Shut In

      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