A Portrait of Tragedy (Chapter 4)

A PORTRAIT OF TRAGEDY

  Chapter 4: Near Ending

  By

  J. Niessen

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  Published By:

  A Portrait of Tragedy

  Copyright 2013 by J. Niessen

  Cover Page by J’s Art Emporium, Copyright 2013

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  Table of Contents

  Heading

  Chapter 4: Near Ending

  Footing

  Chapter 4: Near Ending

  After sharpshooting each guard on the grounds, where the locator device is presumed to be, Lace meets with the barterer of fine goods. In possession of something not your own, that item burdens conviction, even to the unsaved (Romans 2:15).

  Cordial in presentation, Phillips speaks in a southern accent as the two meet in his parlor:

  “I have a proposition for you…” Col. Diamond Phillips boasts. He pauses to cut open the back sheet of a framed painting, revealing a stash of diamonds. Lace silently questions whether they’re genuine, or if the stones have been staged to bolster a false ambiance in their value. They’re cloudy, not dazzlingly clear like the diamonds of his era. Some of the crystals spill off the Col.’s hardwood desk and onto the floor. Lace crouches down, offering to pick them up, making him vulnerable to lethal attack as Diamond Phillips keeps a long sword on his desk.

  There are a variety of aspects that can detail the event of taking one’s life. Dispatching the guards leaves little burden on Lace’s conscience. The watchmen defend the estate with murderous intention, having killed trespassers in the past through dedicated servitude to their master. Those who brandish the sword will die by the sword (Matthew 26:52).

  Another type of murder is one by accident, when the killing occurs unintentionally.

  Col. Diamond Phillips has exercised intentional violence numerous times, bringing such action against ones who are defenseless. Each victim of his has suffered a senseless fate.

  Lace is uncertain of the history behind the shown product, and reserves judgment. As a dealer in rare merchandise, his host uses metals and gemstones as currency. In this instance Lace learns of another form of barter, and a varied form of murder, used to entertain as sport.

  Lace stands upright, unharmed. Had an undermining act occurred, aimed at incapacitating Lace, it would have been thwarted by an overseeing angel. The demons dwelling in this manor are bound by the angelic [slaves] (described as such because of the garments they wear and the appearance the angels have taken on) here with Lace, on his conquest to find the lost locator. They are a select bunch, gathered before Lace’s departure from New Metropolis.

  (Caro Mio Ben plays quietly in the background of the parlor.) (Skip the ad to hear it.)

  “Able individuals must go to the province of Veigh Van,” Phillips declares with southern hospitality, presenting cool refreshments. “There you’ll find the fancy scoundrel who’s acquired the apparatus you seek.” Phillips’ cheer drops, his face stern, with a piercing stare when placing down the sipped beverage. “This intelligence does not bode cheap, however! In exchange you shall become my ni-gga, should I capture you before your set arrival, 3 days out. I offer half a day’s head start. Understanding that my authority is indisposed at the moment.” Lifting a long sword from off the desk, Diamond Phillips holds the blade to Lace’s throat, “the task will not be so lax, when attempting to overcome my convictions in the near future.” Phillips’ unfavorable disposition dampens the parlor with a chilling, uninviting appeal. “You are trespassing, and discontinued from parley. Make way at once, as I am anxious to have the hounds of my estate released.” Phillips’ eyes shift, locating these demons in their state of detention held by Lace’s gang of angels. The sword’s edge glows red, sizzling Lace’s neck with a deliberate scalding.

  Animosity. Anger. Anxiety. These attributes misguide a person’s focus. Here Lace stares down the challenge of such emotional obstacles. Dwelling on these feelings transpires personal vendettas which waste time, energy, and worthwhile motivation. Despite our best efforts, we can never solely aspire to pacify said worries. To conclude these evils we must place them in Jesus’ hands. “Cast all your cares upon Him, because He cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).”

  The burn to Lace is aimed to cause retaliation. Col. Diamond Phillips holds a trained philosophy: instigating negative emotions rewards one with strict advantage. Such men are told of in 2 Timothy 3:1-9. They push humanity’s limits, with a suicidal mindset and irreverent disregard for life. The colonel’s unsavory character is carefully masked by a dexterous façade of proper etiquette and elevated sophistication, meshed with the glitz of his possessions. Despite their exotic riches, no comfortable abode awaits these faithless miscreants…after life. Their worldly existence is miserable; nothing brings such men lasting satisfaction. Rather than managing their own depression, they seek to degrade the morality and wellbeing of others, pushing their opponent’s boundaries, cornering rivals, and creating hostile situations requiring submission or backlash. So what’s to happen when roles reverse--and the instigator relents?

  This sword held at Lace’s neck has been used to slay many Followers of the Way. The unpaid cost in the taking of their lives must be resolved for those pleading for atonement (Luke 18:7-8) & (Revelation 6:10). With conviction Lace reprimands, “Why would you point such a weapon at me?” he inquires to incite shame.

  “This blade will burn deeper, Sir, if you do not depart my property at once.”

  “Having killed before does not make what you are about to do acceptable. Your regret is displaced.” In a calming voice Lace assures, “I have not come seeking you harm. You know this is truth. Relinquish the blade so that we can place this dispute behind us.”

  “When your throat is opened--be mindful not to seep and stain my exquisite desk, Sir.” Phillips’ conviction wanes. Lace is getting through. The slightest sign of weakness will offset Lace’s surmounting control. There is a new trace about, clueing to his rival’s relent, hinting toward reticent vengeance. A warning in Lace’s head gives sudden alarm. In the atmosphere is an alternate and abrupt shift! “LOOK OUT!” a voice cries from inside Lace’s head.

  A monstrous giant plows through the room’s entranceway, smashing the support beams to the grand doorway. It quakes the very foundation of the house. Lace looks to find that all the household spirits, even those there to defend him, have vanished. The steel instrument Diamond Phillips has a hold of thrusts forward. The blade becomes fine with the tingling sensation of a thousand needles prickling Lace’s skin. The sword’s composition miraculously disintegrates. A horrible roar comes from the furious giant as it stomps closer. The weapon has become grainy, phasing out of Diamond Phillips’ control. Lace responds by reaching for the falling particles. There the shards of metal bond with his hand. With a swift swipe the reshaped blade cuts through the entirety of Phillips’ neck. />
  Beneath the giant’s trample, Philip’s body crunches and excretes a vile ooze. The giant’s feet demolish the hardwood desk, boosting the heavy on-comer into the air as Lace recedes, preparing for attack. Lunging beyond the sword’s reach, the monster’s grotesque weight expands in mid bound, redefining its stature. The heavy mass of its gut distributes to the build of its torso and largely forming tail. Its thick legs shrivel, dangling from out front. Its lower body reverts to the form of a powerful serpent.

  Following the creature’s profound landing, Lace aims to bludgeon the towering monstrosity by lunging with weapon in hand. A dark vortex forms at the mid-point of his target. Lace realizes his folly for taking on this challenge without convening with his Sifu. The horror’s stomach is a gaping orifice, engulfing the metal instrument with corrosive energy, and inflicting Lace’s arm with crippling pain. He nearly loses both to a fierce chomp of the monster’s bite. The creature swings with powerful claws, almost shredding Lace’s soft facial flesh.

  Orchestrated by this ancient foe, flexing in rage, is a surmounting chorus of wails from the souls of those who died on these grounds. Their cries broadcast from a crown