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Simon awoke later in his room, Ezekiel sitting at the edge of his bed. "Do you remeber anything that you have done in the last hour?"
Simon shook his head, their was a sharp pain on the top of his head. "I remember embarrassment, and anger. Then it all went white." Ezekiel nodded. "Your powers are not just a gift Simon. God has given you your gifts to stop Satan, but Satan is a wicked snake, and can twist things around on you. The human race's key weakness is their emotions. Humans hearts are heavy, and hold terrible burdens. To defeat him you must lighten your heart. Otherwise Satan will take ahold of your heart and weigh it down so much, your powers, will be out of your grasp and you will not be yourself, but you will be your powers."
Simon sat on his bed confuzed and stunned. He had no idea what Ezekiel meant. "Your powers are like your pet. They have a heart of their own and have to emotions, mercy, and cold-hearted. It prefers being cold-hearted." Simon could understand that. "A few hours ago you almost killed your best friend without even knowing. You-" Simon interuppted him.
"I did what, to who?" THe thought of killing someone made his stomach chrun enough, but T.J.?! Simon's eyes began to water. His friend would never be the same around him. He had almost killed him!
"Take them back!"Simon shouted to Ezekiel, tears now streaking his cheeks. "I don't want these powers!" Simon cried, pushing his hands out towards Ezekiel. "Take them away! Tell God to find some other pawn! I can't do this!" He was now sobbing uncontrollabley. T.J. had almost died, because of him. He was so close to becoming a murderer, and worse, of his best friend. He wanted all of the last few days crazy happenings to just end.
"I can do that." Ezekiel said, taking a firm hold of Simon's hands. They were extremely cold and somewhat clammy, like he had been handling lots of ice. "But I want you to see something first. Ezekiel helped him to his feet and led him to the window. "This," He said pointing out the window. "Is pretty much what the world will look like if you keep your powers, and do what is rigt in the name of the lord. This," Ezekiel said leading Simon over to another one of his windows which were covered by his blinds, "Is what the world will look like if you fail." Ezekiel opened the blinds, and instead of looking at his front yard and seeing a large oak tree with a tire swing, instead of seeing his front yard, and his home. He saw ashes. What was once a full grown tree, was not charred and dead, not a leaf left upon its branches. Spots of once green grass, was now small pits of fire, surrounded by ashes and coals. "Follow me." said Ezekiel, leading Simon by the hand out of his room. The whole way his eyes stayed glued to his window. All he had seen out there was death. he absolutely hated death. Ezekiel squeezed his hand, letting him know he should turn around. His once white-washed beautiful home now was a dreary dark shade of grey, burnt spots on the walls, holes in the ceiling and floors, still partially burning. Pictures that once hung on his walls were now singed, and destroyed. Ezekiel floated in the air, bringin Simon with him, levitating over the menacing holes. They burned staright down into the earth itself below his basement. "People will suffer as well." Ezekiel pushed open his younger sister's door. It was a completed nightmare. The walls were singed, and the shelves that once held her precious stuffed animals now only had reminitions of them. Stuffed bodies burned, furs charred and smoldering, heads missing, stuffing falling to the ground like clouds of flames. The bed had another giant burning hole in it, and her windows had been shattered open panes in their places. A small sobbing came from the corner of the room. Ezekiel led Simon to the corner, where a small fragile girl sat in a rocking chair. Simon remembered that rocking chiar. His Mother had read bed time stories to his older borther, him, and his little sister in it. In the chair sat a stranger to Simon. Her hair was shoulders length, the ends burned off, and soot smeared all over her face. Tear lines made streaks through the black. Her hands were disturbing. One, was wrapped in bandages, the other, was burnt to the bone, black dead flesh and musles still hung from the dead hand. In her hands she held a golden locket, the one his mother used to wear. She cired and rocked back and forth. Simon quickly to his sister in his arms and tried to soothe her but found he couldn't touch her. A strong tug pulled him away. Within moments, he found Ezekiel once again leading him with a firm hand.I wish i could show you what happened to your brother but, his remains could not be identified. Charcoal is all that was left. Simon reached for the doorknob of his brother's room and was once again pulled back. He had many memories of his brother's room. Looking for advice and recieving only a noogie. Being taught how to play baseball and breaking the window, and his brother his role model, always standing in that doorway when he came back from school greeting him with, "Hey doofus." Somehow those two words represented love to Simon now, and that was all he wanted to hear. But his brother wasn't standing in the doorway, Simon's hair hadn't been ruffled, and he hadn't recieve a noogie. Simon wanted so badly to open the door, and lyingon the bed, with his baseball mit on, playing catch with a ball would be his borther. But he was pulled away. He screamed and writhed against the pull longing to see his brother but was only rewarded with Ezekiel's cold hands holding onto him firmly. Downstairs in the living room, their was three urns, that had not been there before. His family nver burnt their loved ones, as if reading his mind Ezekiel answered. "They didn't have a choice. All that was left was-"
Simon finished his sentence in a choked voice, "Char-c-ooa-ll" A loud yell could be heard in the kitchen. Simon recongized the vcoice immediatly. It was his fathers. It sounded tired, weak, and afraid, but it was still his father's voice. He rushed into the kitchen werehis father stood, scraggly and unkept, much unlike his father. "You cannot take her please, she is all I have left! Please, I beg of you. You have done enough harm to this family yet alone to her. She wouldn't be able to help you with her hand anyways. Please I beg you!" Two men, in full black robes, holding what looked like black squirt-guns with backpacks were entering the house. They put a fear in Simon's heart, worst of all was their hats. They wore long pointed caps, that draped down to their shoulders, but reached about a foot above their heads. They must of been some new group like the KKK. They argued with his father and told him to step aside. Ezekiel interrupted the men. "You may not want to see this." The men once again told his father to step aside. "Please, do not take her I beg of-" The men pulled the triggers of their guns, a stream of fire, burning through his father's midsection. Simon screamed reaching out for his father, the pull towards ezekiel stronger than ever. He screamed and screamed his father burning into a pile of carbon before his son's very eyes. Simon lashed out to get a hold of anything. He didn't want to leave his father. Everything he reached for though went through his ghostly fingers. Ezekiel stopped in fornt of the urns. "K-eep go-ing. I kn-ow whose t-hey are." His vision was so blurred form his tears that even if he wanted to he could not see the nameplates on the urns. He felt a sudden rush of air, and then an immense heat. "This is where those men wanted to take your sister." Simon's eyes instantly cleared. Most likely the work of Ezekiel. They stood in front of a mine, leading deep under ground. They walked down the shaft, children, men and women worked along-side each other, swinging picks and gathering ores. They were also soot stained and all of them had gone through some sort of extreme pain. It could be seen in all of their eyes. Ezekiel once again took his deeper down the tunnel at immense speeds. They stopped in fornt of two children around Simon's age. One was a male, he had his shirt off, the other a girl, hair full of soot. The boy let out a moan of pain. He dropped his pickaxe and, with blisterrd hands grabbe dhis stomach. As soon as the boy moaned Simon recongized him. He was covered in soot but Simon still reconigzed T.J. "He has blood poisoning from brething in the mines. He'll be dead within a week." The girl truned to him and helped him stand upright. She took a canteen off of her waistand poured some into his mouth. He gagged on it, but obviously grately appreicated it.
"Thanks Emma." T.J. said. Emma nodded and picked up her basket again, which was almost full of ore. A man in a black suit with a whip came up to them and gave T.J. a firm lash acrossed his back.
"Get back to work!" He yelled, and whipped T.J. again, blood puring out of his back. He quickly bent over and picked up his pickaxe, and lifted it above his head but once again moaned and grasped his stomach. The man whipped him again, making another slash in his back. T.J. collapsed to the ground. "Get up!" The man said whipping him again and again. Simon screamed and tried to go in defense for his friend. But once again he felt a rush of air and was once again in his bedroom staring out his window into his fornt yard and at his oak tree with its tire swing.
Ezekiel let go of Simon's hand. "The choice is up to you. Do you still want to give away your powers." Simon's face was tear streaked but a pure hatred burned in his eyes. He was speachless but shook his head back and forth. Nothing was worth letting anyone go through that. Nothing.
