The arena turned black, and the titantron came to life. The sight was on a desolate plateau outside the country, dark and dead and settled into a wasteland. The dirt was arid and cracked, the earth's crust having forgotten the touch of water long ago. The sun was setting slowly over the horizon, and when it finally disappeared, smoke started to seep out of the cracks in the earth. A cut of the angle, low to the ground, as a boot scraped against the dirt, barely able to keep up the act of walking. The man was topless, wearing loosely fit and cut up jeans, holding his abdomen tightly, which was bandaged up tightly with medical gauze. The man fell down face first into the dirt, covered up by the smoke that eerily emanated from the stones all around him.
"Weak. Desparate. Blind. A man walks alone. No family. No friends. No health. Time is running out. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man starts to cry, wiping his silver hair out of his face. His gorgeous blue eyes are watered up by his tears, rolling down his cheeks. He hunches over. His ribs are broken, he knows it because he can feel them pressing against his lungs. Every breath is a chore. His body tortures itself as he grinds his knees into the dirt, dying and living at the same time. One hand wrapped around his own torso, the other gripping dirt so callous that it almost hurts his hand more than his ribs hurt his chest.
"Walked for days. His feet are bleeding. His mind is shot. He cries forever. His vision has led him to an unforgiving place. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man is scarred all over his body, and all of the scars are hold, they are history told on the tapestry of skin that he wears. Kneeling there in the sand, his tears are the first drop of water that ground has seen in months. How long had he been walking since he'd stumbled out of that hospital bed? And here he was, in the middle of no where, starving, dehydrated, and dying. With nothing to show for it. He'd never doubted himself his whole life, but now...
"Followed visions to his doom. Visions of his salvation. But the rocks are death's salvation. The dirt is the vision of the grave. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He thought he'd just lay here, call it a day. Call it a life. Curl up in the sand and give it all away. Let the warm feeling of sleep overtake him forever. He wept again, gritting his teeth in pain. The man tried to think of all the people in his life that he would miss, or who would miss him. All the things he'd left undone and unsaid. To die out here in this wasteland, because he was drunk on pain, dreaming of a different life, one not his own... And that's when a cone of light came down from the sky. The moon shone down on the sand below, meters in the distance from the place where he had decided to die. He drug himself forward tentatively, testing his body, seeing if he even had a chance of making it. The pain was overwhelming...
"The light of heaven, or the call of hell. A man ready to die alone. The long crawl. A crawl to the end of his life. He will not leave these flats again. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He struggled, pulling himself along the dirt, kicking up dust to join the smoke. The man knows that he can't get that far on his stomach. He'll have to make a last stand, in the most literal sense a man ever has. The man wipes the gray hair out of his eyes, but it is weighted back down against his face by the dirt he has been pressing his face into. Staggering up to his knees first, he is slow to put his heels to the ground and force himself up to stand. He stands there, looking down the field of death to the cone of light, wanting only to see what he had come to see. That's all he needed. Just to last that long. Please let him live that long. Limply, with no strength in his legs, he staggered and marched, just trying to go the distance.
"He just wants to see. To know what he died for. To see the end of the world, as was shown to him in his dreams. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He marched, with purpose and desire. His body cried out, ready to break forever, to set down and be nothing for the rest of his days. Hours. Minutes. He marched, knowing that it was all over for him, but at least he would know why. He would know where. He would know that he died with purpose when his body finally gave up. It was that drive that brought him all the way to the light. And instead of a stairway to heaven, he found a cavern in the ground. He looked down, knowing that if he went down, he would never come back out. And so he slid down anyway. The trail down beneath the earth was long, and rough. His ribs wracked his body with intense pain. When he landed, his feet couldn't hold it, and he toppled forward, rolling in the dirt, down hill, into darkness. When he finally stopped, he opened his blue eyes and looked upon his dreams come to life.
"So far from home. So far removed. An inch left on the thread of his life. Everything he ever thought he wanted out of reach. Everything he ever dreamed of being within. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man wiped the tears off his face, most of which had dried on his skin anyway. He crawled, his fingers dirty, his nails scratched against rock. He crawled, knowing the last thing he'd ever do in this mortal world would be getting closer to this thing. The moonlight came in through the cave, reflecting off of mirrors inside, shining brightly on a statue. Skeleton wings came off it in the light, it seemed to glow bright and ooze darkness at the same time. THe closer he got to the statue, the more it seemed to glow. The closer he got, it felt like it reached out to him. It was reaching out to him. He smiled, knowing that his visions had been true. He reached out, trying to grab the hand of the raven man... and as he touched it, darkness came over him. And he was gone. The titantron screen finally went black, dead, done. But the voice continued.
"A man who wanted everything. A man forgotten. A man no more. Let me tell you the God is going to cut. You. Down."
"Weak. Desparate. Blind. A man walks alone. No family. No friends. No health. Time is running out. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man starts to cry, wiping his silver hair out of his face. His gorgeous blue eyes are watered up by his tears, rolling down his cheeks. He hunches over. His ribs are broken, he knows it because he can feel them pressing against his lungs. Every breath is a chore. His body tortures itself as he grinds his knees into the dirt, dying and living at the same time. One hand wrapped around his own torso, the other gripping dirt so callous that it almost hurts his hand more than his ribs hurt his chest.
"Walked for days. His feet are bleeding. His mind is shot. He cries forever. His vision has led him to an unforgiving place. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man is scarred all over his body, and all of the scars are hold, they are history told on the tapestry of skin that he wears. Kneeling there in the sand, his tears are the first drop of water that ground has seen in months. How long had he been walking since he'd stumbled out of that hospital bed? And here he was, in the middle of no where, starving, dehydrated, and dying. With nothing to show for it. He'd never doubted himself his whole life, but now...
"Followed visions to his doom. Visions of his salvation. But the rocks are death's salvation. The dirt is the vision of the grave. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He thought he'd just lay here, call it a day. Call it a life. Curl up in the sand and give it all away. Let the warm feeling of sleep overtake him forever. He wept again, gritting his teeth in pain. The man tried to think of all the people in his life that he would miss, or who would miss him. All the things he'd left undone and unsaid. To die out here in this wasteland, because he was drunk on pain, dreaming of a different life, one not his own... And that's when a cone of light came down from the sky. The moon shone down on the sand below, meters in the distance from the place where he had decided to die. He drug himself forward tentatively, testing his body, seeing if he even had a chance of making it. The pain was overwhelming...
"The light of heaven, or the call of hell. A man ready to die alone. The long crawl. A crawl to the end of his life. He will not leave these flats again. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He struggled, pulling himself along the dirt, kicking up dust to join the smoke. The man knows that he can't get that far on his stomach. He'll have to make a last stand, in the most literal sense a man ever has. The man wipes the gray hair out of his eyes, but it is weighted back down against his face by the dirt he has been pressing his face into. Staggering up to his knees first, he is slow to put his heels to the ground and force himself up to stand. He stands there, looking down the field of death to the cone of light, wanting only to see what he had come to see. That's all he needed. Just to last that long. Please let him live that long. Limply, with no strength in his legs, he staggered and marched, just trying to go the distance.
"He just wants to see. To know what he died for. To see the end of the world, as was shown to him in his dreams. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
He marched, with purpose and desire. His body cried out, ready to break forever, to set down and be nothing for the rest of his days. Hours. Minutes. He marched, knowing that it was all over for him, but at least he would know why. He would know where. He would know that he died with purpose when his body finally gave up. It was that drive that brought him all the way to the light. And instead of a stairway to heaven, he found a cavern in the ground. He looked down, knowing that if he went down, he would never come back out. And so he slid down anyway. The trail down beneath the earth was long, and rough. His ribs wracked his body with intense pain. When he landed, his feet couldn't hold it, and he toppled forward, rolling in the dirt, down hill, into darkness. When he finally stopped, he opened his blue eyes and looked upon his dreams come to life.
"So far from home. So far removed. An inch left on the thread of his life. Everything he ever thought he wanted out of reach. Everything he ever dreamed of being within. Let me tell you the God is going to cut him down."
The man wiped the tears off his face, most of which had dried on his skin anyway. He crawled, his fingers dirty, his nails scratched against rock. He crawled, knowing the last thing he'd ever do in this mortal world would be getting closer to this thing. The moonlight came in through the cave, reflecting off of mirrors inside, shining brightly on a statue. Skeleton wings came off it in the light, it seemed to glow bright and ooze darkness at the same time. THe closer he got to the statue, the more it seemed to glow. The closer he got, it felt like it reached out to him. It was reaching out to him. He smiled, knowing that his visions had been true. He reached out, trying to grab the hand of the raven man... and as he touched it, darkness came over him. And he was gone. The titantron screen finally went black, dead, done. But the voice continued.
"A man who wanted everything. A man forgotten. A man no more. Let me tell you the God is going to cut. You. Down."
You May Run. For A Long Time.