Modus Vivendi | By: Kerry Kort | | Category: Short Story - Spiritual Fantasy Bookmark and Share

Modus Vivendi

As I stare through the eyes of deception, I see the flaws of humanity racing by me as if I am the Christ of our time. Each man gently smiling as another steals the life from my battered body. With this sense of loneliness, I close my eyes and ask, “Why?”
Today started out ever so beautifully with the morning sunshine blanketing the fears that haunt my dreams. The little sparrows chirping while they exercise their freedom. The kiss from my lover cleansing my heart and soul.
“Within happiness resides a beast. A creature of untold mortality, and prophesied as the next king. Its creator is unaware of its brutality. We are unscathed by its obsession with pain, tragedy, and hatred. For eternity we have been warned, yet we will still be surprised when its dark reign of death finds our time. We will scream as it bites off the heads of our children. We will cry as it murders our mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. We will hide in terror as it searches for its next victim. We will ask, ‘Why?’ We will scream, ‘NO!’ But it won’t make a difference. We are the hand of justice and our saviors, our heroes, our myths will be far from our imaginations. Fate will be buried beneath the headstone of destiny, and the stars will outshine the grace of God. Ancestral ties will be yielded as we face the tears that ignite the hortative flame of Hell. Love will kiss our wounds with salty lips as death escapes the grasp of Mnemosyne. Our phantasmagorical lives will be played in slow motion.”
My place in the Elysian Fields has been stolen by the heart of another. Her voice punishing the ears of Eros with her song of true happiness. Each note caressing my soul, and massaging my mind. In each syllable there lies a secret that has yet to be discovered, a secret full of amorous love. This song is one of unattainable dreams and untamed frailty. Playing as the beat in every man’s heart, it decays slowly with age. Denying the truth and pacifying the cheers of sinful youth.
“Burn him at the stake, hang him from the bleeding tree, flay him as if he were a fish.” Their bloodthirsty screams terrifying the few that actually stand true and place their duties somewhere other than death. “Listen.” they say. “God’s words speak through us. Destroy the one who deceives, he is lost and cannot be found. His sanity has fled. It’s left him in a bleak world of desire. A world in which we will not tolerate. Let us spill his blood and feed upon his flesh. Consume every ounce of thievery, every morsel of homicide, every bit of adultery. Devour his sin and recreate life. But be weary of my tainted son, time will preach of his forgiveness. His journey will be one of fantasy, with purple skies, and white nights. With men and women leading him down paths of paved degradation. Generic appetites will be fused with organic simplicity. And his soul will be dancing amongst the universe, reciting every word from every story he wrote.”

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