Bring Glory(Us) Life

Chapter 1- With Open Arms

        God’s eye shone bright in the clear blue sky, casting warm light upon the earth, nurturing the blooming life of spring. The scents of new flowers impregnated the moist air; birds flew in the sky; people smiled and laughed. It truly was a glorious day to die.

        The boy with the sad gray eyes stared down at the ground far, far below, his short dark hair blown back by the wind. His bare toes curled nervously over the edge of the building, knocking tiny bits of stone down, down, down ten stories of brick walls and dusty windows to the empty pavement below. The streets were empty in this part of town where aspiring artists set up shop in abandoned warehouses and old factories. No one would stop him here.

        A strong gust of wind buffeted the slender teenager. He staggered away from the edge, butterflies dancing in his stomach as he tried to embrace his fate. Closing his eyes, he saw the jeering faces, he father’s frown, his mother holding his sister, eyes full of a love not easily given. Fisting his hands, he stepped forward, arms spread wide, and let go.

            He imagined falling, falling, soaring down like an eagle, until it was over. He would lie there, beautiful in crimson, laid bare to the cruel, unforgiving world. And it would be glorious. The pain would finally stop. No more school, no more friends, no more family; he would be free at last.

        God’s eye shone bright in the clear blue sky, illuminating the slender figure, tipped forward over the ledge, reaching for His embrace. But the birds did not sing, and there was no laughter, only the sad moan of an ancient furnace down below, singing a sad ballad to the troubled boy in the sky.

        From below the plants seemed to cry and wilt with grief, their stems spread to catch the radiant figure above, outlined in gold, eyes shining like an angel. A lonely tom cat raised his voice in sorrow, letting the mourning wind carry it to the dimming soul above. From a building across the street a piano spilled sorrowful music to the air on the unknowing fingers of its master.

        The boy felt himself gracefully fall forward, gravity pulling him down. Sparkling droplets fell from his eyes, shimmering through the air to light the way. A great weight lifted from him; he felt as light as a feather, ready to dance to the beat of life until it was no more.

        He was ready.

        For some, fate is predetermined. Others take fate into their own hands and pave their own path. But for one, fate seized him by the back of the belt and dragged him onto a new path, tossing him into the fire to be tempered and recast as a new man.

        Lachlan Barclay was ready to die. And as he cast himself to his doom, a strong hand grabbed the back of his black leather belt and hauled him onto the roof, to tumble and land prostrate on the gravel, staring into the shining emerald eyes of a stranger.

        “I’m so glad I got here in time,” the woman said, winded, a big smile on her youthful face. She was a short, slight, delicately built woman in her early twenties, with long red hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had only one arm; a small stump was all that remained of her right appendage.

        “Wh-why did you do that?” Lachlan stammered, coming out of his daze. The woman helped him to his feet, her single hand strong on his shoulder.

        “I was so worried I wouldn’t make it in time. I saw the way you walked over here, and I knew you would do something you wouldn’t have time to regret. I’m so glad I stopped you. You shine with so much potential.” The boy stepped back, confused and angry.

        “Well, it's none of your business; I’ve never even seen you before. Get away from me, you creep!” he cried and ran for the stairs, his moment ruined. When he reached the bottom, he looked up at the roof where he could make out the silhouette of the strange woman, watching him go. Turning, he ran away, back to civilization and the land of reason. Back to his world of pain.