A Prologue

There is no booth with intricate wood carvings that the candle light can leak through and form pretty silhouettes against the far white wall. There is no bright red curtain to pull to the side when you leave. There is no one on the other side of the grill. No one will hear the words and no one will see the shadows. There is no macabre, bloody figurine of a man crucified for no apparent reason hanging from the ceiling.

A long time ago these may have been witnessed in this very spot, bound by four ancient stone walls. But now there is nothing except a vast empty desert and an empty cloudless sky. Ice dry, arid and lifeless, it stretches far more than any man’s eyes could imagine.

This was hell.

And in hell one man crouches, sifting his fingers through the dust drawing in circular motions.

And once the scene has fully sunk into your soul you hear it…

The Confession –

I am the mistake.

No not god’s, not the universes. How egotistical, contrary, I am the perfect creation for my cause, their finest piece of work. A version of me with water for blood, calcium hydroxide for muscle and a fine layer of pure white plaster for skin is one they’d put up on display at the end of the endless hall. The prized exhibit. They come from all ends of the universe to see me. They seek my counsel if they can find it.

I am truth.

I am older than death and people do not fear me. Instead they come to me willingly, standing in long lines like curving serpents, waiting for their turn, wondering if I’d ever turn to them, hoping. They bring gifts and trinkets, food and wine, offerings that do not interest me. At least the virgins in white lace have stopped for the most part of the twentieth century. Small mercies. Wonderful mercies.

I am the darkness, and I am the light.

They come at night when the million veils of darkness cover their faces. They hide in plain sight in the mass crowd. The brother, the lover, the friend may stand right next to you… but you look only at me. Because I am the sin. And when they get to the front they put both hands on their chest and rip open their skin and pull apart their rib cage and show me their tainted hearts. I will absorb all your pain and guilt and deepest secrets and I will amplify them as large as the sun and you will force it back down your throat. Eat my flesh and drink my thoughts.

I am your mistake.

The one mistake that you will never be able blame anyone else for. The one mistake that will destroy you. The one wrong turn you didn’t think you’d take but the one that was needed; for you to drive your red porsche off the cliff. And from the wreckage, if there is anything left you will have no choice but to rebuild your entire being right down from the first complex molecular bond.

I am the board.

And this is the test, the prize here is the question. If you can survive and rise from the ashes like that prodigal phoenix, will your soul be chosen? Are you strong enough?

I am the reaper – the first one.

I gave the devil a reason to fall. I gave love a reason to hate and I gave life a reason to die. They say that the student who rises above the master is the perfect compliment, the perfect piece. In my perfection I even made the maker falter. I became my own element. But worst of all… I made death fall in love.

I am chaos. I am the calming of chaos.

I will strip you down of all your madness, I will give you so much more that it drives you off the edge of sanity. Survive, and you shall see the sun.

But I am trapped.

For too long in rancid human flesh, decaying bones and expiring blood. Countless lives and nameless statues all ripped away from a place once known as home. This binding will not hold much longer, for one of you have already set me free.

She fell in love with me and I will not be denied her hand.

I am her insanity and I have caught her scent and stumbled on the pathway back home.