A Better Place

“Weak, I’m so weak. Everything is going dark…” He cried out, his voice lost among the cacophony of the crowd that gathered to watch his final moments.

He heard his mother crying; someone was reaching for him, and then…

Nothing.

The darkness had him; he was lost again. He floated for a time, in the darkness, in the nothing. Between. The cries pulled him from the void; it was always the crying that caught his attention first. It pulled at him and drew him out of the nothing into the light.

He could feel the stone below him. Blood pooled under his hands, the wounds on his wrists leaking. They never healed; he never allowed them to heal. They were his, as much as the pain, as much as anything was ever his. His wounds, his pain, his sorrow, and his sacrifice.

He stood, looking down into the throng of bodies writhing around him.

The voices cried out to him for something he would never be able to give. He reached for them, and they reached back, but he pulled away in horror.

A face leered up at him from the crowd, thick and heavy. Its chin bloated, and something oozed out from between its lips. The face wore a collar, one he’d seen many times but still couldn’t understand. Black, with white in the center. The figure lumbered forward, fat on the blood, heavy and gorged from the writhing mass within the pit. Its white collar was stained red, its black shirt wet and glistening.

It heaved itself onto the rocks and tossed a small figure at Joshua’s feet.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The bloated figure said.

Joshua reached for the child, something breaking inside of him, but the thing caught his arm, squeezing. He cried out, trying to pull away, but it had him. Its thick fingers dug into his flesh. He looked up, fury burning in his chest. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Forgive me, Father, I have sinned.” The thing said, “But it’s not my fault; no, it’s his. He made me do it. I’m sorry. I am weak, Father.”

Joshua twisted his arm, wrenching it free. He turned his back on the thing as pudgy fingers dug into his shoulder. It pushed, forcing him down to one knee as he struggled. In front of him, more things began to drag themselves up onto the rocks.

Something that might have once been a woman approached, her eyes wild and mad as she stared down at the kneeling man. Then, she grinned at him.

“Father, thank you.” She said. “We must save them; we must save them all from themselves!” She cried, lifting something like a strange spear over her head. She waved the weapon before pointing its blunted tip at him. “Thank you for your blessings, Father.” She said, rubbing the strange weapon against his face.

She stepped aside as another figure approached, carrying a wet, dripping mass of writhing forms in its arms. The thing, which seemed to be a man, knelt in front of Joshua. It leaned forward, opening its arms and spreading the mass upon the floor. The things, a red and pink mass of screaming, writhing forms, cried out wordlessly.

The man grinned at Joshua. “We have saved the children father. As you have commanded.” He cackled, his face twisting into a mask of tortured, painful laughter. “In your name!” He howled. “All in your name!”

Joshua struggled, trying to pull away, but the thick fingers continued to dig into his shoulder and press him down. He could feel the thing behind him, feel its breath, heavy and hot on his neck. He shuddered, nauseated, and dizzy. What was happening? What were these things?

What was all of this? Every time, it only seemed to get worse.

He cried out, but his words were lost in the roar of the things around him. A shadow fell over him then, and everything went silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you something…” The shadow said, and it lumbered forward. It pushed past the other creatures, staring down at Joshua. Its sunken eyes seemed to burn an orange fire. “The power here is tremendous. It’s huge, and it’s only getting bigger!” The shadow cried.

It turned and faced the crowd, holding its hands wide above its head, “And who is at the center of this power? He is!” He waved an arm towards Joshua, who struggled against the thing holding him to the floor.

“He’s the one who started it all, and he’s the one who will keep it going strong!” The thing gesticulated wildly at his audience. The things around him howled and screamed; there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The shadow continued, unabated, “I mean, look at the impact he’s had on this world! And his message is still going strong! He’s the greatest influencer in history, folks. No one can deny that. He’s influenced billions of people, and his message is still relevant today!”

Joshua sagged, his strength giving out. He was just so tired.

“And let me tell you, I know a thing or two about influence. It’s all about building a brand, and he has the best brand out there!” He’s a winner, folks, he’s a winner!” The shadow howled.

Above him, a dim light glowed in the distance. There, far away, in the darkness, Joshua saw it and felt it calling to him. He looked around at all of the things, the creatures. They cried and howled for him. They crawled forward, reaching for him.

It was the cries. It was always the crying that called to him first.

“But it’s not just about his influence!” The shadow called out. “It’s about his message. It’s a powerful message and something we need more of in this world!”

Joshua looked up again and felt himself slipping away. He knew he was supposed to wake up but was so tired. He could feel it happening again. He could feel himself falling.

“So let’s give it up for him, folks! They’re making the world a better place!” The shadow screamed. Around him, in the pit, the things cheered.

As he was slipping away, the thing holding him down breathed in his ear, “You’re so pretty; I don’t think I can help myself. But you’ll forgive me, right?”

Joshua choked awake, crying out as something tore into his scalp.

The men gathered around him were laughing. The one who had forced the sharp ring of thorns onto his head grinned.

“Behold!” he said, “The king!”

“But a king must have his finery!” Shouted another, who leaped from a small table and pulled a drapery off the wall. He laid the fabric over Joshua’s shoulders, “There,” he said, “that’s better.”

The men stood before him, and together, they bowed. Then, again, Joshua faded into the darkness of unconsciousness.

When he came to, they were dragging him onto a small platform. A man stood before him, his expression hard, but Joshua saw something else in his eyes. He felt pity for the man. The man regarded him for several long moments, then turned to face the crowd. The words were a nauseating mixture of sound and chaos. Joshua nearly lost himself to the darkness again when the man addressed him.

“Are you their king?” The man asked, gesturing towards the crowd.

“You say that I am,” Joshua whispered.

The man stared at him, his eyes glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. He stepped forward, leaning in close enough that Joshua could feel his breath on his face. It reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. Something far away, something horrible. “Give me something here.” The man said. “Give me something to work with. They want to condemn you. Help me!” He pleaded.

Joshua heard the words, but they meant nothing. They were just noise. He tried to speak but choked on his own voice. Then, with a sigh, he lapsed into silence.

The man shook his head, resigned to the fate they now shared.

Pain followed in a blur of screams, many of which were his own. Something was hoisted onto his back, and he stumbled forward. The crowd jeered at him, screaming insults. Joshua stumbled, blood dripping down his face and into his eyes. He was just so tired. What was he doing this for, he knew, but somehow, he couldn’t remember anymore.

The weight was taken from him, and for a while, he simply stumbled forward.

He fell again, and someone rolled him onto his back. There was more pain then, this time in his wrists, and then, he was floating. He looked down at the people and wept for them. They were all so broken, so lost. He’d just wanted to give them something, to lift them from the nightmare of their lives. But all of it was gone now.

It was all a waste. But, dimly, he realized it was always a waste. It was always like this; they could never see him for what he was or hear him for what he said. He shuddered under the weight of it all. The screams drifted up from below and washed over him.

“Forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.” He said.

A single voice floated up to him from below, and he looked down to see his mother there. She looked up at him with love in her eyes, but he recognized something else there, too: fear. She was afraid for him, but more, she was afraid for herself. Beside her stood his friend, one of the few who, maybe, saw him for what he was. Who knew him for the man he wanted to be and knew his words for what they were meant to say.

He smiled down at them, “Mother, see your son.” He said. “Brother, see your mother.”

When the darkness fell, Joshua didn’t know if it was inside him or if the whole world had fallen into the void. Then, he felt something break, and the earth shuddered with him.

“Weak, I’m so weak. Everything is going dark…” he cried out as the pain tore through him again. Voices carried up to him, but he didn’t hear; something wet pressed to his face, but he ignored it. Joshua cried out again and fell into the darkness.

He heard his mother crying, and then, nothing.

Joshua floated for a time in the darkness, and then, the cries called out to him again. It was always the cries that called to him first. He turned towards the wails of those calling out for him, calling what they thought was his name, when a small voice whispered to him.

“They don’t know you; they never did. They never do. It’s time to wake up.”

He turned in the darkness but found himself alone. Behind him, the voices called out to him, calling him back. But there, in the distance, was that small light. There, in that light, was the voice.

“It’s time to wake up, Joshua. It’s time to wake up.”

Joshua turned away, peering into the darkness, towards the red light, towards the wails and the screams. Something soft touched his shoulder, and he stopped. He waited, listening.

“It’s time to wake up.”

With a sigh, he turned away from the screams, away from the voices calling out for him to save them, away from the weight of it all. He turned and walked towards the small light.

When he woke up, he looked down on it all, and before him, he saw a reflection of himself. In that reflection, he saw so many faces, so many lives. He saw children smiling and people sitting around a table. He saw faces that he didn’t know but knew were his own.

He sat under a tree, waiting.

He knelt as oil was poured over his head.

He stood tall, skin so pale it was almost blue as he rode a chariot into battle.

He stood on the shore and struck the river with his staff.

So many lives, all connected by a thread, all happening simultaneously. He saw himself laid bare as he brought to the people something they never seemed to understand. He stood before them, telling them to wake up from the dream of this life. But they never could grasp the story, and it was that, he knew, that was the point.

The story must continue because it was the story of life, and it was, after all, his story. There was only the one story and the one dream. There was only the one dreamer, and all of the lives were his.

Joshua watched it all play out before him, stretching on forever yet happening all at once in the blink of an eye. His story, the story of life, all the people, all of it, was him. Finally, he woke from the dream to regard it for what it was and stood in awe of its beauty. He laughed, and he cried, and he watched as, over and over, the dream folded into a nightmare.

Because that, too, was the point of the dream. There could be no light without darkness, and there can be no joy without sorrow. So Joshua smiled, and he wept, and he watched.

And in time, he knew what he had to do. With a sigh, Joshua let himself fall back into the darkness of sleep and waited for the light of the dream to wake him once again.