Sunday, June 15, 2014

On the other side of the Great Divide: Realistic Fiction

He was forty and didn't have much to show for it. Where did his life go wrong? His mind wandered back to his first big crush, over in Europe. She was an American, like him. Her father was an Officer in the US Army. "What happened to her?" he wondered. It had been so long since he had even thought of her. 

He settled into his wooden chair to eat breakfast, the matter forgotten again. The dream he had the following night was disturbing him, to say the least. It left more questions than answers. Why was he seeing so many symbols in his dreams? He admitted to himself he often read his dreams more than the opinions of others. Something big was going to happen, and he knew it. What was it? Only the Almighty knew, and the Almighty tends to keep certain secrets close but will sometimes "hint" that something is about to transpire. "Perhaps they all rejected me because I am too insular" he thought. He didn't talk much, and when he did, it was in a subconscious desire to have friends. 

He lived a life alone. People considered him a loner but he really desired a real life with friends and family but they had all but rejected him. He didn't talk much to anyone and sometimes someone would try to make friends with him, but the relationship wouldn't last long. "Friends and family can betray" he knew this at his core. His own parents had suddenly changed their tone towards him. He knew it was his own little brother, his own brother! who had betrayed him, all in the name of filthy lucre.

He feared people and he was paranoid. He knew this and was all too certain that "just because you are paranoid doesn't mean that they aren't out to get you." But he also remembered that in order to remain alive, he needed to exercise mental discipline. He was intelligent, although his own father considered him to be a sub-moron. Just because you are silent does not mean that you are disabled. He felt too much like the little dog that everyone kicked because they didn't understand him.

He was not violent, he was in many way a true Christian but he did struggle a bit. Like everyone sometimes his pride got the best of him, or he accused someone of theft when they didn't do it. Perhaps that was his problem nowadays, he thought, he tended to be so insular he forgot to gather the facts before he acted. Several people left him, angry because of it. 

He went to work and remained in his comfort zone, listening to the radio and since the job was easier than moronic, he turned off that part of his mind mostly but because of attention deficient disorder, he had to remind himself of certain details. One thing that burned hot in his heart: Freedom. He felt it's call throughout his life and since he mostly raised himself (his father didn't care) His strongest calling in his heart was love for all nations, like his Master the Christ. No-one saw this, sometimes he hinted at it. He doubt anyone even understood him. He was also thankful that unexpected friends in the company he worked for helped get him his job. 

So, although he wasn't perfect, he was still in this world. And he awaited the reason for his meager existence. Perhaps there was to be a moment of "passing on the torch" or do something huge for the Kingdom of Heaven? The Creator knew. He was good at communicating with the written word. He often resorted to it when he wanted to express himself. Perhaps this was indeed his true gift. Talking from "his mind to his keyboard" was so much easier than talking to people. He was slowly getting better at talking with people though. 

He was celibate, having vowed a vow to the Creator, to neither date nor marry for the Kingdom of Heaven's sake. He felt that he "blew it" with his last relationship. It seemed like the Blessed path to take. He knew that most people never went down this path because of it's hidden dangers, and sometimes he even entertained the thought of leaving off the vow but reality always snapped him back. Always. He had recently stopped playing an online game he had been playing for almost four years now. He was sick to death of it and wanted to "move on" to something else. He had been a huge reader of books written by 18th Century authors but now he held off from buying any more, because of the expense and the trouble of having to carry them with him. 

He was a Park and Resort worker, met many Internationals and was surprised that Europeans understood him better than Americans and actually wanted to talk with him. He supposed it was because he spent several years of his formative life in Europe and it impacted him greatly. He still loved European culture more than American culture. He would have been comfortable in England or even Germany but then again he was only playing the cards he was given. 

Was it to be? Everything in his life seemed to be pointing to something greater, much greater than himself. Only if he knew. He shook his head, only if he knew. All the dreams, all the signs, all the life he had lived. What was it? Only the Almighty knew.

Not yet the end. God's will be done.

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