Page Title

Beyond The Valley of Death

I sat quietly exhausted beneath the great tree,

I heard a

rattling from among its branches. It was

the sacred serpent,

moistening the trunk's bark,

slithering around the tree's branches

above where I

sat.

Greetings," said the serpent, "and welcome to

the shade and

shelter of the great tree." The voice

was stern and strong like the

voice of Father, yet

gentle and tender like the voice of Mother.

"What do you want of me?" I asked the serpent.

Terror gripped

me motionless. I feared both its

strength and its tenderness.

"It is you," said the serpent, "who has found

yourself here with

us. What do you want of us?"

"Eternal Life," my voice cracked, tremored, "is

my goal, yet not

beyond this body and life of mine,

but while the blood still flows

about my flesh and

bones."

"You have a noble desire but it shall cost," said

the serpent,

"nothing short of your body and life

here. You must sacrifice all if

we are to deem you

suitable. Are you able and willing to make this

ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate reward?"

"Am I worthy?" I asked, thinking I was, feeling

I wasn't.

"Yes," replied the serpent, "you are worthy.

The call of the Way

whispers in the wind, glistens in

the tossing of waves. All hear and

see it each day

but few have the courage to step out of their

comfortable thoughts of what truth and glory are

and begin the

painful humble journey to here. The

beginning is the arrival, really.

Of those who begin the journey, few stay with it

for long. Back

there, that valley of shadows you

passed through for 7 days, that is

the valley of the

damned who could not bear the horror of

experiencing the pain of everyone else before them

who has fled

from the valley in doubt. We call them

“walkers,” for they flee back

out of the valley

before the moans of the sufferings of the living dead

have brought them to their knees as you were for

the last 6 days of

the passage. At the moment that

the walkers turn and run, the sound

of their terror

joins that of previous failures echoing endlessly in

the

valley.

Yes, they are truly the damned for the terror

never leaves them.

They simply go back to the

comfort of the illusion of what life was

and each

day as the wind whispers to them and the waves

glisten

before them, they shut their ears, close their

eyes. They pretend there

was no valley, that they

had never been there, never heard of the

place,

never responded to the call. Yet deep inside, the

terror is their

master. They flee from the terror into

desire. Desire is also their

master. They are slaves of

the worst kind and woe to him who tells

them of

their slavery.

But you left no scream of terror, no moaning

agony in the valley;

you remained faithful that you

would be delivered from the

hardship. Here you are.

Your hands and knees are bloody from their

burden; your hair is full of dust, your mouth is

parched, your empty

stomach groans. Yes, with you

we are well pleased; you are worthy.

Now your body must be prepared. Then you will

return to those who

still live in the valley and led

them here to us. Nothing else in your

life matters

now. Through this, Eternal Life."

"Then what must I do now?"

The serpent slithered itself down the tree and

coiled itself beside

me and looked at me. Its eyes

were pure white with emerald green

square pupils.

Its skin was black, silk-like, shining mysterious,

with

deep brown speckles. A shimmering silver

thread ran from it rattler

tail along its whole length

and up over its head, the silver thread

dividing on

its forehead and extending to the very edge of each

of its

piercing eyes towering over me.

I began to panic and jumped to my feet to run

from them.

"Wait," said the serpent, "childlike and simple

in its appeal,

"don't go, they won't hurt you. They

prepared me also. You won't

feel a thing. It is too

late to turn back now. You have passed out of

the

valley. You can no longer turn back. We can not let

you. We

need your service for the valley has become

too loud and confused.

They need your help. We

can not go into the valley for they are not

of our

kind. It must be one of their own." And I began to

feel sleepy,

needing rest as I had felt as a baby from

just drinking of my

mother's breast who was full

and content with Mother holding me so

very close,

my heavy head near the comforting throbbing of

her

heart, that which I'd missed for so much since

she'd cast me out of

her precious womb, the womb

of woman. I lowered to the ground

and fell into

deep undisturbed sleep.

And they came and they prepared me. While

they prepared me,

in my sleep, my eyes opened

inward and there was darkness and my

ears opened

inward and there was silence. I was still and I knew,

knew time before time, space before space, world

before world,

creation before creation as it was

meant to be. I was awakened.

Awakened, I heard the screams echoing about in

the valley, a

grand symphony of pain. How loudly

they screamed shaking the

very stars in the sky,

calling out to heaven to be rescued from the

burning building, the sinking ship. I could see the

smoke rising up

out of the valley from their

burning. I could smell the burning flesh.

I began the

long crawl to the valley. A fresh ache tore at the

bottom

of my heart. The partially healed wounds on

my hands and knees

were opened by the rocky soil.

Tears flowed down my cheeks and

onto the ground

I crawled over. I was afraid I would not be able to

help them.

Back to Prose Index