Wednesday, November 09, 2016
I will not lose hope
There was once a woman who wanted to do good in the world.
Her name was Justina, and her desire was so great that she stumbled into summoning the powerful spirit of power and despair.
And he offered her the power she was after in return for her soul.
And when she hesitated, he said:
“what's a soul? A bag of air. A little wind. Sign here”.
And she does.
Everything goes wrong of course. The power that she wanted does not bring good to anybody, and she loses the one she loves.
And all the while death’s door comes closer and closer.
In the end the Devil says:
DEVIL
The king sat in her court. She had a soldier, a beggar, a madman and a ghost. And now they've gone and left her.
JUSTINA
All but you.
DEVIL
And I will never leave you. I will stay with you always. Even unto the end of the world.
THE DEVIL MOVES ROUND THE STAGE, PUTTING OUT ALL THE CANDLES.
JUSTINA
You belong to hell.
DEVIL
Where I live. Not where I belong.
JUSTINA
Does it hurt?
DEVIL
It does at first. When we enter it, we cry. We howl with pain and rage. Our skin's so soft, you see. So very tender. But you get used to that.
Besides, we all wear clothes.
JUSTINA
Clothes? In hell?
DEVIL
Of course. It's very civilised.
JUSTINA
But doesn't God torment you?
DEVIL
We don't need God. We all torment ourselves.
JUSTINA
Which pain is worse?
DEVIL
The lack of light.
JUSTINA
Is it always dark?
DEVIL
Of course we have the sun. We have the moon as well. And all the lesser stars. But that is not the light I mean. It is the lack of inner light that hurts. The confusion. The sense of loss.
But you get used to that.
JUSTINA
But that's what it's like here.
DEVIL
Where else do you think we are?
JUSTINA
Is there no way out?
DEVIL
Through the door.
JUSTINA
I won't go.
DEVIL
You will. You must. The seed must die. Your soul is mine.
THE DEVIL HAS PUT OUT ALL THE CANDLES BUT ONE. HE GIVES IT TO JUSTINA. HE EXITS THROUGH DEATH'S DOOR. JUSTINA STARES AT HER LIGHT A WHILE.
JUSTINA
How frail a light. How easy to put out. I could do it with my hand.
They say to some death comes so sweetly, like a friend. But not to me.
The night is always darkest in the hour before the daylight comes.
Then, they say, the sun will rise and chase away the spirits of the dark.
But, till that hour we have to grope our way through shadows and await the dawn.
And she goes out into the slowly growing daylight as the birds sing to announce the coming of dawn.
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