God's Will-Prologue and chapter 1. My first story, a revenge story. please leave comments,

Prologue:

Subconscious Fabricated

   All that I can remember is the smell of the snow. As I was crawling out of the woods, the snow soaked through my clothes. I heard a familiar voice. “It’s over.” She said. “No more games, no more running, and no more her!” I remember smiling at her, almost as if her voice had become a voice of comfort, but as the heel of her boot smashed into my skull, all I could think of was dragging Emily through forest. Trying to get away. Remembering the way the bullet pierced my shoulder after exiting her forehead, remembering that it was this boot chasing us. I was pulling her as fast as I could, but it didn’t matter, I didn’t know how to outrun bullets. A sickening crunch penetrated my last little bit of consciousness as her heel smashed the bridge of my nose. It was the last sound I would ever hear as I drifted off, cold, numb, tired…but not scared. I was waiting, wanting…and smiling.  

  Now the question remains, where do we go? Do we have a choice, or is it written in the way we live our lives on earth? Does the afterlife assign you to here or there, or do you get to choose what to do for eternity? Can you come back for revenge? Or is revenge the true eternal hell? Wandering eternally for something that may not ever let you rest peacefully. Is the other side just a black abyss of nothingness that you can’t consciously recognize, until you are reborn?  However, for survival, we know that new life is the answer. New life is sin free, a fresh start, a chance to make mistakes and learn from them. Some call it reincarnation. But what if you are reborn for a different purpose, born of lightning and thunder, not with permission from the afterlife, but with orders from the highest power. To live a new life. One of revenge. God gives you the chance to right the wrong.

Chapter 1

Maid, Mother, Crone. 

 It’s what they tell me, however, I do seem to remember the contorted face I saw right before the old nun grabbed me and ran out of the church to protect me, clutching me with every fiber of her being. Maybe it was a memory, or something my subconscious fabricated after hearing all the stories from the old nun. I was born on a church floor, the old nun said that my soul had made it here before my body did, almost as if it was running from something, or after something. 

     My mother was brought in by a strange man, they all assumed was my father. He brought her in, laid her in front of the altar and prayed. When he was done, nobody heard footsteps or even the door closing. He had just vanished. The only sound left was thunder, the old nun said it was as if all the sound was pulled out of the world except for the rumbling. Everybody tried to go to my mother’s aid, but nobody could move. Everybody was frozen in time, except for my mother writhing on the floor in pain. Then lightning struck. One lightning bolt, that was all it took, one flash and the world was moving in real time again. Now they could hear her screams.

      As they all ran to her side, the old nun called for the doctor noticing a baby was on its way. When he arrived I was already outside the church with the nun, keeping me warm in her bony cradle she formed with her elderly arms. The doctor looked me over then ran inside to my mother’s aid. Just before he reached her, another flash of lightning and my mother had become a small pile of ash on the floor of the church. The old nun whispered into my newborn ear, “Don’t worry little thing, she is with god now, she’s home.” The old nun raised me after that, schooled me and taught me of god. It all seemed repetitive though, almost as if I already knew everything. “Learn them.” She would say, almost as if teaching me proper etiquette, pointing at me with that crooked finger repeating herself. “Learn the signs.”      

     The characteristic I remember most of the old nun when I was young was her crooked pointer finger. “The signs are everywhere you need to know them!” She would command with a gaspy voice. Then she would gaze lostily in my eyes as if she was searching for something, then turn and walk away while mumbling something about me and how I was supposed to “Fix Things”. As I got older, I just learned to pass it off as a sort of old person’s twitch. She cared for me, taught me, but she also showed me another emotion that I never picked up on until I was older. She was scared of me, or scared for me, I wasn’t quite sure. She was raising a boy that she knew carried evil, and was trying to guide him to the good, like trying to stop a runaway car from going off a cliff while watching it from a mile away.

     Not growing up with a family, I was at the church everyday watching other families come and go. I was never jealous though, I was happy for them, and when I smiled at them, they would smile back. Everybody knew that I was very comfortable there, not like the normal scared little orphan. The church was my home, and I was proud of that. I did hear rumors about who my parents were, and remarks about the “whore addict” who left a son on the floor of the church. For some reason, I knew all the rumors were false, so they didn’t bother me. I very much enjoyed living at the church, but not the lessons that came with it.

     The first lesson came when I was walking across the floor of the church staring at the wood grain finish, and as I was counting the old knot holes, the old pine floor started turning white. I stopped and blinked, trying to readjust my eyes, then I felt something on my shoulder. I looked to my right and saw a pine bough that had brushed up against me, I froze as snow fell down into my shirt collar. Looking around ever so slowly, my mind was struggling to decipher what had happened. Then I felt the cold settle in at my toes, when I looked down the old pine floor had turned to a snowy forest floor. The altar and pews of the church had all become a majestic pine forest. Then red, more red…blood everywhere. Taking a long look around in disbelief, I could see blond hair slowly bouncing through the trees, and a trail of fire following it. All in slow motion. The snow falling ever so slowly, and the fire wisping through the forest floor even slower.  

     So surreal, I wasn’t scared, but I did feel something. It was a feeling of hate and it burned hotter than the sun. I was staring so hard at the blond hair ghosting through the forest, straining to get a look at her face, but I couldn’t. “Do you see her?” I snapped out of my trance and spun around to see the old nun standing there, glaring at me so intently with those old grey steely eyes. I thought she was angry at me. She brushed the snow off my shoulder and it landed on the church floor. Everything had returned to normal. “What happened?” I managed to get out of my dry mouth. With a relaxing demeanor she replied, “A Memory.’  

     As the years went by, I learned of hell, in more ways than one. Very backwards from the conventional religious persons growing up. Whereas, most people are taught of heaven and the beauty of it, and just enough of hell to scare them straight. I was taught all about hell and along with the very basics of heaven. The old nun taught me so much about hell that I could draw a roadmap of it on the back of my hand. With full directions to brimstone and fire, along with the front gates and Lucifer’s master bedroom. Whenever I asked about heaven, the old nun would give a very curt short answer of “You already know these things. It is you that should be teaching me of heaven.” Then she’d give me the most comforting little smile that would make me forget what the question even was. When I hit my adolescent years, I of course had many more questions. I wanted to know who I was and why I’m living in a church. When I asked the old nun, she just told me “God sent you here to be safe, to start over and to prepare.” And so began lesson two.

     I remember playing in the backyard of the church, and surrounding the backyard was the tallest chain-link fence one had ever seen. Maybe it just seemed that tall because I was so young at the time, or maybe it was that tall just to help keep me safe. How many churches have chain-link fences surrounding them? I was kicking a soccer ball around the yard. I would kick it into the fence and try to kick it again on the rebound without letting it hit the ground. My record was eight times in a row. It was a good little game I could play by myself. I was really getting into the groove, I had the timing down just right. Using the sound of my foot hitting the ball and the sound of the ball rebounding off the fence helped me keep my rhythm.  “Thump…Ching…Thump…Ching…Thump…Ching…” Then the sound changed, it turned into a deafening “Whump” followed shortly by a high pitched “Zing”. I was in the forest again. 

     Watching as I was standing there, the first thing I noticed was the snow and how it smelled. Cold, fresh, and seemed so familiar. I recognized the whole movie playing out in front of me. I just didn’t know why. Running from my left to right was a man dragging a girl, the look on his face was one of absolute survival, for him and the girl skipping steps in order to keep up to him. “Whump!” I see a bright flash from behind them off to my left, as the bullet flew through the forest it caught a pine bow which sent it off in an errant direction. “Zing!” I watched the end of the pine bough cut by the bullet slowly float to the forest floor. I swear it was falling slower than the snowflakes dusting from the sky and covering the forest floor. When it landed, it didn’t even make the slightest puff in the snow.

    “Whunp!” This time I could see the bullet piercing through the trees towards the running couple. I could count the revolutions the bullet made as it went spinning by my eyes. “Zing!” It caught another branch and was sent hurdling to the sky. I was seeing things so clearly and slowly that I knew what was going to happen next, as if I had seen this movie before. I knew they would not escape a third shot. “Whump!” this time the bullets aim was true, it was sent spinning by the end of my nose, I could smell the burned gunpowder on the back of the slug as it passed by. Then I saw her head start to split open. Even though the bullet had struck her dead center in the back of the head, she split form the front to back. I watched her slump in the snow while he kept running. He had no grip anymore, the bullet had caught him in the shoulder after exiting her head. 

     I finally saw her, the Blond Huntress, sauntering through the forest. She had the coldest look of determination on her face, I was glad I was frozen in time. She was on a mission, and this mission had orders directly from hell. She wore a long leather trench coat, adorned with weapons. This was not the typical woman of your dreams. She was the woman of nightmares. Adorned in a mane of perfect blond hair that flowed behind her as she moved silently through the forest towards her quarry. On the ground behind her were flames left in the snow that I’m sure were her footprints. They would ignite as soon as her feet broke contact with the ground. Then she went by me. 

     As she passed in front of me she stalled. She inhaled a big breath of air as if smelling all as she took it in. Moving her head side to side scanning the forest, she finally pinpointed me and whipped her head around locking eyes with me. While she was staring into me, I could tell she knew that I wasn’t there, she knew I was watching from afar, as if through a crystal ball. Then she got a quizzical look on her face trying to figure out who I was. After a few seconds, which seemed like hours, she shrugged her shoulders, blew me a kiss and continued to her trophies.

     When she got to the couple, she touched the dead woman’s body and it started to slowly sink into the ground. As I looked closer, I noticed she wasn’t just sinking. There were hands coming out of the ground and pulling her under. I saw the dead girl’s soul trying to get away, shrieking, but there were too many hands and she disappeared into the snow. The blond Huntress turned to the man, she got down on one knee and whispered something in his ear. 

    The look on his face wasn’t something I was expecting. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t angry…he was smiling. She stood up and slammed a heel into his face. Killing him almost instantly. Just to make sure her quarry was finished, she drew one of her pistols and pointed it at her head. When she pulled the trigger, the whole forest froze and nothing came from the gun. There was a low rumbling that could be heard on the wind. Clearly upset she squeezed the trigger over and over but no shots rang out. With a quick flash of lightning, she was laying on the forest floor and the man was gone. I was gone. I knew now why I was born in a church and why I had these memories.

     “So now you know who you are yes?” The old nun was standing next to me, also gazing at the blond woman lying in the snow. “She took Emily, God took you.” Then it hit me, the flood of emotions that I carried from my past life into this one. I fell right to my knees in the snow. My heart ached so bad, I wanted to carve it form my chest with one of the blond woman’s knives that adorned her belt. I sobbed uncontrollably, the flood of emotions that I felt were slowly replaced by anger and vengeance. I wanted to kill her, and do it now, but alas I was frozen in place and not able to move. I turned to the old nun, “How do I find her?” I asked. She calmly took me by the hand and said, “That’s why god brought you here to us, so we can guide you.” “You have heaven on your side, along with all the knowledge of the past, but remember, she has hell on her side.”  

There was a reason I was taught of hell and not heaven, “know thy enemy.”