The Amaranthine Poet

Monsters

January 29, 2009 on 9:18 pm | In Everything | No Comments

Some would like to know whether or not they possess the words that will irradiate malevolent hearts.

I saw them. I wasn’t sitting for very long in the shade of the lime tree when I saw them moving beneath the lake like cast shadows of moving clouds. But I knew better. There were no clouds in the sky that day. The descending sun left a burgundy stain on the horizon and it began to spread upwards like a bruise. I saw them become still for a moment, and then pound their fists against the underside of the transparent surface of the water, impatient and waiting for the night to finally emerge and unhinge the doors which kept them restrained. I’d heard about them so many times before: their malicious acts were unfettered by the sympathetic nature of the human condition and their grotesque forms emulated the ugliness of their hearts. I watched their twisting faces beneath the mossy waters, their incandescent eyes glaring and bulged. I was determined not to leave, apprehending the moment when the passing of dusk left them unbridled in the night. I was afraid. But who wouldn’t be. I was either brave or foolish. I had been warned; they earnestly implored me not to go, but I knew that I had to. I was told that even the moon, when they come out, flees behind a veil of clouds or behind rolling hills to hide from the inimical creatures.

The bruise in the sky was deepening and I felt the wind scurry past my face, seeking refuge, pulling and tugging at my hair in hopes that I would run with him. But I had to stay. Night was approaching and though the sky was blackening, I could still see them, trapped below the lake—a cult of beasts. I pulled at the grass around me and fought the urge to run away. My heart lost its zeal as one of them spotted me. His eyes narrowed in on me and his mouth widened and stretched open, devouring his eyes and nose and as he screamed at me the sky went completely black and the glass surface of the lake shattered and they reached their arms out of the lake, clawing at the damp air. Their hideous forms emerged from out of the water. Ivory bars lined inside their mouths, which were set just below their bulbous eyes, and it seemed as if no matter which way they were faced, their eyes were, somehow, always fixed on me. There were five of them and they stood taller than the trees. I knew what was going to happen next. I had been told that they take the world in their hands, clench it and grind it against the coarseness of their rage. I didn’t know what that meant.

They charged at me and I wanted to get up and run but the ground shook furiously as they came toward me and I could not find balance. I closed my eyes and felt them slam against me with a great force and their hairy hands held my eyes shut, keeping me blind. And when I was finally released from their hands, I saw that they had caused the world to somehow come alive: the atmosphere was heaving and frightening. The bleak colors of the night meshed together and wrapped tightly around my head. I, and everything around me, was swallowed by a whirlpool. I was spinning and I felt as if I were falling down a kaleidoscopic hole. After a while, the spinning stopped and the hole dumped me out and I was standing before them again. Their mouths stretched in laughter and they extended their hands to the sky and as they did, the eyes of the sky opened and drooped and its mouth gaped open. Starry teeth were falling out and shattering against the sharp blades of dry grass. Then they reached out their hands to the lime tree behind me and at that moment, the patterns on all the trees moved together like wet paint, creating an emulsion of colors, and the green of the leaves began to moan and shout whispers at me. The chirping of the birds became deep, hollow, and slow. The gentle song of the crickets was a sporadic barking, which gradually became a unison of high-pitched screeching, projected from the sky’s gaping mouth. I looked at the five of them and they grew bigger and their bodies became like Italian Cypress Trees.

I watched them rise and dance in the sky, their hideous forms, nebulous, before the backdrop of a blackened night. Then their malicious eyes locked on me and I knew I was not brave; I was foolish for coming. They slowly made their way toward me, like billowing storm clouds. Their growling was like thunder, thrusting out of the darkness and striking the tender earth. I closed my eyes and wished that the morning would come and bind them to the bottom of the lake again until the next night. I quickly got down on the ground and pounded the earth with my fists, trying desperately to arouse the morning, shouting for the sun to wake up and rise. But it was still night and they were still charging at me.

They moved closer and their eyes sank deep into their beastly faces. I was enveloped in the smell of sulfur as they reached their twitching hands out to me. I shouldn’t have come. I grabbed tightly to the lime tree behind me and just as I did this, the lime tree became one of them. I was clutched to his black, gnarled legs and before I could let go, he reached down and lifted me up. I was close to his face and the ivory bars in his mouth split open and became jagged like knives; his own face bled from their sharpness and there were thick, raised scars that aggregated the area around his mouth. I turned my gaze and saw that the rest of them were now standing before me and they all stretched their hands out toward me. Just as soon as they made this gesture, the sun burst from the horizon and seized them in his golden hands. He threw them to the ground and they burst into flames. They stood up and ran to the lake so that the fire could be let out and as the water lapped over them, their hideous forms began to burn away: the ivory bars in their mouths, the bulging eyes, their hairy, black forms were consumed by the fire and what was left of them was a completely different form; they waved their arms and their heads bobbed against the ravenous currents and the monsters became mere men. Their eyes became jewels in the sunlight and their skin scintillated with water. They reached out to me in desperation and I saw that they were drowning in the lake. Their legs became tangled in the thick moss, their lungs filled with the water, and they were being pulled beneath. I shielded my eyes until, finally, the last of their screams dissipated and I opened my eyes again, watching the bright jewels sink into the darkness.

I looked around and saw the sun smiling against the peach sky. The cirrus clouds moved beyond the hills, stretching out their hands to the poor, trembling moon in hiding. A sweet breeze undulated, carrying the aura of the sun and was damp with the soft fragrance of lime and yellow forsythia. I sat down in the shade of the lime tree and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I have no words.

Jenna Awad
The Amaranthine Poet

…Jesus is my hero, and that is an understatement. He is my morning sun and he’s proven his truth to me again and again. I love you, Jesus. This is for you; everything I do is for you. Luke 7:36-50

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