1 + 1 = 3

This is a transition page for Mahogany's Role from W.B.
<<‏‏‎ ‎Mahogany's Role‏‏‎ ‎| |‏‏‎ ‎To Wreak A Cosmo‏‏‎ ‎>>
"And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."
When father died, it was as if Father had gone.
That day, love became nothing but mourn.
He left us for angels to claim tears.
Then, juxtaposed men cried.
"As for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of fire, and like the appearance of lamps: it went up and down among the living creatures; and the fire was bright, and out of the fire went forth lightning."
"I mean, we still visit him from time to time."
"Haha!"
(his incongruous smile of laughter — the most saddening sarcasm of our lives — hid its facade and turns into a frown)
"He was… beloved."
"He's the backbone for the family, not just the head for the family. Both ours and the… well, the Ezekiel's…; he talking, providing, or arguing, active in both; and his faith toward God. He's a busy man and spirit."
"That day, when he found him lump on the ground…"
(now the words that came from a stream of water was struck by an avalanche)
"He cried, he cried more,
'Till blood came out.
The cattle stopped running and playing and like sharks they died when they did to catch a single breath.
It felt like a wedding, that night. A whole buffet served to us by waiters, free of charge even. We sat there and all but Carney stayed. He went to the bathroom but we knew it was time to escape. The oyster soup served for our penultimate appetizer was gonna hurt all us, and especially mom. She ate it before she was told to. The oysters weren't obvious and we were at first bothered by the thin layer of goo on top of the soup. They might've taken the clams from McDonald's. When minute by minute as she stood still glamorized by false gods her breaths became harder to catch. Oysters are her Achilles knee, and I almost tore mine when Jordan and I took her back home through the same road my brother took to get rid of his crying about cherry farming away from my papa's ears.
I heard Miles' yelling from a distance. I ignored him.
She tried to vomit the poison out and but that could've spread the oyster poison throughout her body even more. Gasping for air. It looked like she had ran a hundred marathons back-to-back. When we reached our kitchen and the first-aid cabinet that was almost pitch black from the dust there were medicines that smelt like molten plastic. Everything was covered in dust but the EpiPen's themselves. Expiration date: March 1st, 2015. Thank God. Everything else, even if they cost the same as healthcare insurance, they were all thrown out and scattered like grenade shrapnel. The EpiPen pack wasn't so wasteful of our religion money after all. A pair of scissors hanging by a nail still smelling like cherries and stalks and seeds. I dropped it on the floor and almost stabbed her on the chest as it fell. It was unexpectedly sharp like paper, maybe even more. I cut open her jeans to get the pen to work. A thin stream of blood appeared when I swung it. I'm so fucked. Even death and taxes became the last thing I worried about. My God, please help us.
We calmed ourselves, not ready to return yet. The suits were as uncomfortable as wearing cacti inside out, and with the situation didn't help either. Hours went by without a single speck of dust moving. It was like wood chipping all over again. We all lied down in our childhood beds. When I awoke I was all musty with the slight smell of rotten cabbage and dried sweat. The place was all haunted, with a slight Prussian blue tone that tainted the air around and inside our home. Windows all covered, but flashing red and blue. My ears weren't even awake it seemed. I took a glance around and it was so foggy there were lines of moonlight passing between the shades. I carefully marked my steps. The patches of light on the floor acted as platforms and the darkness of the floor a boundless void. Jordan had awaken as I walked up to his bedroom where the colors were more saturated. He had saliva all over his chin and breast, moving sideways before letting a stretch. I saw his reflection through the small slither of glass. I opened the curtains and I felt as if aliens had arrived on our front door. The police. My ears are electrified by the police sirens. There was loud banging on the door. Mother collapsed by the kitchen countertop. I could discern the heavenly, liturgical echoes that came from the northeast. It came from one point but it felt like it was all ubiquitous, blasting to a crescendo on every inch of my body. The sound kept on like tsunami waves crashing on the beach.
I checked on her before opening the door. The officers outside had carved out the wood with all those knockings. She was breathing and it looked like she had taken a rest and fell asleep and was still snoozing despite the noise. The moment was barely felt, but I had asked myself: What should I tell the officers about her sickness? I could sense that she was perfectly fine. But they brought an entire army to a pillow fight. The initials FBI painted by the light upon the walls and roofs and even the floor of the house. Vomiting may be explosive and sudden but it's no Bojinka.
The knocking kept increasing, an earthquake was sprouting. It culminated in a harsh sentence, an ironically climatic ending spoken by one of the officers.
"We have a warrant."
"Get the hell out of here, we don't need any of your help." I don't know why I was still upset.
We need to search the premises. We've been told there was a fatal religious ceremony that happened around here. This is for your own safety and the safety of others. Please leave the area immediately.
Right before I unlocked the door I felt a cold but gentle drenched touch on my shoulder. She had woken up. At least it won't look as if I've poisoned her, but that she just took a swim down the lake. There was a pool of water where she laid before.
The officers all wearing bulletproof vests but as unarmed as starving children. What's the use even? Their faces were terrified, acting tough to mask it all and showing the only appreciation that they probably had in their lives. All of them looked to be in their 30s–40s. Some probably in their 50s. War and schadenfreuder veterans realized the killing of innocents and children was for nothing looked to have recently taken a vacation to Vietnam.
"Why are you guys gasping?"
A different officer dethroned the one whom I spoke to before.
"You heard of the rituals that just happened here?"
"What rituals?"
"You can hear it from just about east, northeast."
"That ain't no ritual, officer."
"We were informed of a mass killing hours ago from just outside Durham county. We need to evacuate."
"Funny. It's a ceremony, and we were going to burn a bunch wood twigs. So yes, there was a mass killing… of trees. That's what the Forest Service do every day."
…
Oh…
the ocean of flashing red and blue shook like a tsunami
he saw the barrels inside the cabins, triskeles with rounded corners enclosed within a circle
white lights, but not bright. eyesight shutters like a camera.
ah, shucks.
"Pa, what're you do?"
What are they doin' over there?
"Nothing, Carney. Just go back into the house!"
Isn't that where the mysterious cabin is? Why is he going there?
"Be careful, pa. Please just get back before sundown!"
I looked down to my saw. My dad's chainsaw covered in tree's blood laid on the blanket of foliage. I looked left. The wood's almost done. Just a couple more, maybe I can look at what he's doing. Or not? Let's just go now.
(the rustling leaves cushions his footsteps)
He's lighting a smoke again? It's been four times already.
(the rustling leaves cushions his footsteps)
The cabin's now visible, I guess. These mini-hills are killing me.
(a fragment of human contact, its walls blow the leaves away to reveal patches of organic dirt over the noise of orange and yellow leaves)
Why's he pulling a beige barrel there? Is he taking a sip? Oh, he's just sniffing it.
(the father turns the barrel to check if there is mold growing on it)
A-R-S-E… Ah… I see.
(scoffs) Must be wine. Why do people like that anyway? It smells and tastes like arse.
(Fred pulls his head away and goes back, before taking a note on the strange symbol plastered on paper which hanged by the front door)
Is he peeling it? Weird. Gotta tell Jordan about this.
My mother was poisoned…
…And the EpiPen somehow made that go away?
The paint peels off in serpentine and crumbles into dust. The black dust sweeps away, evaporating with the wind like raindrops on the ocean's surface. And so I show the only appreciation I had in my life. 200 people went there? It's fine. At least there's 3 left. God is always generous.
I heard Miles' yelling. I went back. I could sense his irateness through the plastic "the show's hasn't ended yet!" to the audience to remain seated in what would be their electric chairs. I would have not felt the same way as the other sheep if oysters never tried to poison her. He had what was his last stroke of humanity in him and let us leave only for briefly. I then ignored him again.
That marks the stoppage, to run, to please myself. It is a flowing thought, and it made me feel God had prepared me for an eternity in hell.
I caught a glimpse of it, two days ago, but it ain't no fiery land where lava flows freely through the cracks in the ground and the veins of the souls greedy for pleasure.
Indeed any pain that rushes through my veins is now simply pleasurable — fueling my want to just tie a rope and jump off of a chair.
One go.
One last breath.
Experiencing dread with it eventually gone is always more pleasurable than never experiencing it.
But before Jordan did the talking…
I don't know, I just wished it never happened.
Were you within his, err, I guess you could say his inner circle?
Kind of, yeah. Everyone is. Everyone was.
Did you often talk with each other?
No, no. I rarely did.
Have you been in any contact with him since the tragedy?
Recently, no.
Can you further elaborate?
Ever since I was in high school he hasn't talked much to me at least.
Your family's close to him, is that right?
Yeah.
How did the relation fade away? Was there a falling out or some kind of incident?
Not necessarily, but since dad passed away from cancer we haven't gotten much from him save for donations for Carney's tuition.
(his eyes bled like it never did, corroding the skin away like arsenic)
Jordan, if you're not comfortable with discussing we can end it now.
It's fine.
How are they? Your mom and brother?
They're good, yeah.
Quite a misfortune, ain't it?
(a cut in his heart opens up and juices cascades as he masks with a sewing of velvet)
Marshall and I have to take care for my mother for now. It just feels, I don't know, like your heart and guts pulled out and your universe being torn apart. Haha.
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TRANSITION 1
Author and Wikitext-er: SherlsF
SPaG Checker: NexnapThePhilosophist
* Background Image (Unsplash license), edited by the Main Author: "photo of brown wood slab" by Joel & Jasmin Førestbird.
* Images Contained in the Cover (Unsplash license), edited by the Main Author: "Butterfly in Winter" by Arpit Dhore and "Untitled Image" by Valeria Bukina.
* Image Contained in the credits section, edited by the Main Author: "Vintage Butterfly Illustration" posted by Julie J taken from a drawing of a butterfly in Nearer my God to Thee.
* Butterfly Logo (CC BY 2.0), edited by the Main Author: "Wings Butterfly Insect Antenna" by an unknown author.
* New York City Skyline Image (CC BY-SA 2.0), edited by the Main Author: "ScanImage60317021" by fsse8info.