ClearView Writing

Peace looked down from his perch atop a deep green oak. Far in the distance he aspied a beautiful young woman, naked as the day she was created with her hair flowing freely in the breeze. She was staring in enthrallment at a snake who was talking to her in soft enticing tones. Slowly and tentatively she reached up to the laden boughs above her and plucked a ripened ruby apple from the branches of the emerald green leafed tree. Taking a deep yet tentative bite she chewed thoughtfully before walking back to her awaiting man.

Peace swore.

A snake which had speedily made its way up the path wound its way up the perfected tree beside Peace and morphed into the shape of a dishevelled man, dark haired with scars covering his hardened face.

“Ineffable my arse, Pay up” he said in voice deep and strong, but with what could only be described as a slight lisp.

Peace was a milder man by comparison, his mousey blonde hair covered a softly featured face, only the faintest trace of a line remained of his battle against the fallen angels. Even now though a faint scowl of anger crossed his eyes as he flipped a golden disk into his companions outstretched palm.

“Evil contains the seed of its own destruction” he muttered with about as much enthusiasm as a Tescos shelf stacker, working a bank holiday shift.

“Self destruction is where the fun begins” came a quick, jovial reply from the dangerous looking stranger.

“Hes giving them hell” noted the angel nodding at the towering pillar of fire in the dsitance, a voice booming over the heavenly landscape below.

“We are eagerly awaiting our first customer” smiled the man, and in a moment of self consuming flame he was gone.

The Angel of Peace looked down over the plains at the trudging couple, now hiding their perfect bodies with the foliage of the garden around them. As a thunderstorm broke out the ground shook as the haven around them was lifted into the skies above to become a refuge for those pure of soul. It was going to be a lonely few centuries.

It was a mistake, the angel mused thoughtfully, to count on ineffability.

—

Through the history of man the evils of the world have increased, wars started off as a neighbourly scuffle, then turned into fights involving tens, hundreds, thousands and then millions of casualties. Plagues spread across the globe, ending a multitude of lives. Insurance companies sprouted in every city of civilisation, coating the earths population with a thin layer of antagonised evil and hatred.

To the Angel walking through the streets it was as if every person had a coat of dark but transparent tar covering them. Some were more laden than others, dripping in a vile evil way and betraying their wicked deeds. Others had a faint shimmer, It was unfortunate that only the babies where pure and clean.

Shoulders sloped he walked into the city gardens, letting out a depressed sigh as he dematerialised the dog shit he had inevitably stepped in as soon as he had entered the litter strewn grounds.

Peace was wearing a finely tailored suit over his slumped figure, his downcast look fortunately offered him a degree of protection as he walked past the hiding muggers and pick pockets and villains, people who are going to commit suicide, they reasoned, rarely carried much money.

He sat down by the oil coated lake and shakily lit a cigarette, the people on this dump had finally got something right he thought as the nicotine hit his system. As a shopping trolley floated past, boyed with the bloated gas filled nappy bags a suave figure joined him on the bench and looked out at the vista of discarded objects.

The figure that had once been battle worn and blood-lusted had changed considerably over the years, gone were the scars and blue inked tattoos that had once covered his deep, intelligent face. Now his hair was slicked back, his face smooth and sharp and his dress sense impeccable.

“Evening”, he offered a cigar to his depressive compadre, who waved it away with his cigarette in hand.

“Theres rumours of a change coming up” he mentioned to Peace, attempting once more to break the gloom hung over the distraught figure.

“Armageddon, is what I’m referring to, end of the world, kinda big deal”

The angel let out a sob.

“It’s not the Armageddon, as far as I know” he replied through a voice cracking with emotion.

“God has just mentioned how depressed he has been getting with the whole Earth thing recently, the economic downturn has dropped his beach house value by half and his London pad suffered from a plague of locusts after he was retelling one of his stories over a few beers.

“You mean he’s Just going to jack it all in and start again?” The suave figures jaw dropped much further than any mans ever should, and the teeth in his mouth still had some rather distinctive points from the reptilian snake-like figure he had once been.

“Pretty much” replied the Angel

“Ever since he knocked up that carpenters wife he’s been a bit off his stride, I was walking past his office a few days ago and him and Jesus were having a flaming row, it sounds like Jesus wanted to return for the millennium but his dad put his foot down, said ‘Just because you happen to be the son of a deity doesn’t mean you can go showing off to the humans every couple of millennia, what would your Mother say?’”

“What did his mother say?” said the smarter figure, perking up at the gossip

Something about how he should get a proper job and move out of their heavenly abode, I think she is a bit sick of being stuck with the last remnant of her fling with God, I’m a bit worried about it all to be honest”

Tony Hazard took a pull on his cigar and rolled the smoke around his tongue. It was on reflection one of his poorer choices, when he first took the name hazard it was a new fresh word, meaning danger and excitement, battles and war. Now however the name brought to the mind images of road works and trailing wires in the office.

“What we need to do then”, said Tony, choosing his words with the care and attention that a man might use when talking to an armed robber with a machine gun pointing their way, or while talking down a man who has found himself on the ledge of a tall building after feeling a tad depressed recently

“Is to cheer God up.”

At first Peace laughed, then giggled, then started to sound a little hysterical.

“Cheer him up?!” he practically yelled.

“How do you cheer up God?! Take him to the cinema, tell him there’s plenty of fish in the sea, spike his food with Prozac?”

“Well, you could ask him if he fancies going out for a pint?”

Peace laughed “Yeah right, I’ll just take God out for a quick one after work will I, that’ll save the Earth “

—–

The waitress had a slightly glazed look on her face as she served drinks to a being who was somehow 6 feet tall and 100 feet tall simultaneously, who sat with a slight air of uncomfortableness in the dingy bar, rather like a tomcat who is taken out of his territory and is unsure as to the size of the local big boss.

Peace for the first time in his life was at a loss, the complete abject terror of being in a social situation with the ruler of the kingdom of heaven being similar to that of a young office worker finding himself alone at the bar with the CEO of the company.

The silence deepened in the smoke ridden room.

Jesus, who had overheard the earlier conversation of a possible excursion to a local tavern, had invited himself along and sat on the right hand side of God, quite bloody typical of the boy in Peace’s opinion. He now sat leaning back on his chair idly turning his tap water into a fine malt whisky.

“Tight arse” Peace thought to himself, who had somehow found himself buying the majority of the drinks that night.

He decided to make a break for conversation, anything to lift the smog of depressive silence covering the drinking of the despondent group.

“Weathers appalling for July isn’t it, I didn’t half get drenched walking down here.”

God Sighed

“Rains too much people complain about there being no sun, doesn’t rain much people complain about drought, what do they want, dry, invisible rain, who do they think I am?”

A deeper gloom settled over the table.

“Anyone for a game of Darts?” Jesus piped up, the other two nodded and got up, grateful for anything to take their minds off the silence. They negotiated a litter of tables and chairs till they reached an ancient box nailed lopsidedly to the cracking plaster on the wall.

After the first three rounds Peace began to get just a tad frustrated with the game. God and Jesus where getting constant 180 scores, God seemed bored by the game, an obvious glaze was over his deep set eyes, Jesus on the other hand was loving it.

“In your face Peace” he yelled as another dart struck home, forming a perfect line of three darts on the board. With a twirl he burst into dance, shaking his arse at Peace while singing obnoxiously.

“I’m winning, you’re a loser, gonna beaaattt you”

Peace suddenly thought how wise the Romans had been to crucify this man.

God tossed the three darts over his shoulder simultaneously as he gazed at the scantily clad girl on page three of the Sun, each one thunked home into the exact same triple twenty spots on the haggard dart board that Jesus’s darts had previously occupied..

Peace threw the first of his darts, it stuck in the door of the cabinet, the second one bounced out and the third landed just shy or triple twenty, in the triple one spot.

Jesus let out a baying laugh and slapped Peace on the back, before heading off to the toilets, weaving slightly around the ancient collection of bar furniture. With a slightly trembling lip Peace looked down to his stained white shirt, now matching the colour of his pina colada.

As he glanced over to God who was now in conversation with the Australian barman who was talking animatedly about his home country but with the slightly confused look of all mortals God had engaged in conversation. Over the sound of the bar Peace heard the drunkenly depressed words ‘but what’s life all about, really, when you get right down to it?’

Peace couldn’t help but muse to himself that things may be more serious than he had previously thought.

—

“Whats life all about, when you get right down to it?” repeated Tony again. “What kind of thing is that for God to say, Doesn’t he know?”

“Apparently not”, peace was feeling pretty distraught, the night before had ended in a kebab shop where the increasingly petulant Jesus had become bored of waiting, God decided to ‘let there be pizza’ and himself and the other patrons found themselves under an avalanche of pepperoni slices cooked to perfection in celestial boxes. It had taken twenty minutes to dig everyone out before the owners had chased all three of them down the street for ruining their nights takings.

Peace had woken up tied to a lamp post with Jesus Woz Ere humorously painted on his chest, it made him feel only slightly better to see that Jesus himself had tripped over a park bench and fallen asleep in his own vomit. God himself was nowhere to be seen, but he was rather well known for that so Peace wasn’t unduly worried.

He was after all still pretty damn concerned about Gods state of mind, never mind his location.

“Maybe we should take him out, over to a strip club or a casino, spice his life up with a bit of excitement” suggested Tony.

“Take him to a stripclub? I’m sure he’s a man who being omnipotent has no trouble seeing a woman naked, and what’s a casino to a man who always wins?”

“Sounds pretty perfect to me” Muttered Tony.

“It think” said Peace thoughtfully “That we may need professional help on this one”

Up in heaven things had taken a turn for the worse, Jesus was a gibbering wreck by the sudden turn of events and the angels of heaven where running around in a panic, preparing to search the globe.

God was missing.

No note, no warning, no out of office on his e-mail, he had infact just got up and gone.

When you are aware that you only exist because of the whim of one man then you pay close attention to what he is doing, if he’s gone then how long before everything else just disappears?

Peace arrived in heaven deep in thought about the plan he and Tony had concocted. It was only after he had been walking for several minutes that he noticed the hubbub surrounding him.

The reality started to sink in as he heard mutterings from around him, God was missing, was he dead? Was he trapped? Was the Armageddon upon us?

Peace remembered the Australian barman, the indepth conversation he had overheard, “best bloody place on Earth” he muttered under his breath “I’ll give him best bloody place on Earth”.

—–

John Forster had just hit his 40^th birthday and had celebrated it in the depressing way most Oxford birthdays are, spent with either incredibly weird or incredibly clever people, with very little in between He had the vague feeling he was starting to enter into his midlife crisis as he was experiencing sudden urges to buy a motorbike and a metal detector when previously he didn’t like to do anything more exciting than play a good game of chess Normally he avoided anything that involved bending over or heavy lifting due to a bad back he acquired in a skiing accident now however the urge to pick up a hobby, the first since his childhood, had overtaken him.

It had all kicked off quite suddenly when he realised that the crown of his head was beginning to go bald, not only that but his circle of friends seemed to have shrunk considerably since his youth.

This spurred him into action, he joined the golf club and now spent every Sunday socialising with the people there. He had joined several motorbike forums on the internet and began discussing what he was going to buy, even though he knew in his heart that his wife would never ever let him buy a motorbike.

The internet was a mistake, he had never really been at home around computers and he soon found that his lack of motorbike knowledge was shredded to pieces by the motorbike forum geeks, even though most of the people on there had never infact owned a motorbike, hell most of them weren’t even old enough to buy one.

John sighed, entered back into his office and looked down at the man already laying on the couch.

Two types of people went into psychiatrists, those who went because they wanted someone to complain to and those who actually needed help. Those who wanted to just talk about their problems went towards the sofa, some even laid back onto the sofa straight away. Others would chose the comfy chair, and sit there, back straight and nervous as hell.

The more they were relaxed the more likely they were going to be the complainers he hated so much, the more tense probably needed his help, and it was these who he really tried with.

The man lounging on his sofa, wait, more like insinuated into his sofa was a new client and yet he already looked like he owned the place. John found himself biting his tongue to stop him asking permission to sit down.

I need your help said the figure lounging in the sofa, I’ve heard you are one of the best.

John preened a little, it was true that he was highly regarded in many circles, but still the figure in the chair worried him. He began to realise that from behind the pair of dark sunglasses the stranger wore there was a feint red glow wavering in the dim light of his study..

“I know of someone who is very depressed you see” the figure continued.

John thought to himself, ahh the old ‘other person’ routine, best to break that one straight away.

“So why are you depressed?” John smoothly asked.

“Me? I’m a little depressed because in all likelihood the world is going to end soon, that’s why I need you to talk to God, the figure lifted his glasses to reveal eyes which were not flame coloured, the inside itself was actually on fire. “He’s feeling a little down with the state of affairs you see” descended on the slightly panic ridden ears of John.

—-

John and the stranger were sat in a small café overlooking a busy city street. The sun was bright on the crowded streets, people carried woven bags filled with fresh vegetables and baguettes

John didn’t exactly know where he was, they had walked for only a couple of minutes but he didn’t recognise this part of town, everyone seemed to be talking in French.

All in all he was in a bit of a daze, after 10 minutes of pure panic, trying to escape from inexplicably locked doors, diamond hard windows and continuingly solid walls he had finally given up, passed out and then re-awoken in a much more relaxed state of mind before being led towards the café.

“Never been to this part of town” he mentioned, looking around with genuine interest.

The dark figure was looking at his watch distractedly “really? I find this is one of the prettier areas of Marseille” before glancing back at his watch.

John’s eye twitched a little, he was fairly sure things like this were not meant to happen in Oxford, it was after all one of England’s most popular tourist cities, if the French had started stealing the city he was sure the local council would raise some kind of complaint.

It was ten minutes later of high pressure silence before a dishevelled figure walked through the door and sat with the pair.

Sat might have been an overstatement, the figure slumped, slouched and slipped until he was barely visible above the tabletop.

“Its worse, the slouched figure said”

John could not help but notice the new arrivals eyes were a deep blue, they reminded him of the sea feel himself being drawn into those eyes with a warm caring compassion. He closed his eyes just in time and pulled himself back.

“Gods missing, the slouched figure replied, apparently he has been gone for a day now, nobody has seen him.”

“Where!?” Tony cried at once.

“….Australia” Peace slowly said after a slightly rather than dramatically necessary pause.

Tony put his head in his hands, John just looked a little dumbfounded, completely unable to grasp what in the blazes was happening around him. He giggled slightly.

“Who’s the bloke?” Peace said without much enthusiasm

Tony, with the look of a man who has just found out every family member, friend and associate has suddenly dropped dead let out a small groan “This guy is the shrink I found, the best you can get at the moment, goes by the name of John Forster”

John automatically held out is hand for the shake, his glazed unseeing eyes however showed that this man was currently as mentally stable as an insane asylum being invaded by purple monkeys and flying elephants.

Peace went over to the grease stained counter, found internationally in cheap café’s around the world. The faux wood surface that had been scored lightly by the coffee trays of decades supported by plastic panels coloured to look like marble. The display of slightly aging produce held gaudily up against the window had started to moulder slightly under the burning heat lamps held above the long ago fried produce.

“Skinny latte please” he said to the begrudged girl behind the counter, who somehow heard the words in perfect French, though her ears protested their disagreement. With a slightly confused look on her face she customarily spat into the jug as per the French trading regulations concerned with serving the English.

“So why Australia?” Tony queried his friend, now sipping warily on the coffee that had arrived

As he walked with the two well dressed but decidedly strange and opposing gentlemen he had noticed yet again that they had somehow slipped from the paved streets of Marseille into the cobbled Oxford snickleways without any noticeable change. The men talked of subjects that had flown over his head, not because he didn’t comprehend the subjects of their discourse but merely because his mind could not grapple with what was being conferred.

He entered into his well loved study alone and sunk into a large leather antique chair that adorned his private study. As he sank into it his mind began to go over the events of the day, could it be possible that these men had brought in a psychiatrist to council God? Even worse could it be that there is a God and he had infact disappeared?

How do you find an omnipotent all powerful being if he does not want to be found?

For the first time in a long time, John Prayed.

God looked down on his creation, and saw that it was good.

The Burger lay perfectly central in the bun, the salad arranged so none would come spilling out covering the customer in limp vegetation covered in ketchup and the bread itself was lightly toasted to give it a slight firmness.

He could change his perspective from the tiniest atom to a galaxy in the blink of an eye, yet in this kitchen in this restaurant he was left with the simple task of creating foodstuff designed to please only one man.

No one whined, no one complained, he could sit back and give people what they wanted without worrying about repercussions. With a deft gesture he flicked a thin circle of burger sauce over the top of the salad and firmly pressed the top bun onto his formation and smiled.

That was until the manager walked in.

The manager was 27 and full of self importance. The fact that he was still in the same position he was at the tender age of 19 obviously grated across his nerves as he made everyone else’s life a misery to compensate for his own inability to progress through life. As he walked into the room he shouted with venom at a young girl who was frying up some chips about the state of her attire and then turned to God.

God had very little experience of being shouted at, and the Manager knew this, he was having some confusion about what the man actually looked like, but he would be damned if he had spent 8 years of his life in the fast food cuisine catering industry to be imposed upon by one of his underlings.

“You there” he bellowed at God, what in gods name is taking you so long, who do you think you are, a gourmet chef, an artiste or maybe just a flamin’ bludger.”

God turned to him, never before had he been spoken to in this way, as he turned to the man filled with vengeance and ready to smite the man down with a furious bolt of lightning he felt the instinctive droop of shoulders, the tightening of the larynx and the slight well of emotion that comes from being told off from a superior.

“S’rry sir” he mumbled

“What was that?!” yelled the manager, oblivious to the fact that the trembling figure infront of him had lightning crackling around his fingers.

“S’d s’rry sir, will be quick’r n’xt t’me sir”

“You better be!!” Screamed the manager, before storming off to abuse a lanky young college student who had started the previous week.

With a sigh God picked up the bun, threw it into the Big Mac box and sent it sliding down the metal cute towards the tills. He was beginning to wonder why he bothered.

It was at this point when God felt the prayer. He was used to prayers, and how to ignore them. But this one was different, it was not a cry for help, nor a dream for fulfilment. It was somebody praying to help God himself.

Things may have been simpler if it was not for the manager hitting him over the head with a bag of bread rolls and telling him to quit slacking, bringing humanity one step closer to annihilation with one well timed swing of bakery produce.

The Angel and Demon stood overlooking the barren wastes around them. In the shimmering distance Sydney could be seen glistening like a murky opal, un-pure yet glistening in the midday haze.

Tony sat down upon the lightly cooked log like animal that had recently attacked Peace and gazed out at the distant city. Peace on the other hand was more preoccupied with tending his wounds, so far he had been attacked by crocodiles, spiders, snakes and a surprisingly vicious Koala. None of this was improving the mood of Peace, who’s suit now hung around him dripping with sweat. Tony on the other hand was in a t-shirt and shorts, sporting a large brimmed hat festooned with dangling cork bottles. Much to the annoyance of Peace this ridiculous addition seemed to keep of the flies which incessantly followed him around whether he was sat in shade or full sunlight.

The dejected figure of Peace raised his head “We have checked the small towns, the out and out areas, even Ramsay Street, Sydney is the only place left. If he is not here we are screwed”

“Agree with you there my friend” sighed Tony, “We can’t search the world over mate.”