Who: An Old Man and OPEN What: Cleaning up the aftermath around town. When: March 29th Where: Down near the beach and in town. Rating: TBA
Note: If you want to interact with God you can pose an interaction moment or something you'd like God's help with, and he might come see you. He can be in multiple places at once, of course.
There was an old man who stood by the beach a while when the clouds cleared, after the nightmarish wave swept over the land and dragged with horrible fingers all the remnants of lost lives down the shore. The sky cracked wide open for him as if it were a broken mirror. Light poured onto his weathered head and down his still face. His toes, bare, were clutched at by the tumultuous breakers that still pecked at the shoreline, and he whispered to them softly.
Be still, waves.
His voice reached out, out, further and further into the depths. He was the depths and they were him, and they enveloped the dread serpent, who despite his treacherous ways was still his child.
Be still, my son.
He commanded it, and let it pass. The old man with his skin like leather and an old linen suit clinging to his frame walked up the beach. Many voices reached his ears, felt and absorbed.
Why, God, why?
Oh God, my house! My car!
God damn it!
God, please, if you let me out of here I swear I will never drink again...
The last was from someone who had leapt into his cellar once the chaos began, hiding from what seemed to be a haunting. The old man bowed his head as he walked slowly, sedately down the street. He had watched as the tree in the man's yard was struck by a stray bolt of lightning and fell, trapping him inside.
Oh God, please, have mercy, I don't want to die...
The old man paused. He knew the ribbons of fate. The man would die if no one came.
It was not his plan. The man was simple. Humble. Middle-management. But one day he would pull a woman back who would errantly step into the street and nearly be hit by a car turning the corner. She would be grateful to him. They would marry and rejoice in the Lord. They would spread their kindness to those they met, have children who would light up their lives, and die with dedication. He would hold them each in his arms amongst infinite fields of precious flowers. Welcome home.
As he thought it, it had come to pass, and yet had not come to pass. He was all times and all places.
The old man looked up towards the precariously-leaning telephone poles. One wire hung loose. With just a nudge it fell, smacked the ground, and crackled loudly as its loop completed briefly and it let off a spark. Someone would hear it and they would come.
No mortal would see the old man, but he was there. He watched.