Sodom's Rebirth

This is a surreal story written about a year ago. It actually has a deep meaning and moral, and I hope somebody can figure it out.

It was bitter; the air pricked like small pins upon my face. Above me, the night sky was clear: a deep, majestic indigo. A few misplaced streetlights on the sides of the street glowed in an orange hue, and within them I could see small flickers as the light struggled to stay aglow. I ignored the pang of curiosity that rang slightly within my chest, which sent a small ache through my stomach. My work-boots crushed miniscule pieces of dirt and gravel beneath them, making slight but obvious noises—implying that I was indeed walking.

The early winter temperature and scenery blended well with the chilly atmosphere of the street. Nothing truly seemed right; everything had a queer sort of mien. I blinked in dismissal of the thought. It was a silly concept: that something may be out of place. It was more than unlikely, put more plainly at preposterous, however I then realized what a paradox it was, because I then heard a loud crash.

I turned; and behind me the lights went out, followed by another bang, and there were more extinguished lights. I gasped and ran forward, to escape the chain reaction as it accelerated down the street. My shoes hit the ground quickly, and I ran far down the road as the pounding continued. I heard screaming behind me. I glanced back to be almost turned to stone, as though Sodom and Gomorrah had begun again; only this time it had nothing to do with God.

The sight that turned my body ice cold, and into unmovable stone, was that of the glowing within the darkness: the scarlet hue that was emanating from the black.

A spectral fog floated slickly over the remaining lights, placing the region around me in a deep pall. More screaming erupted as all light went out. I did not know what exactly could do the sort of terrorizing that I saw. The screams implored for help, but I could not move. A dark figure moved toward me, closer, and closer. I closed my eyes and swallowed, still unable to move. I felt the air around me become stagnant and rise what seemed like several degrees. It seemed no longer like winter, but like a humid mid-summer night. I could not understand that when I breathed, my breath became rings of smoky fog, adding to the darkness that engulfed the lights.

I willed my body to move, entreating continuously. My legs would not turn; my arms would not move to block my face from the horror approaching me.

It was a chaotic sight; within the figure were eyes in colors I could not pinpoint on the spectrum. Although the body of the figure was dark, I squinted as though a bright light hurt my eyes. Within its claw was a long metal edge; without moving, the blade seemed to cut at my confidence and fortitude. As the figure approached, it became no less obscure; I could see none of the features on its countenance and I was far from seeing details of its stature.

But the figure – the figure was very tall, much taller than I – me being just over six feet. I saw nothing but the perplexing eyes and the black that surrounded them as the figure advanced to be none but a foot in front of me. My breath quickened, and the small rings floated through this individual, a singular fellow he must have been. For a moment I thought this all may be some sort of delusion, nothing more than a mere reverie, but as I felt the burning metal seer the skin of my body, I knew it could not be. However, I reasoned, could I be? Is it so possible that I might just be something of a delusion? Can delusions feel pain? Can nothings feel pain?

It was a remarkable thought, I figured, as the pain shot into my chin. The blade must have torn through and up, and I thought of pain, oh yes, and I breathed pain. I felt like my body was preparing itself for a fall; the blade must have been the only thing keeping me from falling. So was this death? Ah, I do not know.

However now, I relay this to you through the fog that covers the light above you. I oblige you to turn now, as the lights continue to fade. I urge you, turn to see what awaits you; you may even see me. Your mind tells you to run and don’t turn back. Stopping will be your death, and yes, it may well be. Curiosity, however, is a far more fascinating thing to observe. So turn, turn, yes.

Can you, you nothing, taste the pain? Can you hear it? Become Sodom’s rebirth, I say, a city of sin will feed your curiosity. I remember that hot feeling; it was when my soul flew to the light—covering the street-lamps, which disguised the radiance with a thick shroud. It was a darkness much like the one you see covering the creature’s eyes: the stars, and the blade: the moon, such a scythe-like reaper.

He reaps only that which he sows. He always takes what he has given.

Author's Note

grammar issues, any constructive criticism is warmly welcomed. If you loved it, wonderful!!! lol