The Redmadafa

by Gary Foshee

  THE REDMADAFA

  Papa and then walked back to his room and sat down on his bed.

  Chesty rose from the floor and rounded the corner. Petra looked

  up from his bed. “The Augur told me I would see you again.”

  Chesty didn’t say anything. He just smiled.

  “What happened to you in the colosseum? Did he save you

  before they could throw your soul into the pit?”

  Chesty stepped inside and shut the door. He sat down by

  Petra and scooted to the edge. “I felt the blade pierce my back. I felt death clawing through my body, waging war against the life

  within. I remember seeing your face and hearing your cry after

  I called out His Name but The Shadow of Death moved over me

  quickly. I tried to run and hide; we all tried to run, but he was powerful—I was scared. But, down deep inside, I knew somehow, someway, The Augur would not abandon me to the pit.

  After the battle, the door to the pit swung open. Thousands,

  upon thousands, millions upon millions of screams shot up, cry-

  ing for one drop of water to quench their thirst. They cried and begged for mercy but there was no one to help.”

  Chesty paused.

  “All were down there; rich and poor, king and queen; women

  and men; beast and creature. All who had never called upon The

  Augur or believed in His Name. The Shadow of Death knew me.

  Right before he threw me in, he raised me to his face. I looked

  into his eyes,”

  Chesty paused again. His voice struggled… “Eyes of death…

  eyes of despair…eyes of murder, strife and envy—Eyes of…”

  Chesty looked up, “Unforgiveness.”

  He laughed a vulgar haunting laugh and spit into my face.

  He cast me through the hole and slammed the door shut. Below

  me, a river of fire stretched so far my eyes could scarcely hold it.

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  Millions of hands reached out and grabbed at me, grabbed at all

  of us. They tried to pull us into the fire.

  We ran.

  We hid behind rocks.

  We climbed the ceiling and tried to open the door.

  We ran through caves looking for a slight glimmer of hope.

  But there was no escape. There was no hope. All was lost.

  Dark Demons chased us through the tunnels. They hunted

  us down through long dark shafts laden with thorny spikes. They

  threw us against the wal s and floors, impaling our souls over and over on the spikes. They beat and tormented us night after night.

  I heard my name.”

  Chesty started to cry. He put his hands over his ears and

  continued.

  “People from Thunder Juice Town; people I knew but had

  never told them about The Augur. They cursed me, over and

  over—they attacked me. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you

  tell us the truth… Elder?’ The demons mocked me; they mocked us al . And the thirst—I was thirsty, so thirsty.”

  Petra watched each subtle expression of his Papa’s face. He

  could see the agony deep within as he retold the story. But he was proud—proud to be his son and proud to be a “Puller.”

  But, then the ground began to shake. A bright light passed

  through the pit door and descended into the depths of the abyss

  forceful y landing in the middle of the river, splitting it in two.

  Blood dripped from his side into the river releasing our souls. A White Wooly stood in the middle of the river and said:

  ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to His

  Majesty except through Me!”

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  The door of the pit shook violently. It burst open just as

  he said:

  “Follow me and I will give you living water. Drink of it

  and you will never thirst again!”

  Petra listened careful y, his ears soaked up every word, every

  emotion—he couldn’t get enough. “Wel , what happened?” he

  asked.

  Chesty looked at him with a sharp uncertain look on his face,

  “What do you think happened? That place cleared out like dark-

  ness escaping from morning’s light. We got out of there as fast as we could!”

  Petra sat there running visions of that moment through his

  mind. He knew there must be a reason why his Papa was sharing

  this with him.

  “Wow. Papa, wherever He takes me, wherever I go, I will

  make sure this great big circle knows the truth: The truth that

  there is no other way to His Majesty except through the sacrifice of his son—The Augur.

  Petra stood up, walked over to his desk and took out a writ-

  ing pad. He thought for a moment and then wrote:

  “Blessed be His Majesty, Father of The Augur. According

  to his great mercy he has given us new birth into a lively

  hope by the resurrection of The Augur from the dead, and

  into an incorruptible and undefiled inheritance that can-

  not fade away, kept in heaven for you, who are kept by the

  power of His Majesty’s through faith unto salvation ready

  to be revealed in the last time.”

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  * * * * * * *

  He marched through the mountains and turned at the fork. With

  a flicker in his eye, he scoured the switchback. Down the gorge

  he moved with stealth, before splintering into the draws, melting the fog. Up the jagged wal s he climbed with fame; today was

  his day, the valley was about to change forever. Over the shat-

  tered remains of Mount Viper he sprang his trap, soaring across

  the valley, with victory on his face. No longer would his glorious light be kept at bay. Over fingers and under cliffs; in ravines and through the tunnels he searched. He even dove to the bottom of

  the Dead Sea—he gawked, he gazed, he asserted himself.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he tantalized,

  standing outside Gravers cave.

  Deep down in the cold dark cave his hideous form hid. Afraid

  and perplexed, he heard the echo, “Come out, come out, wherever

  you are.” It followed every crevice; it searched every shaft. It hid under rocks, but it was all in vain.

  “Shadow of death, reveal yourself cowered! I challenge thee;

  come, let us make war and display our power.”

  A monstrous growl roared exploding a hurricane-force wind

  from the mouth of the cave instantly freezing Sun, encasing him

  in a glacial tomb of ice. The Shadow of Death burst from his hiding place and collided with Sun, knocking him across the valley

  into the side of Mount Viper.

  Deep underneath the mountain, in the smoldering remains of

  lava and caved tunnels, in a heavily fortified secret chamber,

  a dark red crystal standing in the middle of the room cracked

  from the impact. Inside the crystal tomb, behind the transparent rock, yellow eyes opened. The crystal rattled and shook. Rocks

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  bounced off the ground and collided into each other. The crystal shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, covering the floor with a dark, rosy-red shine.

  Beelzebub, the prince of demons, emerged from the tomb.

  He rose up, spread his wings, and shook off the remaining debris.

  He screeched out a blood curdling roar which shattered the out-

  side wal , bursting sunlight into his dark chamber. With the sun beating down on his black red-striped face, he sm
iled, exposing

  ivory fangs that sparkled bright.

  Mageddon had entombed him there hundreds of years

  earlier for insubordination and mutiny. Beelzebub had tried to

  overthrow Mageddon with several other fallen angels after King

  Ichabod sold his soul and the kings of the earth handed their

  land over to Mageddon. Grum, Mageddon’s spy, had caught wind

  of the mutiny and alerted Mageddon of his plans. Mageddon

  ambushed him before his plot could unfold and entombed him

  in the depths of Mount Viper, where Viper kept watch over him,

  day and night. The rest of his followers were cast into the pit. They became the demons of the abyss and the tormentors of souls.

  Sun shattered the ice around his body sending ice daggers shoot-

  ing across the valley. He crushed Mount Viper with his heel and

  shouted, “Is that all you got, Shadow? You hit like fog in an early morning rain, retreating at my first rays.”

  He doubled his fist and swung his cyclopean arm of fire across

  the valley, striking Shadow up into the universe, smashing his

  dark form against the planet Milkxy, fragmenting it into trillions and trillions of pieces, creating the Milky Way Galaxy. Dazed, he recovered and hurtled large boulders from the explosion at Sun.

  Swallowing them with his body, Sun grew in strength and power.

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  Shadow spiraled into a black hole, concealing his body in its

  dark, bottomless chasm. Sun entered the black hollow fluxing

  slowly into its vortex. Shadow circled around him like a serpent coiling around its prey. He looped rapidly around Sun and then

  thrust out of the hole, launching Sun through the galaxy—his

  body scorched Mercury and Venus and disintegrated millions of

  stars.

  Sun recovered. He shot around Jupiter and Saturn knocking

  Shadow into Uranus toppling it on its side. He pursued Shadow

  around the Milky Way spinning it around and around and

  around.

  Shadow pressed into Orion’s Arm and spun around, bombard-

  ing Sun with star clusters, meteors, and asteroids. Unfazed, Sun doused the barrage with rainbow beams exploding the massive

  boulders into tiny fragments that floated throughout the cosmos; each fragment sparkled with beautiful red, blue, yellow, purple, and green rays of light.

  Sun clutched The Shadow of Death by his throat and pulled

  him close. “Your reign has come to an end Shadow. You will no

  longer suck the life from the ground nor will your darkness tor-

  ment the inhabitants of the earth.”

  Shadow constricted his coils around Sun again, but Sun’s

  light was too powerful; it pierced the darkness, chaining his body with thick bolts of lightning.

  “This is not over Sun. The battle for earth may be lost, but the War of Souls is coming. When my power has been restored, we

  will meet again.”

  Hundreds of Cherubs and Seraphs circled around Shadow.

  They escorted his tightly bound body to the constel ation of

  Musca, which lies South of the Southern Cross, and impris-

  oned him.

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  Sun slowly made his way back through the solar system and

  took his place back in its center. The earth, watching from afar, rotated, and for the first time in, a time, times and half a time, Sun rose over the valley displaying his merciful rays of life and hope upon its dry and parched surface. Defeated and his power

  locked away, The Shadow of Death could only watch with his evil

  eye in the center of Musca’s nebula as Sun lit up the valley revealing a rainbow of a thousand colors.

  The valley was no longer a valley of death and despair. It

  wondrously transformed into a valley of hope, teaming with an

  abundance of life. The land grew lush and green, vibrantly feed-

  ing and sustaining life for all its new inhabitants. Rain nourished the land from above. Magnificent clusters of flowers, bushes, trees and grass sprung from rich organic soil. Streams flowed down

  parched and dry riverbeds, ushering in cool life-giving water;

  Bugler fish followed in suit, as if leading a grand parade. They played harmonious hymns of praise up and down the banks, all

  of which spilled into an abundant fresh-water lake.

  Beasts, from Mageddon’s remaining army, crawled from hid-

  ing and regained their sanity. They drank from the water and ate from the abundance of the land. They lost their hatred of men

  and became one with the land, as harmony filled the valley once

  again. Peace sprouted, covering the land in spectacular green

  foliage, so thick and tall that thunder beasts could lie in shade under the lotus plant. Flowers of every kind bloomed, blanketing the valley with every color known to man. Trees, with their roots firmly secure under The Redmadafa, swayed in the wind. Grasses strummed their tunes to the beat of Mushrooms dancing mer-rily ‘round-and-round’ with Blossom Berries. Life was restored.

  Hope renewed. And Justice…wel , He was just getting started.

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  * * * * * * *

  From deep within the black Abyss, below the river of fire, a voice

  echoed brokenly:

  I am happy, I am free,

  I’m in charge of my destiny.

  No more hurting, no more sob,

  Pass through me gate and become like God!

  I will have my vengeance! I will trample the fiery stones! I will return! I will return!

  ECKELBESH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  E P I L O G U E

  The Big Round About

  Lay aside everything that hinders and

  run with patience

  the race set before you.

  Junction Point filled with race huts, vendors, competitors and

  spectators—they spread out across the land like ants coming in

  from the savanna to devour a mushy mart cream pie. There was

  room for everyone. It didn’t matter if you walked upright or on all four. It didn’t matter if you swam, hopped, ran, walked, crawled, hobbled or soared; everyone was welcome—after al , it was the

  biggest race of the century.

  The Wind Whistler swept through the valley with a cool

  breeze. The cold refreshing gust cooled the valley, causing smal peaks to ripple across the arms of spectators all along the trail and 349

  Dr. Gary Warren Foshee

  up into the newly-built wooden stands held together by bamboo

  poles and twisted vines. Along the trail, freshly-bloomed red roses mixed with sharp shades of indigo. Each folded cup swayed gently in the cool breeze, which bore the fresh scent of spring. Fruit trees bloomed all across town and for miles along the banks of

  The Redmadafa. Women plucked off the lovely blooms and slid

  them behind their ears. Others made necklaces and placed them

  around necks as people exited the gates and ventured up the trail.

  Thunder beasts, harnessed with chains around their necks,

  pulled logs up and down the trail next to the finish line mak-

  ing it smooth and level. Large trelaby’s flew amongst the crowd, selling delicious rainbow treats of every color and flavor. Race officials returned from inspecting the trail and reported to Mike and Johnny. There was still one report missing—the report from

  Skull Tunnel. The race official was seen entering the tunnel but hadn’t been seen since.

  Off in the distance, through the race huts and colorful pennants flapping in the wind, a strange medium-sized figure bobbed up

  and down. Petra was so excited about bein
g in the race that he

  floated through the air like a butterfly. He had thoughtful y put together a pre-race warm-up routine that he was certain would

  propel him past the other racers. But what he didn’t realize

  was that it made him look like he was doing the funky chicken

  instead up warming up for a race; his head, shoulders, arms, feet, and legs swiveled around like a fall leaf being tossed around by the wind. He then proceeded to add jumping up and down, and

  swinging his arms like a mad man to his routine. Oka and Chesty

  remained inside the hut looking over the race map trying to calm their own nerves.

  Brook and Rachael walked through the huts and spotted

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  Petra—in fact everyone had spotted Petra—he was hard to miss.

  In the last few weeks they had been joined at the hip—BFF’s.

  Rachael had several sleepovers and Brook never missed a service

  at the Temple.

  “Hey Petra…looking good. You ready for your big day?” said

  Brook, holding a large bag of blossom berry cotton candy in her

  hand. She twirled off a big blue piece and stuffed it in her mouth.

  Rachael, sipping on a brumpel melon slushy, quietly waved.

  “Nice headband you got there.”

  “Thanks. You like you?” Petra had tried to make a rainbow

  headband but the colors all faded leaving it tie-dyed.

  They both nodded their heads. “Oh yeah…It’s…groovy.”

  They observed Petra for a moment and then several other

  competitors. “What are you doing?” asked Brook, with a strange

  look on her face.

  Continuing his routine, Petra added in bending over and

  touching his hands to his feet. “I’m warming up. I need to get

  loose and stay loose.”

  Brook considered her words wisely. She reached up over her

  head and picked a couple of flowers off the tree and stuck them

  behind her ear and Rachael’s. “That’s quite a routine you’ve got there. Did you get that from the other competitors?” (implying

  that maybe he should watch the others and learn from them since

  this was all new to him) and the race officials had bent the rules to let him in—they were going to let him run in the race even

  though he hadn’t qualified.

  “Nope. I made it up myself. I call it, ‘TDS 90,’ short for ‘The