Peaceful, quite, full of serenity. The breeze touching my skin and taking my thoughts to the most distant mountains. The sun peering through the clouds, shining on the grass, reflecting the diamonds of the dew.

Two brothers coming. Peace in their hearts, smiles on their faces. Sweet words, prayers, and a portion of scripture. Deep theology, intense beliefs. Good people. Full of insight and emotion.

“So, in essence, we are gods”

Suddenly grass turns to lava, the sun is replaced by a demon, the wind is a scorching sandstorm and the eyes of the brothers become those of a serpent’s, as their flesh turns hard, green, and evil. Their tongues slither and their words become hisses, no longer music, but the screechings of the damned.

In their hands no longer is a book, but a cursed apple, black and flowing with blood. The blood not of Christ, but of those who have perished through deception and ego.

 

 

 

 

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