Genevieve

***

A mystical type of short story:

“But I don’t want to go,” she pleaded.

“What is here for you?” the voice asked.

“Why everything. My family, my husband, my brothers and sisters – all whom I love are here.”

The voice was soft, quiet in a way that was disturbing but also comforting.

“They are no longer here,” the voice continued.

“What do you mean they are no longer here?  I just saw them, just spent time with them, just spoke with them…of course, they’re here.”

“And the things you spoke of with them, what were they?”

“Ordinary things, everyday things.”

“But Genevieve, they do not hear you.”

“How do you know my name?”, she asked.

“I’ve known it throughout all time, of which I’ve always been with you.”

“I’m not dreaming, nor am I dead,” Genevieve thought.

“I feel my fingers and my toes – I’m still breathing, I feel my hair, my face and body. But I am no longer there. I am here, yet what I see is of nothing I’ve seen before. Where am I?”

“You are here,” the voice started…”a place in time where you must make a decision. Nothing here will harm you. Nothing here will make you decide upon one path or another.  You are here to make a decision…and that is the only reason you are here and will remain so until you decide.”

“Decide what?” she asked.

“You have known for some time that this point in your life was fast approaching.  You have never expressed it verbally to your family, your friends, your husband – for you feared, and rightly so, they would not understand.

You have been deeply troubled by the apathy of others, the undead. You have tried to awaken them.  Genevieve, they cannot be woke. It is not your choice…but theirs.

Apathy is a chain of thought, that once fully embraced, the undead cannot see anything other than that which only suits them – no matter the truth before their eyes. You have tried yet they cannot hear you.”

The mist holding her body in place, had the scent of her favorite flower, gardenia. The colors she saw were colors she had never seen. Tones, musical notes she heard, she had never heard before.

“There has to be another way,” she wondered aloud.

“If only,” the voice started. “How many souls have walked the paths of compassion, of love, and truth that you have? Thousands before you, yet so few have listened.

Those souls who dare to speak truth, who bring compassion and love before all else – they have been ignored, have been shouted down, have been cast out by the undead, by lovers of hatred, by the lost souls of the undead.

We are now coming for you and those of yours. Your brothers and sisters who cared enough to speak truth, sadly, your message is no longer accepted. The undead no longer care of wars they are apathetic to that kill millions of innocents, they no longer have the faintest of a care of the poisons unleashed upon the lands provided them. They cannot hear your pleadings to stop their insanity, for they are the lost, the undead for now. The apathetic who care for nothing.”

“I don’t understand.  What am I to decide?” Genevieve asked.

“I cannot tell you.  Only that whatever path you choose, will be the proper one. For there are souls who love unconditionally; and those who only love power, hatred and division.  You are the former, and therein lies your eternal.”

Genevieve closed her eyes, hearing the music of heaven, and allowed herself to be taken where the angels might take her.

And as she was drifting away, she had the last care of her heart, that those whom she was leaving, those whom she loved throughout her life, might at least come to terms with some truth of it all.

The voice offered…”those whom you are leaving – you did not choose to leave them, for they have been given all that you have been given – whether they choose to believe and act accordingly, we wait and hope.”

***

Tonight’s musical offering:

Mozart: Ave Verum Corpus –  KV. 618 – Leonard Bernstein

(46 bars of immortal beauty)

Photo credit: http://www.unsplash.com/@deandon

 

 

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