Theodic Azrael

09103094

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i started writing something. i kind of stopped though since i showed it to my friend and she just basically went wtf. didn't think i should continue
is it that bad? it's not really catering to a normal novel, but something more like "The Master and Margarita".






Theodic Azrael

On that night, when dusk’s innocence, angelic leaves, alighted on those stones of the color of iron (1) , a lone shadow looked up to Auriga’s (2) twinkling spokes, away from Death below the wheelwright’s work. It was humid and cool, and it can be noted that few were awake; and a handful of these were cooling off their mortal wraps, but one could have never prophesied the tension approaching within his soul. For while skin and nerve can feel, instantly, the warmth of fire and the sweetness of lips, they are oblivious to the fingers of death. And by that, I do not mean agony’s coldness or cruelty’s embers, but the sorrow of the immaterial. “Oh,” they cry, as the shadow comes to wisp them from their shells and erase their names from his tome (3), “let us be, here, on Gaea (4). We will stop our hating of others, our complaining of life. Please, we beg, we beg, we beg…” But it is his God-given duty to continue on, unheeded by the soberest of cries, which would make even the cruelest of men weep and cry like the saddest of willows. The few were gathered around in a gazebo, drinking their hearts and minds out. They did not know, and could never have believed that in exactly a minute and a half one of them would depart from this three-dimensional plane. The dark-robed figure would wait until his duty called for him, for it is better to come earlier than later, as he learned along the Tura, in 1914 (5). The seconds passed, and the bottles clinked and depleted. “Hmm,” his thoughts rumbled, “who was the poor one tonight?” Reaching towards a large, dusty lexicon, which could challenge The Book of the Dead (6) to a battle of erosion, he passed by it and pulled out a rumpled notebook. He flipped the cover to the first-lined page, which had a single name: James.

(1) from dante's inferno; hell
(2) the charioteer constellation
(3) in some religions, people, at birth, are listed in a tome, and when they die, their names are erased
(4)earth; goddess of earth
(5) rasputin's death
(6) "magical" ancient egyptian tome

{1 edit}

(con..)

The shadow was not know for tearing and breaking down, inside, for he was not known as a lachrymose (1) one. However, as the minute and a half ticked slowly to 15, and then 14, following time's habitual abstractions, the shadow cried. Precisely, it was four long-hidden-held back-large-wet tears from his four visages (2). He would have poured out the Tigris and the Euphrates (3) had not time reminded him, that after 13 more beats of the sun, James could be living no more. His thoughts forgot their rumbling and awoke to insomnia. (4)
One: "How can this be?"
Two: "He is too young, he..."
Three: "...he, has a destiny."
Four: "He is worthy to live, and..."
Five: "...and, flourish..."
Six: "He must have made a mistake, or..."
Seven: "...or, He torments me!"
Eight: "Have you?"
Nine: "Have you!"
Ten: "You kill your messenger..."
Eleven: "..., oh, Divinity..."
Twelve: "...not with a sweet knife..."
Thirteen: "...but, with sad seconds."
With that last syllable, the figure closed his 4 pairs of eyes, rose his scythe which appeared in his hand, and touched it to the mortal, between his brows. Like a drop of water, a blueish-cyanish wisp emerged from the khafi. The boy began to convulse as his spirit began fumigating and twirling, around the scythe. "May Martius and Nathaniel judge you well, young one," the thoughts continued. Just then, James opened his eyes. His friends did not notice this, as this act was invisible to them; yet, the robed executioner saw them twitch and reflect, like glass, their vision (5): a pale figure with a sad face, in a bistre (6) habit, with a bladed staff, outstretched with two magnificent wings (7) which were whiter than the dove's, and on each feather there was a an eye without anima. "Father, Help?" asked the boy.

(1) teary
(2) archangels, unlike angels, sometimes have multiple faces
(3) rivers of ancient babylon
(4) sleeplessness
(5) this passage is a mention of the happening of death, in the koran/torah. if the person has been good "the soul comes out like a drop of water" at the point between the eyes- the "khafi". martius and nathaniel are the Anglosized names of the islamic archangels who interrogate the dead. it is believed in the islamic faith that the body will convulse and the person will see the either a demon or a "pleasant sight", depending on how "good" they've been
(6) a very-dark-sooty brown
(7) archangels have bigger wings than angels

(con..)

Two-thousand Four-hundred and fifty-eight years Before this Crisis, the shadow was a kohen gadol (1) of a destitute and peripatetic people, who were all sons of the Exiled, who had been exiled and beaten across the Tigris and Euphrates to the throne steps of the Great King, Artaxerxes I (2), ruler of hanging gardens and golden ziggurats. Their crime: Idolatry. Diaspora had over taken these people because of their weakness of their collective spirit. They were atheists and a minority in the polytheistic world, and this brought many, of the true faith, to succumb to the pressures, and they locked golden calves and clay women in their cupboards. The Babylonians came and punished them; it was God's act, and it was just. Placing his tzitz (3) on his graying hair, the kohen godol knew how to redeem the sons of the Exiled. But first, God would signal the young shadow. For now, he would polish his hoshen (4) and wash his grape-colored meil (5).

(1) high priest
(2) Babylonian king
(3) religious crown
(4) religious breastplate
(5) religious robe

(con..)

The message came in no silk letter, as some do crossing deserts and rocky mountains (1), but in a dream.
"Esdras," (2) came a commanding bronze voice, "open you eyes."
Like a soldier waking to the morning bugle, he obeyed. But when he awoke, he was not in the Great King's kingdom, and not in his bed. Surrounding him was white space; not to be confused with what lies beyond the clouds, where cosmic charioteers twinkle and fish splash; but where one could walk for years in any direction and find no stone or blade of grass.
"Where am I?" he thought.
"You are in Peace," replied the brass echo, which seemed to ring from inside. "You must take my people, and return them to the Promised Land. Each man must take two dozen sheep, their families. But no trinkets of gold, or rings of gold, or whatever of gold. Actually, rings, I'll allow rings. Since what if a couple have exchanged rings of gold to display their love, it wouldn't be fair to take that away from them. Love. Love, is an odd thing."
"Excuse me, sir," Esdras said, trying to find the crazed speaker, looking up to the white space where there was not one blemish, "but, (ahem), this may sound rude, but, who are you?"
And then, like a symphony of trombones, trumpets, french horns, and tubas, the voiced crescendo to a forte. "I? Me? My self? He is me. I am He. Get it now?" The last notes were staccato.
"Sorry, I believe I do not. Have we met before?" Esdras hoped he would wake up.
"Don't hope anything! I mean, hope is great. Just, right now, listen, and obey."
"Good sir, do you have a name?" He must be a mind-reader.
If instruments had a spirit of their own and could sigh, the voice's exhalation was a prime example of such an act. "I have many names. Much too many. In fact, I have forgotten a couple hundred or so. Oh, but wait! My two favorite are: Monas Monos, Monda (3) for short, catchy right? And Demiourgos (4). Do you happen to know Plato? If you do, you might have seen me once before?"
"Sorry, I do not know this name." He must be a snobby trombonist who had learned the lingo of the Hellenic States(5).
"What about Sidd Gaut? That's what I call him. He was Awake (6) most of his life and got to know lots, and lots of people."
"No, no..."
High priests have many chores and tasks to do, so it was not unusual that Esdras became fed up with his pointless dream. However, he was a polite gentleman, and would not do anything rash to upset his psyche.
"Sir He, you must know that I can not go around believing all my dreams. If I really must take the people back to the land you say, and ask them to bring two dozen sheep and their families, they will want to know why. We cannot keep moving from place to place. Who knows, if we keep it up, we might end on a large, desert island north of the end of the world (7)."
"You will. In fact you and your people will go to the aleph (8) corners of the world. Do you take math, by any chance?"
"I will really wake up unless you stop your equivocating."
Then, Esdras awoke, in his sheets, in the King's kingdom, to the sound of a cornetto (9) playing in the courtyard.

(con...)

(1) pony express
(2)Greek name for Ezra
(3)the totality of all beings: god
(4)greek for :creator deity
(5)greece
(6)bhudda; the awakened one
(7) australia
(8) infinite
(9) ancient brass instrument. was first used in the medieval era

arouse from the tree of lamentation
 

thewrongvine

The Evolved Panda Commandant
Reaction score
506
It seems interesting, but confusing. Didn't finish it yet, but it looks weird with all that stuff...

~Hai-Bye-Vine~
 

DogOfHavoc

Future Tragedy
Reaction score
55
There is some really good prose here. However, the dialogue is very weak and it seems like you overwrote in some places. By this I mean that you used large and archaic words, but then had to use footnotes to explain them. This shows that you were aware the words would be lost upon the reader, but used them regardless.

As I see it, you have some very interesting sentences and word usage. There are some beautiful sentences (as gay as that sounds, it's true) and there is some very well written poetic wording. But, there is not really a coherent story (as far as I could tell) and the dialogue is poor. Problems aside, you definitely have a knack for writing; you just need to make sure your readers can understand your stories.

Good luck in the future :thup:
 
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