Month Eight #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

DAY  TWO HUNDRED EIGHT

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

My destination seems no closer now than it did when I checked last night.

Of course, I do not quite have the energy I had before. But I don’t mind. It helps me to slow down in other matters that count.

Awoke twice when fireballs flashed overhead towards far distant places.

Paused, reflected.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Struck out before sunset to reconnoiter from the top of the dune. Saw two desirable destinations, what may be oases.

Chose the one that appeared closer.

Kept a slow but steady pace throughout the night.

Got up past midday to check my course. Satisfied.

Difficult to get back to sleep.

Wrote out this.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED NINE

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

No way to gauge my progress. The green patch had disappeared last night upon my setting out. I kept as straight a course as I could recall and was rewarded come the dawn with its reappearance. All of the high points in between must have been themselves in a trough.

Must trust more.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

The pebbles work. Almost forgot them upon starting last night.

Had set my bearing based on my sighting of the selected oasis. But with the morning light it had vanished. Pushed on in the daylight until it reappeared. The other oasis has widened its distance from the first.

Looks like I chose well.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The moon set early last night which left me to stumble in the dark thrice. Nothing serious except the last incident, when my clumsiness stirred up a nest of snakes. I fled and managed not to get bitten.

But I did have to stop and rest earlier than planned.

Hunger and thirst increase.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

Heard yapping and howling on my trek just prior to the moon setting. And the sounds of movement nearby, but saw nothing.

After that isolation set in. Notions that I am the sole living being left on this planet came to roost.

I shook them all off.

I know I am not alone.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED ELEVEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Heat and hunger impede my steps. Though the first diminishes as the night evolves.

Upon setting out I found a walking stick, or staff, as one might say, considering its size. It has been helpful. It’s strength has become mine. I poke in advance of me whenever the way appears treacherous.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

The gnawing in my stomach urges me on that I might forget it in other activities.

It returns full force when like now I rest from my march. But I must avoid the heat of the day and its draining affect on my remaining strength.

The oasis beckons from the horizon.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWELVE

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I thought I was hearing things, but then I realized it was only the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

I stood up and the roar died away. The silence of the night held the stars in place each step of the way.

I contemplated my dream and its assurances.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

Why I cannot see the other oasis now is a mystery to me. I probably should not be too concerned for it is not my destination, but I cannot escape the feeling that I am somehow connected to it.

I halted at one point in my transit and thought of Lyle.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTEEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

A struggle to get up last night. I did not want to. But I did. It would have been impossible without my staff.

Despite my plodding, I feel I covered a lot of ground. The green patch actually appeared closer today before I turned in.

Lifts my hope.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

Hazy. My mind is as hazy as the atmosphere between me and my goal.  And though fuzzy, I judge that the oasis is much closer and perhaps much bigger than hitherto believed.

I have to resist the temptation to abandon my plan and rush onwards.

Rely on patience.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED FOURTEEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The terrain has changed to a level expanse, running straight. (No place for a snake to hide and surprise the hapless passerby).

Studied my goal before closing my eyes. Made a decision. I shall drink the water that should be there, but I will continue to fast.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

The oasis looks to be only a day away, an easy day, given the even ground. So this time tomorrow I should be able to spit out my pebbles and put them away.

I have reached that point in my fast, when the hunger pains are gone.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED FIFTEEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I am at my green patch. Arrived well before the sun.

It is an oasis. No water yet, but I sense it in the air. I have much area to explore. And shall have to do that within the limits of my strength.

Now for rest.

     LATE MORNING

     Enough writes:

Energetic. Arrived early and pushed deep into the oasis. Found water and date palms. Left my pebbles there and sipped.

Followed a depression and found another pool. A stream flowed from it to another.

No lack of water.

This place reminds me of my walled courtyard.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED SIXTEEN

MORNING

     Lyle writes:

No food in this oasis. Not that it matters, for I am not released from my fast.

I have found water. Plenty.

And have been very cautious in its consumption.

I wonder where Enough is. I trust that all is well.

Grateful for where I am.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Dreams pursue me. They filled my night. And they have followed me into the daylight.

Can I remember any of them? No. Not to write out in any coherent manner. They are a strange mixture of the past, and dare I say? The future.

Perhaps soon.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

At times weakness weighs me down. But it passes.

Switching from nocturnal to diurnal, I toured around the whole oasis this morning just to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. I hadn’t.

I am content with my new “home.”

Waiting on the Spirit for direction.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Discovered another pool far from the others. Its water is brackish, fit more for bathing  than drinking.

My grimace after the first (and only) sip brought to mind my reaction to a something similar in one of my dreams.

That involved water also.

The same?

DAY  TWO HUNDRED EIGHTEEN

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Wakened out of a sound sleep by a thunderous explosion. I stood and looked up towards the moon. It appeared to be weeping. Flaming objects filled the sky, falling to the horizon.

Then I did wake up and realized it was all a dream.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Have decided it best to camp beside the first pool of water found on the first day in the oasis. Drink from the second. And pass the daylight hours in my special place of meditation.

Soak in the peace and quiet at all times.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED NINETEEN

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Hearing a rush of water, I ran to the pool, arriving just in time to see a jet of spray collapse. I made a mental note to return tomorrow to see if it repeats.

At that instant I sensed someone watching.

Saw nothing.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Was on the way to my special place when I heard a hissing. Looked to the ground. Nothing. Spun around. Nothing behind me either.

Once I entered my place, tried to put it out of my mind. It took longer than I wished.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I meant to check out that water fountain, but was sidetracked by a voice calling out my name. Thought it might be Enough calling for help.

But realized it was the wind and my imagination.

Must be wary of my weakened state.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Passed a meaningful day. Recalled a dream whose import became clearer as I mulled it over.

The future will be filled with confrontations. One after another. Day in day out.

And I will not be alone.

Lyle will help at every step.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY ONE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I reached the pool in time to see the fountain bubble to life. It must be a natural phenomenon. Its mist hung in the air. Its effect refreshing and invigorating.

Should I make this my daily habit?

Spring up, o well!

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Have been leaning into the presence of the Spirit from last evening until now.

Now need to move about to flex my muscles and work out the stiffness. And reflect on the many revelations.

And to prepare for the inevitable assault.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY TWO

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I spent time beside the waters and let the action of the fountain signal the end of my meditation.

I have much to consider and to plan for.

It is comforting to know I will be serving again with Enough.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Walked to the area beyond the brackish water. It was quite garden-like.

Its fragrances wafted over me. I was almost rendered unconscious.

Then the voice. I turned.

It was Stan’s.

I shook my head at him and ran away.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY THREE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

No sun this morning. In fact, what light there was, has diminished and gone out.

A storm is coming. But what kind?

As I throw myself in the lee of a palm I see a rising tide of sand.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Stan did not pursue me. Not physically. But his voice in my head gave me no rest until by force of will I cut it off.

Today he breathes threats against Lyle.

I intercede all day for my friend.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I was safe under my palm tree. All through the night.

The storm never blew through the oasis. Near as I can tell, it hopped over my green patch.

All is returned to normal. Continue in my devotions.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Sense the danger is past. And the calming silence gives way to the whispers of the Spirit.

He infuses strength and a knowledge of His promised presence even through the coming trials.

Linger long by the drinking pool.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY FIVE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Troubling visions in my wakeful hours. They mirror my dreams. I guess that makes them more sure.

We have much further to go. Many more places to visit. Many more people to see and to talk to.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

As this fast lengthens, realize the need to lessen my movements and exertions.

My world is shrinking. And it must be so. Through the eye of the needle.

It also means Stan may no longer be avoidable.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY SIX

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Much more time to be spent here before I move on in search of Enough.

Up in the wee hours investigating noises nearby.

I am convinced that something is trying to lure me beyond the oasis.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Move very slow now, even glacial as I walk from place to place. Soon I may not budge at all from my special place.

Another day gone by. And no Stan. Count my blessings. Three times.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The source of the noise has revealed himself.

Stan stepped out of the dark before morning. He carried food. Especially prepared for me. All I need do is follow him.

I told him to leave.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Vast stretches of water fill my dreams. Oceans. And I am viewing them from the deck of a ship.

An ocean voyage or two will be made in our future. But I wonder where to.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY EIGHT

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Stan stays on the periphery of my vision. A thoroughly nagging presence.

I try to ignore him. The Spirit helps. The challenge is to focus on His still small voice over Stan’s raucous bleating.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Woke early to watch the stars set. Somewhere over that horizon the sea awaits. But I know there is another in the opposite direction. Hence the dilemma.

Should we return from whence we came?

DAY  TWO HUNDRED TWENTY NINE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

I have not seen Stan nor sensed his presence since last night. I could hope that he has given up his attempts on me, but I know he only awaits an opportune time.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Peace is my daily portion. He fills me to overflowing. My food is to do that for which He has made me. I long to be about His business.

Soon and very soon.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The very atmosphere was oppressive until the turn of night to day. I thought that Stan was insinuating himself into my peace.

I should know better.

I need only whisper His name.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Pushed myself hard today. Made a tour around the whole oasis the better to plan for the end of my fast.

Carry an inventory of edibles in my head.

Wait with expectation.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY ONE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The splash of the fountain brought me out of my revery. All night, all morning I have been slipping between dreams and visions.

More and more I see a glowing mountain.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Scattered thoughts. Hard to focus. Need a drink of water.

Feel I should run away, but cannot.

Drowsy. Close my eyes and I am in a panic.

Couldn’t force myself awake.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY TWO

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The fountain sprang to life in the middle of the night and continues to flow and an overwhelming impression came over me that Enough was in trouble.

I am interceding.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

My fever, or whatever it was, broke this morning.

Much more steady in body and mind now.

Am feeling more invigorated having washed off the sweat of my torment.

Thankful.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY THREE

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

A sense of great relief and release floods over me. All must be well with Enough, wherever he is.

All is well, though the feeling grows – change is imminent.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Dreamed last night that I was standing at the edge of the oasis. The sun was rising, but so was a rock from the floor of the desert.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY FOUR

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

A low rumble brought me to my feet, but it was a momentary status. The following tremor threw me to the ground.

A mounting wave filled the horizon.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

My dream from yesterday is reality today.

Morning was late coming, for the massive rock became a mountain and blocked out the sun longer than one would think.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY FIVE

LATE MORNING

Lyle writes:

Troubling visions in my wakeful hours. They mirror my dreams. I guess that makes them more sure.

We have much further to go. Many more places to visit. Many more people to see and to talk to.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

The mountain rests a good way off. A strong desire within me longs to strike out for it immediately.

But the Spirit says, “No.”

I will obey.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY SIX

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

The way is very hard, and I am so tired. I do not think I am much past the first hill.

How can I go on?

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

I stare at the mountain all day long. And the more I look the closer it appears to me.

I see figures climbing towards the summit.

DAY  TWO HUNDRED THIRTY SEVEN

LATE MORNING

     Lyle writes:

Slept where I dropped last night. Awoke to the merry music of a mountain stream just yards away.

Drank and pressed on with renewed vigor.

     AFTERNOON

     Enough writes:

Saw Lyle stumble to his feet in the clear light of day.

Encouraged to see him continue on.

Wonder if he knows he’s not alone.

ON TO MONTH NINE

 

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