The Rose of Erasmus

A story of a man who wanted nothing more then to die. Erasmus the man, would die as he wished, but his death was intervened with. It is a story of Good vs Evil.

                            

The Rose of Erasmus

The Village

LaBushette was no different from most any other village I suppose.  It was small and rather sparsely populated. The village has not changed much through the years according to the villagers, they seemed to endeavor to make that so. Like most small villages, it was not without its legends. I'm not sure how, or why legends come to be. I suspect they start when something happened long ago, that was never rationally explained, or at the very least, has two possible explanations.

 

In their village, it is not difficult to realize the origin of the legend, its fabric stems from the (Two Possible Explanations) theory. Visiting and talking to the townspeople, depending on whom you have spoken to, you will hear the recounting of both possibilities. One possibility was, it actually occurred, the other, would be a gross distortion of facts, mixed with rumor. Like most legends though, they usually have some basis in fact. 

 

To this day if you were to visit this small village, there still stands in the square, a figure carved from limestone. The statue did not fair well through the years, the soft limestone was no match for the years it had stood. You could however, make out some detail of a man, but at the base of the memorial were the unmistakable letters that spelled out, 
E R A S M U S.
After the name there was a faint impression, it was not clear what it once was, but it appeared to be the impression of a rose.
Following that, were four numbers, 1 7 2 4.

 

I remember first looking at the marker, and wondering why there was just one date. Obviously, it was not a burial place, if it were; it would have had two dates. I suspected it was one of the village founders, why else?

 

I have listened to the recounting of the legend from the villagers with what I thought to be an open mind. To be sure, they all knew of it, some say it was a blessed event, others say it was demonic possession. One constant on either side of the legend could not be denied; the eternal struggle between good and evil.

 

The legend suggests that the man's death was intervened with. Death usually comes to us without interference, such, according to the villagers, was not the case for Erasmus.

On very rare occasions, death is not just an uncomplicated, random occurrence, sometimes there is intervention! When Erasmus’s death was imminent, he was visited; to that, everyone agreed, and most agree that it was Evil that visited. However, others contend it was Devine intervention in its most compassionate form. Some say that the Devil tried to steal from God, that which was Gods. After listening to the villagers, and visiting the site where the legend had its origin, it was obvious to me that something did take place there. I am not sure which side of the argument I accept, or believe, but I do believe there is enough basis in fact to support their legend.

 

This incident took place over two hundred years ago. It centered on a man, and his obsessive desire for death. He had suffered his entire life; there was no will inside him to go on with his life, such as it were. He would have very much welcomed death, but according to the legend, the approaching death was not what he expected it to be.

 

Records were certainly scarce from over two hundred years ago, mostly a few deeds or large land purchase records were still in their hall of records. There were however two very important records that were preserved, both of which referred to Erasmus. One was the coroners report, and the other, oddly enough was the original invoice for the carving of the limestone statue. I suspect these were kept because at the time, the villagers knew something extraordinary took place. These would later prove to be invaluable to me as I investigated their legend.

 

This man who lived in the year seventeen hundred and twenty four, was racked with the physical pain, as well as the mental anguish of leprosy. Since the passing of his parents, both of whom died of the same infliction, which now ravished their then only son; he chose to exist in isolation, ashamed of his appearance, and very close to death. 

The Legend

The Room

Through the years, his room had become more of a sepulcher in the making, rather than a home to him. Moonlight, finding its way through tightly drawn and tattered curtains, cast lifeless shadows on the walls.  Next to his bed stood the diminutive remains of a flickering candle, it too created shadows. Shadows that danced in a rhythmic pulsating way, adding a surreal look to the room. It was as though the room were gasping its end. The fading candle seemed almost symbolic as it neared its end. Death was at hand, and he would never need to light another, and it was in this, that Erasmus found his solace.

 

His home was a simple decaying one-room cottage, standing just outside the village. You could not see the house from the village; a small hill separated the two. When you ascended the hill from the village side, it was a beautiful walk through wild flowers, baby's breath, and heather. Once you have reached the summit however, and gazed down at his home, it was as though life had ended there on the crest. It was barren land as you looked down, completely void of flowers. The ground had a scorched look to it, as though life itself had no business being there. 

As you glanced downward toward the house, it had a certain forbid ness to it. It was as though God had touched it in anger, much the way he touched Babylon. It causes one to reflect on two verses from the Book of Kings.

 

The time will surely come when everything in your palace, and all that your fathers have stored up until this day, will be carried off to Babylon . Nothing will be left, says the LORD.

"It was because of the LORD's anger that all this happened to Jerusalem and Judah , and in the end he thrust them from his presence."

 

The house itself gave no indication of being inhabited. The windows were encrusted and frozen in place by time. Windows that once brought life in now sealed it out. His door also displayed its neglect. A door his father had spent countless hours with gnarled hands, crafting it from left over floor planking. The doorknocker completed his father's efforts; it was a simple brass ring that clapped down against an iron plate. It was put up in haste, his father knew it would see little use; no one ever crossed over the hill.

 

A door that once stood proud now had hinges that were loosely nailed; the wood had become weathered beyond repair, and the iron plate has long since fallen off. The cheerful yellow paint of the shutters had long ago peeled off as well. This house that had seen the passing of his parents, was now finding closure of its own.
His house was dying, just as Erasmus was dying.

 

Outside his door stood as an introduction of what one might expect to find inside his home. A garden that once bloomed with a beautiful assortment of fragrant flowers, and a rock garden with stones once set meticulously in place, were now nothing more than rotted twigs and broken stones. Many years ago, his mother had spent countless hours in this garden. Through her own painful infliction, she still managed to enjoy the beauty in the things around her. A rose she always believed, was the embodiment of a soul, so it was a symbol of Divine Beauty. It was only a few paces from there, that she buried her husband Jacob. It was where she found her own escape; she too, was laid to rest there. This is where Erasmus was destined to take his place as well.

The Man

Erasmus was born in the year 1644, in the year of his death 1724 he was eighty years old. His childhood was an isolated one, not because of Erasmus, but rather due to his parents, both of whom had Leprosy. Children were told to avoid him in the fear of “catching something” his parents had. Erasmus did not display the outward signs of leprosy as a young child. Although Erasmus was denied the friendship of other children, he was a happy child. He had a loving mother and father, and enjoyed the time he spent with them.

His father would teach him wood working crafts, and his mother taught him to enjoy the things around him. Ironically, both of his parents were losing the things they loved due to their infliction with Leprosy.

 

Now, eighty years after his birth, Erasmus lay there in his bed, still isolated. He thought very little about whether it was day or night. Light or dark outside made little difference to him. His days always started the same way, waking up with pain and anger, angry that he lived to endure another day. His nights were an endless search, always seeking elusive sleep.  He likened sleep to a temporary death where he was free from this hideous life of his. If only his sleep would last forever!

 

This frail, physically exhausted, white haired old man had thoughts of only one thing, freedom. Freedom was how he perceived death. Freedom from the pain that was endless and freedom from the humiliation of his own grotesque body. How very long he had waited for this moment. His lasting sleep would soon be upon him.

He thought many times to himself;
‘If only I had the courage as a child to stop what was to be.’ He thought often of the irony and the sorrow, of living with only thoughts of dying.

He had seen his parents suffer this fate, a fate he now shared. A life filled with abysmal pain, and the terrible psychological abuse they had to suffer from those around them because of their appearance. This was their un-wanted legacy to him. More than once in his loneliness he had shouted "Coward!"  no one but himself heard it, it was directed at himself. How little he thought of himself because of his lack of courage.

 

His mother spoke to him of a God when he was very young, perhaps only four or five years of age. He did not remember much of what he was taught other than this God was a kind God, and somehow watched over us. He was taught it was a sin to take your own life, he did not truly understand then, what sin was, except that it was a bad thing. He wondered many times after that, what was bad, and what was good. His life was bad, was it bad to stop a bad thing? He grew to hate this God for letting his life go on.

 

Although Erasmus lived outside the village, how many times he wished he had lived even further. At night, he imagined he could hear their laughter coming from just over the hill, he imagined it was he they were telling stories about and laughing.

’They mocked and laughed at me, even in my absence,’ he thought.

 

As he lay there, he knew the time has at last arrived. His vision was almost totally gone now, he could only see shadows of things. His hearing had diminished as well. He would finally find serenity, and would be free from the wretched life he had endured. To him, death would be a very welcome, long awaited visitor.

 

‘Why go on?’ he questioned himself.  ‘I’ve never understood a smile, and I know not, the beauty of a rose. Surely those things cannot exist, and if they do,’ he uttered with vengeance, ‘surely they are the working tools of the Devil!’  Strange he wondered; that there is no beauty in this world other than death. 
‘At last! I will know beauty! Come, come to me‘ he whispered, ‘embrace, and caress me, let me feel your gentle touch.’

 

Over and over again, in perfect symphony with the flickering candle, he heard his whispered words echoing.
‘Embrace, and caress me........... Embrace and caress me.’ It was at that moment he heard a sound……… A sound he hadn't heard in a very long time……… A tapping!

The echoing words stopped, the candle smoldered its end.

’Was someone tapping at my door? How can this be, why should this be?’ Erasmus sobbed. ‘Why cannot I enjoy this one moment of beauty alone? I have paid my entire life! Why must there be humiliation even in this?’

 

He looked about himself, and was unsettled with the fact that the mere knowledge of a possible visitor could bring life to his lifeless surroundings.  Everything in his room seemed……seemed as though he was seeing it for the very first time. 
’Was my father’s picture always crooked?’ he dismayed.  ‘Was the rug always torn and tattered? Am I now too, to suffer the indignity of my surroundings as well?’

 

"I am aware," he said,…… “I am aware and feel shame!”

 

‘Was life so merciless and cruel as to have me feel awareness, and shame even in this, my final moment?’

 

As the old wooden door slowly pushed itself open, as though being pressed by a gentle breeze, he felt frightened. He felt exposed to the world that was always just outside his door. To him, this door had been his guardian between two worlds, both worlds had pain, but one was without the accompanying ridicule of the villagers.

 

Outside was a world he had seen very little of. It was a world where people were cruel; they mocked him and avoided gazing in his direction. Now, as he was very near to finally finding peace and freedom in his own death, that world outside had come to his door. They would deny him even this, the wishes of his final moment, his lasting sleep alone.

‘I have known tears all my life, they shall perish with me, come quickly death, come quickly to me, least I suffer more from visitors seeing me on my death bed.’ Erasmus pleaded.

 

As the door opened to full swing, he looked upon the figure standing in his doorway and strangely, he no longer felt afraid. He felt his face transforming into what he understood to be a “smile.” He was unsettled with this anomalous expression. It was one he had never experienced before, but Erasmus’ fears began to subside.

The Visitor

 

It was as though he knew this robed visitor was to be a friend. That this figure would show him, no, it would more then just show him,….. it would give him life! A life without pain and humiliation! It would take away his want to die. The visitor has given him the knowledge of a smile, surely, he would need no more, but there would be more. The Visitor would resurrect his wretched body, and show him the way though his own door.

 

This very door that had been his only friend, and enemy alike. He had talked to this door, he had cursed this door, and he had worshipped this door. This door had protected him, yet also stood ready to expose him as being as he was.

As the man lay there, his eyes were fixed on the Visitor.
 
"Is that you God?" the man asked almost rhetorically in a voice that was barely more then a whisper. There was no answer.

 

As the Visitor passed through the doorway, he slowly approached the man’s bed. The man could feel the pain that had ravaged his body for too many years, slowly subsiding with each step the visitor took towards him. The man could feel his wretched body relaxing, though it was more like willfully submitting to the Visitor. The man wanted this pain to stop, and it did.. His body had become rigid and tense through the many years of pain that no man should have had to endure, even for a moment.

The Visitor had a beautiful angelic glow that radiated from his body, it filled the room with brilliant colors. Colors that were vivid and striking. Most remarkably of all, they were clear. There were no shadows of things anymore. His vision was pristine now. He could feel the air enter his lungs, lungs that were previously all but useless, allowing only shallow breaths, just barely sustaining his life such as it were. 

The Visitor extended his hand; Erasmus studied the hand for a brief moment. It was compelling. He slowly lifted his own hand and reached for the Visitors hand. As they touched, the man could feel every part of his body come alive. He was aware of every bone and every muscle. It felt as though somehow, the past was being drawn out of his body, yet it was more than that, it was a rebirth of his body, mind and soul.

For a brief moment, he recalled a man his mother once told him of. He was a man called Lazarus, and how he was resurrected from death. He wondered if he himself had died, and was now seeing God. He did feel as though he were born again, born again without the incessant pain. His vision was clear, his hearing restored, he was without pain, and he felt a rejuvenated life in his body.
"Have I been resurrected?"

With each passing day, Erasmus's body grew more responsive. He found himself able to do, and see things that he hadn't done for far too many years. Things he had not witnessed with any appreciation since his childhood. He was now able to once again hear the cheerful song of singing birds. He could see the sunrise fill his room in the morning. He could hear the wind whispering through the trees. How much he enjoyed these simple things that had become only a memory to him over the years.

 

Erasmus the man, has truly found the beauty in life that he had once denied existed.

The visitor stayed on with Erasmus, bestowing upon him all the dreams he had abandoned long ago. Beautiful things he once believed to be the tools of the Devil. Strange, though he wondered. Why, the more I enjoy and appreciate the significance and the beauty of my life, the more I fear this Visitor? The more I grow afraid of him? The more I grow a servant to him.  Why?

 

Erasmus's suspicions grew stronger with each passing day, but so too, did his appreciation for the Visitor, and the gift that was given to him, this gift of life. The suspicion and the appreciation grew in direct proportion to each other. As one grew stronger, the other did as well. Was there a price to pay for this happiness? This suspicion was now causing great fear in Erasmus.

Erasmus spoke to the Visitor. "I’m sorry I shudder with fear when I stand in your presence, I know not why. Was it not you that had picked me up from my sickness, and restored me to health? Have you not shown me “The Beauty of a Rose?”… Yet I fear thee; strange…… yet I fear thee!" There was no answer. The Visitor simply placed his hand very slowly on Erasmus's shoulder.

 

Erasmus continued, “Before you blessed my home with your visit I thought only of death, and the beauty I might finally find with it, but you have shown me the beauty in many things. You have made me aware. Forgive me, but with this awareness I find also that I fear thee!” The Visitor said nothing, but feeling the gentle touch on his shoulder, Erasmus felt comforted, and spoke no more of it.

Erasmus did not want to dwell on these feelings; instead, he wanted to do something he had wished to do, for a very long time. He wanted to walk outside his door, yes, this door that had kept him safe, yet imprisoned all his life. He wanted to visit the village. He wanted the people to see that he was, as they were. That he was no longer like his parents were. He didn't want to imagine their laughter any longer. Erasmus was touched by God, and now stood as a man!

He found his shoes that were hidden away, thinking he would never have use of them again. He dressed quickly, filled with the boyish excitement of going to a county fair. As he stepped outside through the doorway, he paused for a moment. Such beauty! The magnificence of it all was overwhelming to his senses. He could smell the fragrance of flowers. Honeysuckle that once hung heavy in the air when he was a child, now filled the air again. The fields were filled with a pallet of beautiful colors. He marveled at the sky, so blue, with snow white clouds that seemed to have been painted perfectly in their place. He walked a little further. He paused again for a moment. 

Erasmus leaned over and slowly, as though not wanting to cause it harm, he picked a rose. Erasmus felt he had never seen anything so beautiful before. He pressed the Rose to his chest. Its fragrance was one that reached deep into his soul, it filled an emptiness that longed to be filled. Erasmus felt the Visitor had taken something from his body that day along with his pain, and the rose has filled the void. At long last he finally, totally understood the beauty of a Rose.

 

As he walked down the path towards the village, he felt the warm summer breeze on his face. A face he no longer had to hide in shame. Then he experienced the best part of all, NO ONE stared at him.. No one turned away. They simply smiled at him and bid him good morning, he was now, as they were. They accepted him as being just another villager, which pleased Erasmus.

Erasmus thought back to the days when he was a young man. His infliction was obvious by that time, but not beyond hiding it to some degree. He would steal into the village in the early morning, covering as much of his face, and body as he could. His parents would send him there to do the errands; they had by that time, become, too disfigured to conceal their hideousness. Nor were they able to make the walk to the village any longer. This time for Erasmus, it was different; he drew no attention. No one that is, but to one man. This man peered at him with distrust and suspicion! This man shouted at him and spat at him. This man told Erasmus that he lived with the shadow of Death in his house!

Erasmus did not understand why this man would say such a thing. He walked away from the man, and continued to enjoy the village and the people, but not without lingering thoughts of the man. His emotions were mixed, he enjoyed people smiling at him, and speaking to him. It was what he had dreamed of, yet, thoughts of this one man still plagued him. He felt in the village that day, as he did at home, happy with his life, yet not totally at ease with certain events, specifically, the Visitor at home, and the man in the village.

Upon his return home he spoke to the Visitor. He told him of the man he met in town, and how the man raved, and screamed at him.

“He cursed me, and said I live with the shadow of  Death! What did he mean… He also told me that I died soul less, what did he mean?” There was no answer.  

The Revelation

Erasmus pleaded with the Visitor. "Help me! Show me your face, so that I may see that you are good, and that you are not this same Daemon that has taken my Mother. Why must you hide it, and WHY do I fear thee so? You have given my life meaning. You have shown me the pleasures of being alive, and have taken away my want to die. Yet the more I enjoy my life as it is now, the more I tremble in your presence. What did that man mean?” I plead that you reveal yourself to me, for surely he was mistaken."

 

As the “Visitor" slowly withdrew the concealing scarf away from his face, Erasmus shuddered aloud!

 

"You are not this God I thought you to be!"

 

Seeing the visitor unveil himself caused Erasmus to reflect back to his childhood more clearly now. He remembered his mother being in the garden one day, when a robed visitor came up the path. He remembered the face of the stranger; it was as though there was no face in the hood at all. All he remembered were a pair of eyes, though even the eyes were more like two holes in an empty hood. He remembered she began to cry. It was the first time he had seen her cry. The following day his mother passed away. He never saw the hooded man again, until now.

Erasmus began to see what was happening to him, and what had happened with his mother. His mother, even though badly disfigured, enjoyed life towards its end. She had grown callous to the sneers and insults from the people in the village. She had found a place where beauty was all around her, and it didn't judge. It was her garden.  Erasmus knew she wanted to live, for the visitor it was a simple visit, a simple reminder to her, that her time was very near.

 

For Erasmus, the visitor had a very different reason for visiting. 

"Now I see why in your presence I felt cold and afraid! You are Death, but somehow you are more than just death! You are the embodiment and manifestations of dying! You restored me to health, just so that I might see the beauty of life, so that in losing it, I would feel the grief and sorrow that accompanies dying! You would have been cheated if I had died when I desired death. You would have been denied your demented lust and unquenchable thirst to torment man’s soul. Your hideous self is kept alive only by the horrors you instill in those that fear thee, and I did not fear thee!. I was denying you your pound of flesh!

 

You see O demon, it is not death that man fears, it is his dying. For in death we may sometimes find beauty and freedom, as I would have! It is only dying with the knowledge of a smile, and the ability to see the “Beauty of a Rose” that we find our grief!

 

These things you have truly given me, and now I fear death, for as I die, I shall surely remember the beautiful things you have opened my eyes to. You are a true Demon, your lust in the sorrow of mankind is insatiable. It was not enough for you to know I have suffered all my life. It is the final minutes that you wanted as well. This is when your terror is at its strongest!

 

You plant the seed of reflection into the fertile womb of every dying man’s mind. You ascertain a state of remorse for each man when his time is at hand. For truly, if there was nothing had, there could be nothing lost.  Yes, you are not only a clever Demon, but also a determined one. Your determination is strengthened by every man’s own determination to resist your arrival. As man obsessively strives to hold onto his life, your pursuit and presence, is profoundly more feared; thereby assuring your existence. Man gives you the guarantee of a future with his incessant endeavor for immortality!

 

So now, we share my hour again. Am I not the wiser for your efforts? Has not my new wisdom given me the edge in this, our second meeting?

  

Strange, why do I fear thee? I know now why you are here, and from whence you came."  Deep in his heart Erasmus knew why he feared the Visitor, it was because he was shown the beauty of life. He was allowed six days of knowing what life could be, without the tormenting pain, and now he was about to lose this gift. For now, Erasmus had something to lose.

"Can there be no bargain? I wish to live!"

Is that not a “Rose” you hold in your hand? 

Death ascended over the man’s bed, extending an hourglass in his one hand, and a rose in the other. He slowly withdrew the Rose to his side and extended the hourglass. He said but one word to the man.
“Remember”

And the man did!

 

With that, Death vanished. The door slowly pulled closed, as though being pressed by a gentle breeze. Erasmus was now alone and dying, but now possessing the knowledge of a smile, and knowing the beauty of a rose.

Erasmus the man wept.

 The trees whispered in the distance "Man shall not desire me, nor find solace in me"

Chapter II

The Inquisition
  As Erasmus lay there weeping, he wept not for the yearning of death as before, but rather for the fleeting glimpse of life that had been shown to him. The Demon has given him a new pain, sorrow. It is the pain that one endures from having and losing. Though this pain would heal in time, time is what Erasmus did not have.

 

As he lie there in his bed, Erasmus heard over and over again the words of the Visitor. “Remember.”  How vainly he tried not to. How he wished now, that the visitor had passed him by. He remembered how his mother cried when the Visitor visited her. He now understood how it felt to lose a life that had meaning. His mother felt this life, and grieved when she was about to lose it. So too, did Erasmus now grieve.

 

Erasmus remembered the air, thick with honeysuckle. He remembered how the people in the village accepted him. He remembered the brilliant hues of the sunrise on his wall in the morning. He remembered the fragrance of the fields, and of course, Erasmus remembered the beauty of a rose. All these things remembered, were now felt as though they truly were, the tools of the Devil. They were the torments of a man's soul, which were far greater then the physical pain he suffered all his life.

 

As the sun began its descent behind the hilltop that separated his home from the village, he did something he at one time wished he would never have to do again; he lit a candle! Once again the candle flickered, and once again it cast its gray shadows on the wall, Erasmus sighed. It was a sigh of great despair.
“Am I again to suffer? Am I to lose all that I have gained?”  Erasmus, in fury, shouted into the darkening room,

“If there is Evil in the world, it is God’s work!”

Erasmus thought of the man he had seen in the village, he thought about what the man had said to him. The man said,
 
“Through numbered days you shall see your dreams, but dammed will be your soul. Your land shall lay as waste, scorched by the hand of God. You have bargained with the Devil, cursed are you to live soulless upon this earth.”

 

“Soulless upon this earth” Erasmus repeated these words to himself. He thought back to what his mother had always believed. 

“The Rose is the embodiment of a man’s soul."

He remembered how, when he picked the rose; it filled an emptiness he had felt. It filled a void inside him. Although his life was full, his sprit felt empty.

“Did the rose hold my soul?” Erasmus remembered the Visitor holding an hourglass, and a rose. He remembered the Visitor putting the rose to his side, and extending the hourglass. 

“Did he then possess my soul? Shall he hold and deprive me of it as long as I walk this earth, and then, am I to leave this world soulless?"

 

Erasmus was confused. “Was it God that visited me, or was it the Devil himself?” While it was true that the Visitor extracted the unrelenting pain from his body, and had shown him beauty in the world. He felt barren inside. He remembered the Visitor extending his hand to him. How he felt an emptiness consume his body as their hands met. 

“If it were this Devil, did he, at that moment take my soul along with my pain? Or, was it God, deeming it bad to stop a bad thing. Thereby punishing me for wishing to end this gift of life he had given to me?” 

Erasmus questioned God. “Was this the price of Sin, torment, everlasting?”

 

“Soulless upon the earth,” Erasmus shuddered! The candle flickered, as it did, Erasmus felt his limbs begin to ache. The pain was returning! It was true.

"I have called out for death to take me, to embrace me, and I have angered God, with my pleas for death."

 

Erasmus’s mind was consumed with these thoughts of Good and Evil. He wished he could find this temporary death he called sleep. He lay there watching the shadows dance across the wall. His eyes grew heavy, and as the shadows danced, Erasmus entered into sleep, at last.

 

It was early morning when Erasmus awoke. His walls were gray from the dawn that was seeping through his curtains. The candle still burned, but the shadows that it cast, were lost with the approaching daylight. The room’s appearance seemed different. It appeared there was light coming from somewhere else. He knew this room well; he knew how it looked, no matter the time of day, or night. He knew it felt different! Erasmus lifted his head, and looked towards the door. It was open! He was sure it closed behind the Visitor. He remembered because the Visitor did not touch it, nobody did, it just pulled close behind him.

 

Erasmus sat up. It was with great effort this time that he did so. How quickly he had become accustomed to moving his limbs without pain and effort during those past six days. He was now, as he had been all his life, unable to do anything, but lay there without causing himself greater pain. The Visitor had left him as he found him. He felt the anger once again fill his body. Anger this time because he now knew what life was, and now was condemned to relive those thoughts with sorrow, a pain he very recently discovered.

As he sat looking towards the door, Erasmus felt as though he were not alone in the room. He could feel a presence. Erasmus searched the dimly lit room with failing eyes. “DAM these eyes!” He Shouted. They were as they once were, allowing him to see only shadows. Nothing was defined. In the corner however, he could see a deepened shadow. It was misplaced there. He knew this room, and all of its shadows. This was not one he recognized. Erasmus spoke in a guarded voice, 

“Is someone there?” A voice said, “Yes.”

 Erasmus knew this voice, it was one he would not soon forget it! It was the voice of the man from the village.

       

“What do you want of me?” Erasmus asked.

"You are without a soul, as I forewarned you.” Said the man.

 Erasmus remembered again the words, Soulless upon this earth. 
“Are you God?” Erasmus asked.
 
“No.” was all the man said.
 
“The Devil than?” asked Erasmus.
 
“No.” was the reply.

“Then what, why are you here? Why do you steal into my home?”
 
“Recall the Bible Erasmus, do you know this book?”
 
“Not well.” Erasmus answered. 
“I have heard of a God, I also have learned that he is a cruel God. He gave me a life no man should have had to endure, and when I begged for Death to end the pain and suffering, he dammed my soul.”

 “This was not God’s doing Erasmus. You have been deceived by the Devil. In the Bible it tells of God casting the Devil from the heavens. Do you know of this Erasmus?”

“No.” answered Erasmus.

“It also foretells of God’s final confrontation with the Devil. God has been angered Erasmus. This is your seventh day. It has been seven days since you were visited. God has watched over you Erasmus, yes, through all your pain and suffering, God was there. You were to be rewarded for the life you have suffered. You were pure of heart Erasmus, even Jesus spoke in anger towards his God in his final hour. The Devil is here on earth again. He has intervened in God’s own work. He stole from God what was Gods, your soul Erasmus. I was angry with you that day in the village Erasmus, I am sorry. I believed you gave your soul willingly, forgive me.” 

The Apocalypse

               

Erasmus listened to the man. He understood very little of what was being told to him. He did understand now however, that it was the Devil that had visited him. He now knew too, that the Devil had taken his soul, and that God sought to restore it through the Rose. 

“The Rose is the embodiment of a man’s soul.” He remembered his mother’s words. Erasmus now understood, after all these years.

The man approached Erasmus, in his hand he bore a Rose. “Take this Erasmus, the Devil has confronted God, and will surely try to possess it again. God will not be denied this time; He shall cast him from this land Erasmus. He will restore your soul, and when so doing, he shall leave his mark for all to see."

As Erasmus reached out for the Rose, darkness overwhelmed him. This darkness was unlike any other he had endured. There were no shadows any longer, so too, the fading light from the candle was no more. The faint gray light of dawn has left his house. Erasmus was blind! 

“Do not be afraid Erasmus, take my hand. The Devil has taken your sight so as to keep what he has stolen from you, and from God.” 

The man's voice reverberated through the blackened room. As Erasmus groped in the darkness for the man’s hand, he found it. This was not the hand of mortal man, it was more the touching of a dream, a dream which had substance. It was unlike anything he had touched before, Erasmus felt the tranquility and peacefulness flow from the man's body into his own.  It slowly elevated him from his bed, Erasmus now stood upright; there was no pain, nor was there any discomfort.

"Open your eyes Erasmus," the man commanded. 

As Erasmus opened his eyes; there, standing in front of him next to the man, was something that was without consistent form. It changed, from one form to another, in rapid succession. It spoke in a language Erasmus had never heard before. He realized this creature was not speaking to him; it was speaking to God. Its voice was thunderous!  It was not his eyes, nor his ears that betrayed Erasmus, his vision was clear, and his hearing was sound. 

There, standing in front of Erasmus was the embodiment of Evil.

Erasmus felt the floor begin to tremble under his feet, it grew stronger and stronger. It felt like a great force rising from the earth. As the floor shook, so too, did the land surrounding his home, shake and tremble. A brilliant light entered through his door. The light was warm, its fragrance was sweet, that of wild flowers. The light, as an aurora, surrounded Erasmus. The fragrance filled his body, as his soul found its place once again. The form before him began to shift again, this time to something horrendously hideous!  It caused great fear to grip Erasmus. A powerful voice emitted from the beast.
 
"Touch thy hand and ye shall be without pain and sorrow for ever more Erasmus. Thou shalt return thee to thy youth, ye shall have all thou hast wished for Erasmus, take thy hand." 

“Touch it not Erasmus, put aside your fears!”  The man demanded of Erasmus.

                               

As the man spoke this, four angels appeared. One held fire, one held stone, one held iron and the forth bore a Rose. The First angel hurled stone at the beast. The second angel put forth fire unto the beast, the third cast iron at the beast. The inferno caused great ruin to befall his land. It scorched, and laid barren to all that surrounded his home.

The beast now bore heavy chains that bound him to the stone. Flames tore at the beast, as the thunderous voices continued to pour forth from him. The shrill cry of the beast was deafening. It rose up to the heavens, and appeared to echo back to the ground, as though God had turned his back to the cries. Erasmus watched as the floor beneath the beast opened. The beast, chained to the stone, shifted shapes many times before Erasmus. He saw his mother pleading for help; he saw his father extending his arms to him, encouraging him to walk towards him; as he so often did when Erasmus was a child. 

The light in the room was now that of ten thousand candles. The beast returned to its hideous form and was then hurled into the abyss. The man from the village, who was God's angel, also entered into the abyss.

Erasmus stood momentarily, unable to fully grasp what had taken place there. He felt his limbs weaken, as he plummeted to the floor. Exhaustion consumed him; his eyes, weary and tired, closed for the last time. Erasmus was dead. He died there on the morning of September 7^th  1724 , not ten paces from where his mother and father were laid to rest.

The coroners report, to this day, still on record at the town hall; claims the date of death was September 1^st 1724 , not September 7^th, as the villagers claimed!  His body, the report stated, had lain there approximately 6 days before being discovered. It also stated that the rate of decomposition was rather “unusual,”  for just six days, but attributed that to Erasmus's infliction with leprosy. The body had blackened almost beyond recognition. They noted in the report that witnesses in the village testified to seeing Erasmus in the village on  September 6^th, ONE week after the coroners established date of death of, September 1^st. The coroner dismissed this possibility; his examination was conclusive in his opinion.

The villagers today believe Erasmus did die September 1^st, as the coroners report suggests.. They also believe that his soul was taken that night by the Devil himself. They say Erasmus, through his own pleas for death to take him, unleashed the beast upon the earth. They further say that the Devil intervened in his death through resurrection. Erasmus was to wander soulless for six days before God would send forth his angels to destroy the beast. God allowed Erasmus to touch his own soul, the rose, in the garden that morning. This was God's reassurance to him, that his soul would again be his. It is their belief that Erasmus, and these four angels sent the Devil into the abyss forever!

The land was razed that morning. The ground would never bear fruit, nor flower, nor be green again. It had been scorched, according to legend, through “The hand, and the wrath of God.”

Although not directly witnessed by the villagers, they all knew something took place there. Something not of mortal man. Few ever ascend the hill any longer, though green and filled with flowers leading up the hill. When you crested the hill, and gazed down, it was barren. Children do sometimes cross over the peak to play. They come back with filled imaginations, and stories they will tell their children. Perhaps this is what fuels a legend, the imagination of our children, playing where told, not to play. Perhaps, it is simply the inability of people to piece together incidents. Incidents that took place long ago. Some villagers recount it as evil being destroyed there. Some say it was born there on that day.  None however, speak of the legend without awe.  

The Marker 

It was seven years after his death, that a marker was put in place in the village square. The creators of the marker simply chiseled out the word 
E R A S M U S with a date of   1 7 2 4
 
There was no rose on the marker according to records of the stone cutters. The receipt has found its way into the town hall, enshrined in a glass case, along with the coroners report. I suspect it helped the support of their legend, basis in fact, as I referred to it. The receipt was for seven letters and four numbers only. Yet seven days after completion of the marker, witnesses then testified to a rose following his name on the marker. 

Some say they saw the forth angel, that bore the rose, ascend to heaven no longer bearing a rose in her hand. They say it was given to Erasmus the morning of the apocalypse. Some say, God touched the marker and left his fingerprint on the stone for all to witness. The rose on the marker was His promise to Erasmus; signifying that his soul had been restored to him, and shall be his forever.

I stood there looking at the marker. There was a faint impression; it could have been a rose. There was certainly something there. As I stood there, a child approached me and said, 
“This is not the time of year for roses, in the spring it will bloom red, and you will see it clearly.”

I stood for a moment longer staring at the marker; a chilled wind kicked up….it blew across my face, snapping me out of my wandering thoughts;  I turned and pulled my jacket collar closer around my neck. ‘Chilly for early September,' I thought.
 
As I started towards my car, I saw some children running down the slope of the hill that separated the town from the place where the legend had its beginning. It was obvious where they had been; they ran screaming the way children do when seeing one thing, and imagining another. They were LaBushette's assurance that its legend will survive yet another generation.

As I drove away, I thought about the abyss, and the Demon that was hurled into it. I also thought about the man in the village, as “the Angel” that entered into the abyss along with the Demon and what he must endure for all eternity. I found myself hoping it was all just a myth, but there was just too much, "basis in fact," to dismiss it entirely. I suspect curiosity will bring me back in the spring, will the image of the rose on the marker really turn red?

God gave all of us a rainbow as a reminder, Erasmus was given a Rose.

Author JSU

Reviews

[jsu]

Thank you for taking the time, this is not a short read. I have started writing this many times over many years.....I wonder if I will ever finish it to a final product. Thank you again. I have read and reviewed your story "Lost" So I believe you have an idea of where I was going with this story.

[APOORVA]

what an awesome creativity.
just nailed with your expression.
very beautiful