There was no need for any words to say.

And suddenly there was a loud call,
And there came running a middle aged man,
The two teens at the bench were now gone,
A young woman was there, waving her hand.

He walked up to her and gave her a hug,
She hugged back, dressed for an occassion,
He gave her a kiss, a deep felt one,
A reward for her graduation.

A gust of wind now blew from nowhere,
And the old man held down his cap tight,
As he peered beneath the cap he saw,
Before him at the bench was quite a sight.

The woman stood at the bench all silent,
The man was on his knees, looking at her,
Autumn leaves flew but it was all so clear,
Her hand in his, a ring on her finger.

And she burst out crying happily,
Hugged him tightly, and kissed him so deep,
He smiled back and held her tightly too,
“Yes!” was all she had said, yes indeed.

The old man smiled, a tear in his eye,
He let out a very heartfelt sigh,
And he then heard the familiar screams,
Of little children, of laughter and cry.

A bright flash came and the old man blinked,
Back at the bench where he was before,
He saw the old lady fast asleep,
He smiled at her, the one he adore.

A little cute child walked up to him,
And patted his lap so very gently,
“Grand papa! Grand papa!” the child called,
The child he took, lifted and carry.

A young couple walked up to him smiling,
And the woman gave his cheek a kiss,
“It is time to go home now” she said,
She called out to her two other kids.

The old man nudged the old lady awake,
And they left the bench to leave the park,
The sun was setting behind the clouds,
Soon their side of the world will turn dark.

The old man held the old lady’s hand,
The woman he had loved all his life,
From the day he saw the girl on the bench,
To the very day she became his wife.

My dear sweetheart, my very beloved,
Remember the bench where we always sat?
Do you remember what it meant to us,
In all occassions, happy or sad.

Till death do us part they always say,
I will never leave you my love ever,
Thank you for being there in my life,
From then, now, tomorrow and forever…


 

Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry

Weekly Writing Challenge : Fifty – “Gift”

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He watched the little girl sleeping peacefully, feeling sadness within. He placed the gift teddy bear next to her and kissed her softly. She shivered a little.

“Happy birthday sweetheart. I love you, always,” he whispered.

He then turned around and followed the angel, the both of them fading away.


 

Weekly Writing Challenge – Fifty