I cannot
adequately describe the devastating sound I heard that day and have never been
close enough to experience its destructive power again. An explosive flash of light took away my
vision and the earth below my feet shook with terrifying impact. The innermost parts of my ears rang with pain.
My body winced from the crushing noise
and the blast of heat. It felt like
anger displayed in an outburst of energy, light, and sound. Every muscle in my body stiffened. I lost control and fell to the ground.
Giant pieces of
earth flew through the air with smaller clumps separating as they traveled, and
I could hear their impact on the ground around me. In complete shock, I stammered to my knees to
return upright and regain some sense of balance.
I should have
expected all of it but despite the warning I had received, I was not prepared
for what would happen next.
When my vision
returned to me, I raced up the walkway to the cypress wood structure that
served as my protection from the wrath. Stumbling several times, I struggled to salvage
control of my legs, but failed. On my
hands and knees I scrambled through the final distance into safety and
collapsed just inside.
The next noise
startled me almost as much as the first but despite its subtlety, reminded me
of my duty. I heard the creaking sound
of wood as it strained under a great load. The door that I had crafted within the last
few weeks began to close—on its own. Mystified,
and still on the ground, I swung one arm and one leg around, reorienting my
body upward from a crawling position, so that I could face my destiny. I watched the massive door swing slowly
closed. It closed not in a random unaffected
way, but deliberately slow, as to reveal there was a force behind it and that
force was allowing me the time to change my mind if I so desired. I shuffled backwards on my hands and feet away
from the massive walkway, almost committing with my body an oath to the task
ahead. I was not going anywhere.
A thin beam of light revealed the
space left for the door to finally shut. I looked past the opening to see people
outside, just as shaken as me, return to their feet. Placing their hands on their heads for
protection, they fled to the hills seeking refuge from the explosions and
debris. They looked from side to side,
even tucking their heads down to be sure of their footing, but it struck me
that they never looked up.
I narrowed my vision back to the
closing door and finally, with a blast of warm damp air--it was shut.
Now isolated
from the world, I rubbed the soreness of my calloused hands and wondered when I
would ever escape this new confinement. I immediately corrected my thoughts about
escape when greater concerns flooded my mind.
Something so
terrible was about to happen and I could now smell the awful stench of fear
oozing from my own skin.
I screamed in
anguish, "Why will they not listen? I pleaded with them, and they refused to work
with the master."
I moved my dry,
weathered lips with some more mutterings of punishing regret, but no one could
hear me--not now. Death would cover the
land with a blanket of wrath from my master and there was nothing my words
could do to stop it.
Just moments
before, I felt renewed…protected…safe, as I passed through the door that was
now closed. My fate was sealed with that
door. Their fate, those who were on the
other side, was sealed as well. Like passing
over into a new life, I would be saved and the others would perish.
I wept and as I contemplated what
would happen next, droplets of sorrow fell to the ground.
I thought
for a moment about the warning that was delivered to me.
It was so long
ago: the planning and the preparation, the back-breaking labor, and the years
of ridicule. With regret, I realized the
work had consumed me but there was no choice. I worked, or I perished. This task had changed me. People used to tell me how comforting I was, how
when they shared time with me they felt rested and at ease. That nature, however, had long been lost
because of what I knew would soon happen.
My face showed the exterior
effects of clenching my teeth together either from the pain in my bones from
years of labor or from the anticipation of what was to come. There was a permanent bend downward to the
shape of my lips. The muscles in my
staunch neck also shared that same burden of anticipation as they revealed the clenched
status of my jaws. I shut my eyes as if
I could stop the thoughts from entering my mind. I tried to focus on something else besides the
pending destruction.
I thought
about my part of the project. Was there
anything I had missed? I muttered
through some calculations, but it was no use...the passage for escape was
evidently shut and if I had forgotten anything, it was too late to correct it
now. Through the years of preparation I
rarely gave assessment to what this day might look like. I kept my mind busy and willed myself not to
think about it. But now...now my work
was finished. All the calculations and
labor were complete. It was my master's
time to work now. My mind was free to contemplate
the thoughts of destruction, but I resisted. I took command of my mind and pushed the
inevitable horror out.
I focused
on a new sound demanding the attention of my ears. It had just started and it was coming from
outside. At first it was barely audible.
I felt the sound was familiar but
struggled to place it. Surely it was the
sound of water but not like the nourishing streams near my old house. This sound was destructive. This sound was like the rushing waters that
traveled through the jagged landscape pushing through giant formations of earth
and rock.
"No...stronger,"
I said out loud, correcting my thoughts.
This was the
sound of water falling from a high cliff as it crashes to the earth with
jolting force, like
standing at the bottom of a vast waterfall that falls from a great distance
overhead. The sound had become so
staggering and increasingly louder, that my mind could not interpret it fast
enough. It was like I was standing in
the middle of a stampede of many four-legged beasts, like the roar of a running
herd of leaf-eating longnecks stomping the earth with their giant legs. This was as if the mighty river that flows
from the direction of the morning light was actually falling from the sky.
My ears
hurt from the noise. I covered them with
my hands, but it didn't help. I could actually
feel the destructive energy from outside as it pierced my body’s senses on the
inside. I shifted my eyes back to the
giant door, almost expecting to see water rushing in, but it was sealed tight. I could smell the dampness from outside even
over the powerful organic odors of my new confinement.
I looked up
and surveyed the series of footholds that would take me to a narrow opening
high above my head. The opening was more
for ventilation than observation, but I was sure I would be able to witness
firsthand the destruction occurring outside.
From there I might be able to view the unprecedented event initiated
from the hands of my master. I clamped
my hands around the rails of the ladder and slapped my foot on the first rung.
I paused.
"My eyes
should see this not," I mouthed the words as they came to me. Defiantly, the punishing noise outside
beckoned my curiosity. I knew what my
master told me would happen, but I had never actually seen anything like it. The uniqueness of this event was so compelling
that I felt helpless to resist the urge to watch it.
Nevertheless, curiosity
was a different matter than fear and fear dominated my emotions. My legs trembled and I wondered if I could
even conquer the ascent. I had climbed
these heights so many times for so many years and often with tools and supplies
strapped to my back. My physical
strength did not restrain me. My spirit
caused this hesitation and in anguish I resisted the damage such an experience
could have on my senses.
"It would
not be wise," said a gentle voice in my head.
Nevertheless, I climbed.
As I lifted my
leg to the next step I thought about the powerless years I had struggled to
avoid the visions that seeped into my mind. Despite my daytime success to avoid the
damaging thoughts, at night, I possessed no control. As I slept, my mind would rage rampant with
images of future destruction. Yet still,
the catastrophic day contained in my nightmares was regrettably upon me and I
unwisely muted the cautious voice in my head and allowed curiosity to force me
to climb. I must answer the questions
and see for myself. Step by step,
defiant intrigue quickened my pace.
The master's
wrath had come swiftly. There would be
no survivors beyond those who had helped the master with the project.
As I ascended, I
remembered my master telling me what would happen on this day. The details were vague, but I knew that the
floodgates would burst open on a specific day, in a designed way, to destroy
everything and everyone.
There would be
no exceptions.
There would be
no avoidance.
There would be
nothing left.
The master's
wrath would be carried out exactly as he willed. I remembered the grateful feelings of relief
when the master explained to me how I uniquely could avoid the disaster for myself
and my family.
I refocused on
my ascent, and when I had just about reached the halfway point of the lengthy
climb, I thought briefly I could hear the sound of pounding coming from outside
of the protective structure. Like hands
beating wildly on a giant wooden door.
My head tilted. I listened.
After straining my ears for a few
moments, it was lost. I could only hear the deafening crash of the
water from above and outside. I never
heard the pounding again but the sound of rushing water was so deafening it was
impossible to hear anything else. I
questioned the reality of my own survival. The noise of the water was maddening--so
destructive.
Would everything hold as
designed?
Had I calculated the strength of
my work correctly?
There were the years early on
when men would come and sabotage my work. They took material and broke entire days of
advancement, delaying the project. Was
there something I missed inspecting? Had
all of my workers followed my instructions exactly? The weight and pressure of the water would
expose the slightest weakness in our work.
I needed at
least another month to inspect every inch of the design. It was too late for that now. I quickened the pace of my climb again. Every step upward was a battle between my curiosity
and my fear. Oh! how that too familiar
voice in my head pleaded with me to turn back.
There were seven others chosen
for this project: three other men and four women. Some days
they were welcome members of the task; other days they were
annoyances and distractions from my work. As I climbed, I wondered how they were doing. Surely they were afraid as well. I was their leader, their strong tower of
wisdom and security. I had an obligation
to see them through to the end.
I told myself, “No matter what happens
I must keep them safe. I must rely on
the master's plan to make it to the end.”
For the entire project, I had given direction
to the other seven people. They followed my leading even when the stress made
me lose my temper. So many calculations were made--didn't they
know how hard it was to manage such an immense project? Ultimately, their work…our work would lead to
survival or death. Error had no place. The work meant everything and I often didn't
have the time or the patience for distractions.
The right thing to do now would
be to return to the others and comfort them in their fear. Yet, once again their needs would have to
wait. I reached the top of the ladder,
swung my leg over and planted both feet victoriously on the wooden floor.
The long narrow
opening was in sight. I looked passed
the beautiful wood I had crafted with my own hands and saw the ugliness of a
pale gray sky. With both feet now
resting on a level surface at the top, I rubbed the back of my legs to ease the
strain I felt from the climb. My mouth
was dry. I needed some water.
Instinctively, I
walked the short distance to a water collection system that I built for the
inhabitants of the structure. The giant reservoirs
at the end of an elaborate piping system would store enough water to sustain a
small city for a year. By my
calculations, I imagined the reservoirs filling after a week or two of
collection. I took hold of one of the
wooden pipes that transported the water from the outside into the reservoirs. I could feel the vibrations caused by a strong
current of water swiftly traveling its length.
Boastfully, my cheeks rose causing my eyes to squint just a little as a
small smile took over my face. I wanted
to take credit for the idea, but truthfully it came to me in a dream. The idea was not my own but for the moment I
gleaned with pride as I diverted some water into my hands and drew them to my
dry lips.
The water tasted
clean--cleaner and more refreshing than anything I had ever consumed. Just one tiny sip sent a jolt of energy
throughout my body. The irony struck me.
The same water that gave me life on the
inside was avenging the master's wrath in a torrent of destruction on the
outside. I swallowed a large handful,
restoring my energy completely. With
haste I walked over to the nearest access point of the ventilation system
wiping the moisture from my hands on the sides of my garment as I walked.
When the gray
light reached my eyes, my first impulse was to survey everything. Quickly scanning the scene, my shoulders
tensed and the longer I looked the stiffer my body became. The big items struck my vision first: water...an
ocean of water. Shockingly, there was already
no land to be seen anywhere; explosions with huge pieces of red hot stones
trailing steam behind them as they raced across the sky; giant trees were ripped
from their roots; huge animals strained to evade the depths, some tall enough
to stand, some struggling barely above the surface of the water; giant pieces
of buildings were being tossed around like child toys in a raging river; people
were grabbing a hold of anything to stay afloat.
In horror, I
grasped the sides of my head. My
eyebrows lowered, creating deep lines of stress just above the bridge of my
nose. I swallowed, pushing the increasing,
sickly saliva down my throat. The
destruction was far worse and much quicker than I imagined. My vantage was much better than it should have
been. It was obvious my master's plans
were being carried out swiftly. I
witnessed different people tossed from wave to wave, some of them clinging to
debris, some of them barely able to swim. Some of them were already giving in to their
fate and sinking below the surface--too tired to stay afloat any longer.
One woman was
holding her young child in the air begging for someone to save her baby. I recognized her—that evil woman. I
remembered how she tricked me into following her back to her home. She had frantically begged me to help her with
a sick relative, yet when I arrived she had prepared a room reeking with the
stench of lustful evil. Commanded by that evil, she had lured me for her
pleasure; but I ran. I ran to my master
and begged for his help. The lies that
woman claimed about me brought me undeserved shame and I struggled to find
compassion for her current situation.
Then I saw a man,
whom only a few weeks prior had hired a group of bandits to steal from my
project. By my master's orders, I worked
alone late that night and saw the evil men sneaking up to the corrals where I
stored my burden beasts. I woke my three
sons and we grabbed whatever weapons we could find. We raced down the hill towards the feeding
pens and prepared for battle. At least twelve men, armed also with weapons,
were hastily attaching harnesses to my beasts and leading them out of my
corral. Huddled behind one of the
buildings, my sons and I quickly discussed a plan of attack to save our animals
and ultimately the progress of my master's project. We were terribly outnumbered, but I said a
quick prayer as we leapt to our feet. With
weapons extended we rushed to close the distance between us and the mass of
men.
Out of nowhere a
hundred mounted soldiers from my master's kingdom drove the men into retreat as
they screamed for mercy. In the pale
moonlight, we watched as each man fell to the ground at the hand of my master's
soldiers. All but one man paid the price
of death for his evil actions that night. I listened as one of the soldiers spoke to the
man who had hired the bandits.
"You have
attempted to take from this noble man what is not yours," the soldier said
with great authority.
"You will pay with your life
for your actions today but for now it will be spared. You will be a witness to others like you who
refuse to submit to the master's decrees.
I will mark your face with the sign of our master's kingdom so that all
may know the fate of those who disregard his authority."
The man,
paralyzed with fear, could not move as the soldier drew his sword and carved
two lines on his forehead. Blood crept
from the first line that traveled straight up from the bridge of his nose. The soldier sliced the second line, crossing
the first, midway on his forehead. I knew
the sign very well.
Elevating his
voice, the soldier spoke a command, "Go. Leave this place and do not
return. Let the sign of our master be a
warning to all."
The soldier
raised his sword in my direction, blood dripping from its tip and said these final
words: "This man, and his work, is under the protection of our master. You, and those like you, who's every thought
is evil continually, will suffer the wrath of our master's judgment."
From my view high
above the watery chaos below, I now watched as that same evil man clung desperately
to a floating piece of debris. The mark
on the man's forehead was quite visible even from the distance of my safe
vantage point. Our eyes connected and I
staggered backwards. Great pity overcame
me and I anticipated the man would plead for my help. I knew there was nothing I could do to save
him. I stepped forward again to regain
my view of the struggling man, but instead of pleading for his life, the man
let go of the floating debris to raise two angry fists in the air cursing me
and my master.
Without
something to hold on to, the man succumbed to his death and sank below the
surface of the water. The last thing I
saw was the two converging lines on the man's forehead as he met his end.
Men were fighting
each other with sticks, knives, clubs and even some with their bare hands as
they scrambled for secure places atop the floating debris. Giant logs would hold ten to fifteen men at a
time, but no man could maintain his position for more than a few seconds. They were repeatedly being pulled back down
into the water by other men who struggled for positions. Several people sucked in water and released
the final air from their body. One man
beat another woman as she lifted her child up to a log. The beating was so severe that she lost her
grip on the child and it slipped below the surface of the water and did not
return. At the loss of her child, the
woman, losing her own will to live, raised her arms above her head and
purposely sank as she conceded the end of her life.
On one
particular uprooted tree, another man I recognized stood a great measure taller
than the rest of the community. He
managed to climb on top of the tree and maintain his position by dealing crushing
blows with his fists and his feet on the skulls of struggling victims. He was one of the men they called a
giant.
Other victims
were struggling to cling to the religious tokens of their various gods as they
prayed to no avail for their salvation.
The gold, bronze, and wooden figurines only served to restrict their
desperate movements to stay afloat. I
thought if they would just let go of those ridiculous gods they might have a
chance. But that had always been their
problem.
The saliva
returned to my mouth again and this time I turned my head from the violence and
vomited. How had everything gone so
wrong? How had my people, my community,
turned so wicked? The master had seen it
all. It now seemed so obvious why the
master was killing them. I wrinkled my upper
lip with a nasty snarl as I felt satisfied that they deserved their death.
My body convulsed and the final
contents of my stomach withdrew from my body.
I felt guilty. The evil acts of my own life flooded my
thoughts. How recently had I neglected
the needs of the other seven during the project...the outbursts of anger when
they would not match my fervent pace during construction...the frustration I
had with their mistakes and misunderstanding of my directions. Pride, selfishness, arrogance, I felt
worthless. I felt like I should be out
there struggling for my position on a floating log. I was no better than the ones below clambering
for survival. Sympathy, regret, love,
they all flooded my emotions. Tears
flooded my face as I sobbed for the pain of my mistakes, for the pain of their
mistakes. Without the grace of my master
overlooking my downfalls and weaknesses I would be on the other side of the
damning water.
Why had I been
spared? What made me better than those who were clinging to trees to find their
salvation? Or why was I any different
than the men and women clinging to the worthless treasures of their lives as
they slowly succumb to the exhaustion of futile struggle?
One by one, I watched the
struggling victims release their hold on their fake gods.
One by one, I watched as they
gave up hope in the man-made excuses of their life to continue to struggle for
survival. But every single one of them
eventually raised their fist in the air at the moment of their deaths and
cursed the gods for not saving them.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my
eye, I caught a glimpse of something colorful and familiar. I recognized the bright red hair of the one
man I had hoped not to see: my dear,
dear friend Judaish.
During the years of preparation, I
spent so many late hours into the night talking with him about the safety he
could enjoy in the master’s kingdom. He
came so close, so many times to joining me on the project. He was always so hung up on not letting go of
his success. He had a thriving supply
business and was quite wealthy in our town.
He helped so many people when
they needed a little extra during the lean times. His heart was so good compared to the
scandalous lives led by the others in our town.
But my master requires complete submission. To help me with my master’s project Judaish
had to give up everything he had built for himself. The commitment was just too costly for
him. I warned him. I pleaded with him to listen to me.
He said with a confident, almost
arrogant look on his face, “I cannot see the reward and it does not justify the
price.”
Something was different about the
man's face now though. It took me a
minute to place it. The self-confidence
in his own success was now replaced with sincere regret.
As soon as that thought entered
my head, he looked at me.
I froze.
I wanted to hide from his sight,
but my shock and the regret for this friend’s impending death caused me to
stand firm. His entire face was dripping
with the water falling from the sky. His
body barely floating high enough to see over the crashing waves of water. Despite being soaked with the judgment of my
master I could tell he was sobbing. When
he noticed me peering through the opening of the structure he raised his hands
above his head and clasped them together in a plea for me to save him. He was begging for me to give him the
security of the structure. He begged for
me to give him salvation. Something dark
was dripping from his hands. It was
blood. Gaping wounds, where flesh had
ripped away from the bones in his hands, were pouring out Judaish’s blood. The dark, ill-colored fluid gushed onto my
friend’s face from his hands held above as he kicked violently to stay afloat. With his battered hands held high, he
pleaded for me to save him.
I could not.
It was not within my power.
My heart broke and I sobbed with
the man.
I cried out with empathy,
“Master! He doesn’t deserve this. He is not like the others! He is a good man. He helped so many people.”
I fell to my knees, desperately
pleading for this man’s life.
“Please don’t let him die. I lost my father and then my grandfather to
this project, now this treasured friend?”
“Master, how many hours did I
appeal to you for the fate of this man?
Please, Master if there is something you can do for him, I beg you to do
it now!”
I leapt back to my feet searching
through the vulgar, sickening carnage of evil men and women, to find my friend
again. Hoping that my pleas to the
master might be heard and there might be grace enough for this man to be saved.
All I could see now was putrid water
mixed with floating trees, struggling animals, pieces of homes, wooden carvings
of man-made gods, floating bodies of death mixed with men and women beating
each other for something to carry their weight.
The instant I saw the bloody
hands slipping deeper into their watery death, I remembered the pounding sound
I heard as I climbed to the top of the structure. It was my friend who made that sound. How long had he been beating on the wooden structure? His hands were destroyed from his
efforts. My friend was dead. He was dead even before the waters began to
fall. It did not have to be.
In my anguish, and in the
deafening sound of the falling water from above, a still, comforting voice now
called my name, “Noah…Noah…my love.”
She gently placed her warm, soft
hand inside of mine and said, “There is nothing else you can do for them. You warned them, but they would not hear the
Master, Yahweh.”
We walked slowly back to the
wooden steps turning our back to the death of the past.
I softly spoke the words of my
mind, “We have much work to do.”
In her loving way, she spoke
words to remind me of our new purpose, “Noah, your words are true, but right
now your sons and their wives need you. I
need you.”
“Let us worship together our Master
who has rightly judged the evil of this world.”
Copyright © 2013 by K.C. Cochran
