Trail of Forgiveness

The Trail of Forgiveness

A man named Stellon wandered the barren wasteland. He had been traveling with some camel traders a while back, when a dust storm hit and he was thrown off the camel. In an instant of confusion and chaos, the traders fled with their camels leaving Stellon lost in the desert, with only his half-empty canteen which contained hot, vile water that would burn his tongue rather than refresh his body, and a hard, burdensome walking stick that was extremely uncomfortable in the heat, as it would slip out of his hands and rub up against his body each time he would walk. He could feel his sweating armpits trying to push away the walking stick, as if the stick was trying to take his very arm away. In the deserts of Africa, there wasn't much he could rely on, being a foreigner from America. He had heard of cruel robbers and ambitious thugs in the desert and feared them greatly. It didn't improve matters that he was dying of a disease that was so farfetched that even the greatest and most magnificent doctors (or even scholars, for that matter) couldn't figure out what it was. He had specifically come to Africa to find a cure, and if not that, at least something he could hold onto as he passed on to the next life, an experience that he would remember for all eternity, possibly the meaning of life.

In the distance, there appeared to be something huge, like a stone wall, as tall as the walls of China. He couldn't exactly make it out, but being as hungry and tired as he was, he really didn't give a damn. He hobbled as fast as his cane would allow him to, his bones rushing to keep up with his skin. It seemed as if he had been running against time for years and time was still winning and he felt like he was Adam about to return to the loving Earth, as God had prescribed in the beginning. Stellon felt death getting nearer and nearer to the depths of his heart, but with the remaining strength he had, he persisted on carrying on to the cathedral. He reached the doorway with newfound energy. He opened the crusty, crude door and instantly a feeling of shame overcame him, as though he was entering a court room to face his own trial. A prisoner of his own ambition, he walked further and further through the desolate, yet pure insides of the innocent cathedral of judgment. He felt the presence of something; he didn't exactly know what, but something. His feet directed him to the main room of the church. There was something so cleansing about this room, like being baptized by the prophet John. Stellon closed his eyes as if he could sense the holiness of the air run through him. The melancholy, inexplicable feeling of water, yet the presence still resided in the midst of it all. Suddenly, a voice started talking in Latin deep within Stellon's head. Hearing it, he ran around frantically, searching for something, but not knowing it was he was searching for. Then, feeling his them tremble, he fell to his knees, his hands mashed together in a feeble position, and looked to the heavens. A voice in his head recited the Latin words more and more rapidly and he was inarticulate for a time. Then another voice said "It is done my son", and everything went away.

When Stellon woke up he was outside again and the cathedral had gone. He got to his feet expecting the usual pain and was shocked to find that it was gone. He got the cane, but was even more profound that it was completely useless. "Thank you", he said and pressed on, with only one feeling left, the will to survive.

Stellon continued on to a town with such beauty that it made him want to cry. The folks in this town appeared to be coal miners, judging from the dust and grime in the air and the ever-present appearance of tools. This town had a governor and a sheriff and it resembled a town from one of the many westerns Stellon had seen, during his lifetime. Even though the pain was gone, Stellon still felt the pang of fatigue come upon him like a tide that washes upon a beach. Hungry and tired he resolved to try and find a place to rest. He wandered the town, a lamb lost to his shepherd. Then a voice asked, "Are you looking for a place to stay?"

Stellon turned around to find that the vast desert town was replaced by an incredibly beautiful maiden. Her black and silk hair hung down to the small of her back and made Stellon think of the most comfortable satin sheets. Her voice resounded in his ears like the sweet sound of a violin. Her gentle blue eyes reminded Stellon of the ocean's soft waves and they were full of joy and youth, as though they were stars of the universe. Her body was curvy and so proportional to her face that it almost made Stellon have carnal thoughts about her. He marveled at the way she looked as if God had worked his magic yet again by sending this angel of beauty down from heaven. She took all of the words out from his mouth until all he was left with was "Y-yes ma'am."

"Why don't you come over to my house? The next inn is quite a ways away and I do believe you must be tired."

"Boy is she right", he thought. He followed the young woman into her beautiful house. His wife had died a few years ago and he couldn't bear the loneliness that was eating away at his body like the maggots that eat the flesh of a corpse. This woman reminded him of his wife's warmth and care so much, that after a day of getting to know her, he fell desperately in love with her. He knew it was wrong, he knew that he was old enough to be her grandfather, but he didn't care for his age, after all, it is nothing but a number of how far he was from an unknown end that he could never predict anyway.

Stellon kept this love inside him, until one day, when he saw her heavenly form enter the room. The beauty he saw prompted him to say those words he had been holding back for so long. "Um… Ms. I have a confession to make. I must admit that I have fallen in love with your very being. Everything about you takes my breath away. I realize how wrong I am, but I just can't help my feelings for you."

The woman waited a minute to speak and said, "I know how you feel and I have strong feelings for you too. However, my heart belongs to another. He is at war, presently. I am waiting for his return", she said removing a scrapbook from the nearby cupboard and showing him a picture of the man she was in love with. The picture reminded him of his past so much that he began to feel the tears escape from his eyes. "I am so sorry to deny your love because truthfully, you remind me of him. Same eyes, same look. If there is anything else I can do for you, I would be happy to…" she paused not knowing what else to say.

Stellon closed his eyes and bowed his head not wanting the woman to see his tears and asked, "I am Stellon Richards. May I ask what your name is?"

"Rosemary Rachel."

"What a pretty name", Stellon said, smiling "It reminds me of my dear Rose". Stellon paused for a minute to compose himself. "Well… Ms. Rachel thanks for the accommodations, but I'm afraid I must be on my way," Stellon said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes".

"Wait a minute… it's harsh out there you'll need food and water and clothes, too", Rosemary said rushing throughout the house. When she had packed everything, she handed it to Stellon.

"I will never forget you, Ms. Rosemary Rachel".

"Neither will I, Mr. Stellon Richards".

They embraced as Rosemary kissed Stellon on the cheek.

Stellon decided to continue his journey in hopes of finding a meaning to this newfound existence. He wandered the desert for a time until he met a few bandits.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am nothing but a traveler. I mean you no harm."

"You got quite a big load there, what chu packin' old man"

"Tools".

"I've had enough. Tell us or were gonna…"

"Hey wait, this old dude has some spunk," said the man who appeared to be the leader.

"How would you like to hang with us, old timer?"

"Sorry, but I have to find a way back to Liberia. Do you by chance know of any way to get there?"

"I can't help you with that, but I can help another way and that's with the choice your about to make"

"What choice"?

"The choice is either you join my band of misfits or you give us your crap and get the hell outta here."

"May I pass please"?

"You must be deaf old timer! What's your answer! Will you join us or not?!"

"No thank you, gentlemen, I have no desire to join your band of desert thieves."

"Okay fellas, you heard the man. Lets teach him what happens to people who refuse to do what we say."

The bandits moved in and Stellon, too drained and tired to resist, took a bad beating by the bandits. They stole the food, water and clothes Rosemary had given him and the leader spat on him.

"Welcome to the dessert, fool," he shouted as they ran away.

After a day of recovering, Stellon miraculously got up without so much as a bruise on his body. Still determined to get back, Stellon continued the endless journey. His muscles aching, it wasn't very long until he came upon yet another cathedral. When he gazed at the cathedral all thoughts of getting back escaped the depths of his thinking, like a fugitive running from the law. He entered the second cathedral and was surprised to be met by a voice. "Son, my son, you have traveled for so long through the hardships of the desert. When I first laid hands on you, my son, I felt a deep purpose to live and a love to life that I have not seen in any other being. This is the reason why I have decided that you shall become the prophet of this church. You shall become eternal as I, bereft of death."

"But why, Voice, why shall I become a specter of the human life cycle. I have no desire to become immortal."

"Joy without pain is improbable, love without hate is impossible. The human race is a volatile people of hate and pain, like the bandits of the desert. Yet, they can also be an encouraging love and a source of joy, like the woman in the city that you cared so much about. Humans are the farthest from purity in the spiritual realm, yet they make progress every day. You are among the ones that are of my true children, the only one that loves life as much as I. I can see it in your heart. Your strong spirit is what sets you different from the rest. Your sense of individuality is strong, yet you have a unique need of unity. I love all and I see all, but you are exceptional. You hold a purpose to serve inside of you and that is why you shall remain here for eternity. Even in this place of barrenness, I feel the people's hearts cry out. You shall be their healer, their redeemer. Accept this fate and I shall provide you with whatever you need. For you are the wise of the wise, the determined among the faithless. I shall rename you Yogensha, the prophet."

So it came to pass that Yogensha, the prophet remained there forever, influencing passerby with the Trial of the Forgotten that was used on him to take away the disease and heal his anatomy. He healed many and earned a great reputation for a divine spiritual leader. He lived an endless existence in the vast domain of the desert he called the Trail of Forgiveness.

By Stephen Webb