It was a night of terror. Not a terror of the unseen – with ghosts and hobgoblins silently sneaking into the subconscious of superstitious sleeping souls. For, that is when the terror of the unknown takes hold of those whose minds are not fixed firmly on terra firma. It was indeed the terror of the visible, the audible, the kinesthetically palpable.
Whilst the terror of the intangible arouses a silent scream, the terror of the visible, the audible and the kinesthetically palpable causes, despite a probable rigidity of all human muscles, very loud and frightening screams. Whilst such screams frighten the listener in a certain unsettling way, they frighten the screamer in a different and horrifying way.
On that night of terror, the question on everyone’s lips began with a simple anxiety-laden “What’s happening?” As the ground split in an apparently random fashion, the next question, uttered in a terrible fear, was “Which way do we run?” This was followed by a desperate “Is there anywhere I can hide?” as one’s bed, bath and, indeed, house fell into the ravines now forming. People fell into the ravines, and the simultaneous slippage of soil and other debris followed the path of gravity, burying the fallen.
A sudden and peaceful death was the good fortune of those whose trajectory was gravity-driven. If their religious leaders had spoken with sound knowledge, then the souls of the buried would sit at the right hand of God, or on Her knees; or wait to be recycled, in time, for yet another sojourn on Earth; or frolic in Heaven surrounded by music and the sound of fountains; or wait to be chosen for a reward of something or other. It would not matter. They were out of harm’s way.
For those who were required to live with the terror of the sounds and consequences of earthly destruction, there was no salvation. They would, with their broken bones and maladjusted minds, die slowly of cold, starvation, severe illnesses caused by polluted water (if there was any water available), criminal activity by fellow humans driven by greed of one kind or another, and lax recovery efforts by those of their rulers who were capable of remaining in office.
When Earth had finished rupturing, and parts of the countryside had simply sunk into the neighbouring sea or moved out into the ocean to form new islands, the survivors would discover that all the known volcanoes had blown their tops. Whilst this outpouring would enrich the soil for the centuries to come, the volcanic ash thrown up into the atmosphere would block the sun over all of Earth for decades. So, more people would starve to death, societies would disappear, and Gaia (the Soul of Earth) would rejoice!
Whilst the human population of Earth needed a drastic pruning, I did not want you to die. But I could not see you. Did you survive the night of terror? Regrettably, I still cannot help you, as I am sitting on the right knee of Herself!
(This piece is an extract from my book ‘Pithy Perspectives: a smorgasbord of short, short stories.’ The book has been reviewed most favourably by the NSW State President of the Federation of Australian writers, and by the U.S. Review of Books. Available as an ebook for $2.99 from Amazon Kindle Direct. The last story, ‘A parable for adults,’ offers an unpredictable and uplifting ending.)
RAJA ARASA RATNAM 