Storymania - Death The Intruder by Norman A Rubin

Death The Intruder
Norman A Rubin

Death the Intruder - Norman A. Rubin

The Renaissance Period, an era in which man was proficient in many fields of learning and in the arts that had brought lasting offerings of inspired thought and gifted work. Yet, it was the time of great fever, the chronic fever, and the lasting fever that spread its plaguey curse of the once fruitful earth. The Black Plague had returned in its midst to the once good earth bringing devastation in its wake. Drought and famine followed on the corruption that ravaged the land bringing pestilence and the final last breath. "Behold a pale horse, and its rider's name was Death!"
The Black Plague swept over the lands and death was the reward to the many of the selected. The faithful of that era of misery cried out for deliverance for the evil that beset them, but were unaware of the prophecies of the past that predicted the time of its coming in order to purge the land from sin. Father Death was said to have entered earth through sin, and since all men sin, the heirs of Adam must pay the price.
The signs were given in the far-sighted writings of the prophets in the Good Book. They had warned by the Word of the Lord that the world had been stored through the ages by the evil sins of man, being kept until the day of judgement, "The wicked shall be condemned." * "The wicked shall be turned into Hell! ** The prophets cautioned that the retribution for not heeding the word of the Lord the world would be punished in a great conflagration; the heat of fire will cover the corruption of sin. The prophets called out for repentance of the ungodly before the destructive end. Their words went unheeded and Father Death rode his fiery steed through the land following the toil of the Great Plague.

The priests and saints told the faithful that the world had been brought out of by being supernatural forces of chaos; prayer will support these forces and the curse of plague and pestilence will dissappear from the parched earth. The good people believed in their words and knelt in devotion and beseeched the most high. They cried out their dispair, the ripped their garments and tore at the hair in the fierceness of their devotion. Yet, their appeals went unanswered.
Shamans and holy men were asked to recite incantions to stop the 'pyretos megas' the great heat that spread its curse throughout the land. The cried out the words, "In the name of of all blessed ones that he may uproot from the body the fever and sickness. I command earnest and solemnly in the name of Abrasax!" Yet those words were no barrier to the harvesting of the Grim Reaper.
But, as they knelt and bowed their their heads in humility, their prayers were blocked by harsh rays of the 'shimsha, the burning sun, which cast out the 'hermitariton', the great fever; it struck down without remorse the faithful companion, the newly born and growing young. Nobody was spared the cold fingers of the plaque, from princes to paupers. The King of Death reaped untiringly with his scythe leaving a few sheaths to ripen.
Scapegoats were found and the accusing finger was pointed at them; the innocent ones were depicted as bloated personifications of the devil incarnate that carried the miseries of the Great Plague. They were damned and brought to burning stake or to the road of expulsion. Father Death watched the stupidity of man to his fellow man as he continued to reap his harvest.
The corteges rumbled over the dried packed earth under the 'shimsa' the sun of the day. The flaming angel of the sun hovered over the cursed scene mixed with priests chanting and mourners weeping. Lament was cried out and continuing prayers beseeched the most high for the end of the surfeit of seemingly endless suffering.
The belief of the sufferers and survivors swore on their hearts that the dark nights were reigned by its quietness; it spread its rule over the final resting-places. It was the time of the gathering of the spiritual world. One spirit after another arose from their earthly covering. One spirit came from the grave blessed with an angelic statue; another phantom rose from beneath a large ornate stone cross; a spirit emerged from a tomb marked 'The Lord is Mighty, the Lord is his name'; another shadow emerged from a grave with simple stone slab. Then another and another arose from the warmth of the earth. Slowly the burial sites were filled with the spirits of the dead, all standing next to their eternal home. The shadows of the former sons and daughters were covered in a shroud of mist.
Mumbling sounds were rumbled from their shadowy mouths that related untimely demise in the time of the great sickness, the 'Ruah Ketiv' the bitter destruction that turned the once living into a bountiful crop to be scythed by King Death. "From King Death there is no escape, everyone, the righteous, the sinful, returns to darkness and dissolution!"
For every person that lived under the heavy hand of drought and plague that ravaged the land, there comes the end in time when King Death took them by the hand and said, "it is time to rest, you are tired, lie down and sleep. For this sleep there is no fear, no care for the inflicted miseries. The eternal slumber for the everlasting peace as it has no to-morrow."
The righteous ones asked, "Why were we chosen to die?" They told of their obedience to the words to the Good Book, their good deeds on the warmth of the earth, their duty to family and kin, Yet, they asked over and over again, "why were we corrupted in death, to wander to that place way yonder?" Yet, for those there was no answer. The 'eshata raba' the everlasting fever struck them down without any recourse to their goodness in the living world.
The phantoms of the wicked, the ungrateful, the selfish, the philander, stood alongside their ornate burial site, a symbol of their hypocricy. Their shrouded figures bowed their wickedness to the inevitable. Death from the ravages of diseased land was for them the everlasting punishment, visited upon them for their disobedience to the Word, ingratitude to the blessing of a fruitful life, or their sheer stupidity in all matters. But King Death only told of the reason of their gathered souls in his eternal harvest, "It was the misfortune of the act of the damnation to the good earth that had taken place, therefore you were unfortunate in the sloughing of your skins to mere shadows!"
King Death was there, the black clothed skeleton with is rusty but sharp scythe; the curve of the blade reaped the souls of the departed. The presence of King death could be heard in the sound of his rattling of his bones on his skeletal frame. Those who waited till the last breath of life knew of his coming through the ticking of grains in his hourglass, each grain falling like moments of time. Together, the blessed and the damned looked and saw the spectral image approach softly as the grains of sand ceased to flow... And the reaped souls were taken from corrupt bodies and placed without solemn rites in the black sack carried over his shoulder.
The Grim Reaper is an intruder whose appearance was seen in the past, felt in the presence, and expected in the future; he was not there in the beginning, but he made an early appearance. He came in error and then rattled his bones over the dying. The shadow phantom chortled in delight as many with the sin of Adam were mowed down like sheaves of grain. He watched in grimness as pestilence swept barren the life of the damned."
The Black Death spread its terror and its cold touch enveloped both the weak and strong, the young and the old; the sweep of its damnation left one homestead empty and another spared. King Death looked on and led the ones cursed to the house of darkness, to the dwelling of nothingness; to a house from which he would enter but never goes forth. King Death transformed a form from one mode to another, the reunion with the body to the earth, and the soul with the eternal spirit.
Plagues, drought and holocausts are rich bounty looked upon with eagerness by Father Death.. Plentiful souls, damned by nature or man, that are stilled, harvested in its richness, stored in darkness of the hellish sack and carried to the harrows of torment in the never world.
King Death's harvest is everlasting and every living creature that fell to the sweep of his sickel never returns. He reaped with strength and patience in the past and carries on in is his pace at the present, and will continue in the coming future. Everything lingers for a moment and then hurries to a mortal end. The plants and insects die at the end of a season, an animal falls to prey, and man struggles on for a few years in time.
The crow of the cock cried out the rise of the sun, which brought a promise of the renewal of life. The passage of time saw the falling of blessed rain driving away the drought from the parched earth. Bountiful harvest was gathered and the cycle of life returned. The time of the Great Plague slowly turned into memory.
Yet, within the hidden shadows Father Death waits as he watched the sands of time trickle in his glass to the period of a gathering abundant harvest. The Grim Reaper patiently bids his time as he toiled amoungst both the righteous and wicked plucking a meager crop from the sons and daughter of man when their appointed time had come.
The lessons of the past will be forgotten. Then the wages of sin will be committed again by the legions of evil. Another era of plaguey death will come and Father Death�s harvest will again be bountiful.
* Deut 25:1 **Psa 9:17