“And He will send His angels and gather His elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.”
-Mark 13:27
#
As I waited for Dahlia, a homeless man, the one we called ‘the guy’ suddenly stood up and raised his cardboard poster. Looking afraid of something which seemed to be in front of him, he started yelling. First, it was unrecognizable yelling, and only after a few moments, as if his mind had trouble taking control of his tongue, his shouts took the form of crude and badly pronounced words. Nobody knew who the guy was. He had a long and tangled grey beard that covered more than half of his face and on his head, he wore a dirty yellow fisherman cap. Now when I think of it, I’d never seen him without his hat.
Nobody knew who he was or from where he came. His French was questionable at best but he somehow managed to speak it… or yell it for that matter. He found a spot at the city square one day, obtained his cardboard post, and started waving it and screaming at the bystanders. On the poster, the guy had written: Be Afraid. They are coming. Sure, some people, mostly the owners of the coffee shops, tried to have him moved, but he would always come back to his spot. And he wasn’t violent or anything, he just liked yelling at people. With time, the people got used to the guy, occasionally even handing him some change.
“Oh, am I late to the party?”, Dahlia said, walking towards me but glancing at the guy. He was now yelling at two teenagers who laughed in return.
“Nah, the show has just started.”
We sat at the cafe for a while, enjoying the music from the radio as well as the guy’s shrieks. I had a Macchiato with soya milk and Dahlia had a large cafe Americano. She wore a loose scarf as a hijab, although a few strands of her black hair fell through. We would meet at least once or twice a month where we would talk about everything, from everyday nuisances to questions about purpose and the whole universe. We used to date before, back when she was still Annie, back before she converted. However, I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to her than at that moment when she was Dahlia. It was a kind of closeness you can develop with people only after the passion and sexual desires had dwindled.
“…So, as I was saying!”, she finished her coffee with a loud gulp, “I caught Ali doing it, and I mean doing it, together with the tissues and lotion, and you know what he had said to me? Right there at that moment??”
I shook my head, grinning.
“He said that I should close the door because there was a draft. A DRAFT!”
I laughed, almost knocking down my glass of water.
“And, the worst part… he said it in all seriousness. Holding his… thing and looking me in the eyes. And the draft was his biggest concern? I can’t…”, she burst out laughing, “I can’t even. That kid is crazy!”
She laughed for a moment, while I grabbed a cigarette. Ali was her younger brother.
After Dahlia had stopped giggling, I asked: “Do you think that it was okay to convert Ali? I mean… he isn’t even eighteen. He can’t know…”
Dahlia shrugged. “I… umm. I guess he can go back to being Martin when he turns eighteen. Although… I don’t know. What I want to say is that being Dahlia is much better for me. It’s even worth carrying this thing around!”, she tucked her hair under the scarf. “All the anxiety and stress I’ve dealt with before are now gone. Well not completely but… you know. You understand. It’s much easier knowing that there’s something or someone there that you can always lean on. Something that will take care of you when you finally lose the fight with life.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what I’m talking about… but I think you understand.”
I nodded. Annie was an atheist when we first met. She was just like any other typical teenager, in love with rock and black clothes. But she had problems, mainly with overstressing and anxiety. It was after I had left her that she found help in her father’s religion. And so, Dahlia was born.
“So, what about you? Did you meet someone new?”, Dahlia asked, smiling.
“Nah, I’m too introverted to find a girlfriend. Landing you was probably my peak.” We both laugh. “But for all seriousness…”
Her phone rang. Dahlia looked at it, then at me. She was worried.
“It’s my dad.”
Dahlia’s dad never called her.
She picked up the phone, shaking. It looks like the hijab couldn’t protect her from anxiety anymore.
While they spoke, I looked around. I froze, noticing that half of the cafe was empty and the other half was worrisomely looking around. Glasses and trays fell and shattered as people stood up, knocking over their chairs. As panic erupted, they called out their friends and family, whoever was with them mere moments ago.
“What the…”, I cursed under my breath, when the guy started shouting.
“They are here! They have taken the lucky few! Oh Lord, help us who are unworthy!” His shouts overpowered the panicky tumult of the crowd which appeared on the square. Someone near me called their husband. I picked up my phone. I wanted to call my parents but the finger lingered above the ‘call’ button.
“It’s Ali!”, Dahlia put down the phone, visibly shaken. “He’s gone. Just disappeared. Father was with him and it is as if Ali disappeared into thin air! Bastien! What’s going on? What the fuck is going on?!” She grabbed my hand as tears rolled down her face.
“Um”, I stuttered as my mind raced. An ambulance siren reached me, making me panic even more. I stood up.
“I warned you, but you didn’t listen! Now we will all burn with the heathens!” The guy continued screaming as people ran around. Everyone was frightened and confused, only the guy seemed to be excited. “They are here! The messengers are here! We are not worthy!”
“Sorry”, I murmured to Dahlia, who begged me with her eyes. “Let me just…”
I walked away from her quickly. I could feel her eyes on my back. A woman bumped into me. “Pierre? Are you Pierre? Where are you, Pierre!?”
In a corner of my eye, I saw someone jumping from the window. It sounded as if two cars crashed somewhere near. A girl was praying, kneeling among the rushing crowd.
The guy raised his eyes and looked at me. “You can see them as well? The messengers?”
“What the fuck is going on? Did you do this?”, I asked, surprised at the rage that came with those words.
“Oh, I warned you, son. I warned you they will come!”
I grabbed him by the collar. His stench nearly pushed me back. “What the hell is happening? Where the fuck are all the people?!”
“Hush! He’ll hear us!”
“What? Who the f…”
The guy’s voice, his smell, the sounds of the crowds behind me, even Dahlia calling after me; everything stopped. Everyone stopped moving. I slowly turned around.
It was as if I was looking at a renaissance painting. People were frozen in their running. There was confusion and fear in their eyes. Dahlia’s hijab had fallen off and was now hovering in the air. Dahlia was reaching for me. Her fingers were inches away.
The air vibrated. A sound erupted, enveloping me. It seemed as if an orchestra of slightly unturned harps was around me.
“They heard you!”, The guy said to me, although he was frozen like the others.
The orchestral harmony culminated when a solid structure appeared right in front of me. As it was gaining in size, the air and whatever else was next to it, vibrated and fizzled, curving itself to make space for the structure. The stone slabs on the ground bent so that the structure could be perfectly round.
A white line appeared on the equator of the round structure. I struggled to breathe. It was hard drawing in the air when it was refusing to move.
The two halves separated by the white line retracted, revealing… an iris. My whole body gave out when I realised a human-sized eye was staring at me.
The guy squealed from behind me.
The eye started buzzing.
Be Not Afraid.
A foreign idea appeared in my mind. The eye was staring at me, still and emotionless. Around it, a few more structures started sprouting from nothingness. They looked like circular pillars, arcs, going from and back into the eye. One erupted where Daphne stood, distorting her and making her tilt to the side.
I opened my mouth to move, but the fear had clogged my throat. “Aren’t they magnificent?”, the guy whispered.
God Still Loves You. You Are Worthy.
My eyes watered as I struggled with words. The unseen orchestra continued, louder than ever. The structures which orbited the eye vibrated themselves.
Holy, Holy, Holy Is the Lord Almighty.
Smaller eyes appeared along the circular pillars. They opened up and looked at me.
The music stopped.
My legs gave out and I fell. The panic was still in the air, but the eye and the ominous music were gone.
Dahlia grabbed me. Her hair danced in the wind.
“Bastien? Are you alright? You are so pale…”
As I struggled to breathe, I glanced at the place where the guy was. All that was left of him was the cardboard poster on the ground.
