Aquinas

Blessed be the Forsaken

    His senses were alive in a fireball of pain. Burning… dazzling… a starburst of colours and sounds. The heat residue licked its parched lips on his back as the golden man took him under his protection. Oh bliss… to be graced by His touch, oh blessed be him to have the attention of the golden man. The angelic guardian dragged him to where the hungry blaze could no longer chew at his flesh and set him down on the cold stone ground. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but all he cared was that he was chosen. He was chosen by the golden man to lie on hard cobbles in the dead of night, saved from the fire that burned his home so, so, so brightly. His flesh was bared to the midnight air and his sinews were charred but he was so full of bliss. Florence was on her knees in praise to the golden man for his mercy and she sang a sweet song of suffering underneath the raging hearth of his porch, heavenly flames taking her to His grace. She writhed like a brutalised animal but he knew she knew she deserved it. Only a fool could forsake His punishment.
    The others gathered in a solemn circle about him, lines of happy faces to see the burned man pulled alive from the flames by the merciful golden man. Some prayed, some wept, some were so full of joy they tried to embrace the burned man, but the golden man shook them off each time, reminding each in turn that their place was not to interfere. Sweet music filled his ears, a magnificent ringing drone as his cooked ear drum split to make such sweet, sweet, sweet music. And he found solace at knowing how it all ended.
    The golden man stood above him in his gilded plate and began the ritual he yearned to hear, embracing the finality of judgement. Through one dreamy ear he could hear the ultimatum swim in and out of focus.
    ‘You have committed one minor violation…’
    Stars above danced and dived in celebration and sensation flared in the raw meat of his back. The world was lit by His joy and it was good.
    ‘…and one major violation…’
    He rolled onto his side to watch the faces of the crowd. They stared in awe of the golden man and longingly at him. If only, they thought, if only my judgement was as divine. He wanted to touch them, to tell them they could join him in his bliss, but it was not his place to decide.
    ‘…By the guidance of Aquinas…’
    The building burned so brightly that it was like a beautiful picture. Fate had decreed that he should upset the burning log to make fine art this night, and it was the most beautiful thing he had seen. It was such a shame Florence had to face the fire and not share his promised end. She must have envied him.
    ‘…I sentence him to die.’
    He saw the shadow the moment before it dropped, the inevitability of it sweet. The arms were raised above him and the people went silent, sharing a collective smile at his new found peace. This was bliss, and it felt-
    And then the spear plunged down, into his head. And it was a mess.