Undone

The sun’s rays glared and blinded Thomas as he stood atop the crumbled masonry wrapped about the cathedral supporting the grotesques, or rather what few of them remained intact; and much like them, Thomas felt hollow, alone, and wrecked.

He whipped away the tears sliding onto his cheeks with vicious dab from his frayed sweater. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see everything and tears would have only obstructed that. He wiped his eyes again and leaned more toward the edge keeping his eyes on what was below him.

Scattered bodies, rolled vehicles, crumbled buildings. Death, destitution, depression, and deliverance lay low on the ruins of this town only a quick descent below. As he gazed upon his choices the winds rose quickly ripping and grabbing at Thomas nearly tearing him from the precarious ledge he was perched.

Thomas grabbed the parapet tight with his hands turning his bruised and dirty knuckles white. He clenched his teeth and eyes shut; hard with his force of will trying to keep him on the building ledge until finally the winds ceased.

Thomas opened his eyes slowly at first and looked about the pitted roof where he still stood. The ruddy rays of the sun were barely visible now and depthless darkness was creeping his way. With a scoff, Thomas relaxed his grip and his body.

“You no longer decide for me! I decide for myself!” He roared to the heavens. “It’s no longer your decision when I should die. Or who should die. I’m taking that out of your hands! You can’t throw me from this roof. But I can throw myself and I will decide when!”

Thomas turned back toward the city and looked it over again. He was waiting for the right moment. The right sign. Just when darkness and light met in a visible line beneath him—that’s when he wanted to send his message, and the message was nearly at hand.

Finally, as the last grain of sand bounced down the glass, Thomas was ready to make his choice. He crouched a little so he could jump a ways. He didn’t want to collide with debris of the shattered buttresses or collapsed bell tower. He wanted to be at the center of the plaza below as a symbolic mark if anyone still lived to see it. At least the heavens could gaze down upon him and weep.

Then with those thoughts firmly set in his mind, and a laugh on his voice, Thomas leapt. The air once again filled his flight, tugged at his sweater and his face. Filled his hair and rush all around him with a deafening rumble. Tears filled his eyes as the chilly air stung them. He found it hard to breathe, but it wouldn’t matter shortly.

The ground grew close and darkness closed around him, but as fast as everything was moving to meet him, it all stopped and stood still as if it were gazing at him critically, but Thomas knew that this was not so. Instead, the ground that was rushing to meet him was being held back and Thomas remained in stasis above the paving stones smelling the dirt and dust, very curious and very afraid.

But with gentleness and precision, Thomas was righted and set upon his feet, where he crumpled to his patched knees and wept. The sun rose out from the west and set in the east many times while the corpses became flesh and stood once more. The rubble and devastation became beauty and decisions once more.

Yet Thomas remained on his knees weeping hot tears of regret and fear for what yet maybe.