Nephilim

1 - Nephilim

"Fuck," I breathed as I rested my forefingers on his neck to check for a pulse. Dead. I had known that before I had bothered to check. But I hadn't meant to kill him. Or maybe I had. I didn't know anymore. And there was a good chance that I'd never know.

I wasn't the kind of person who would blame someone else for my wrongdoing but The Erudite should have known better than to send someone to 'coerce' me. If I couldn't convince myself, no one else could. I kept hearing things like everyone has a dark side or everyone is a mix of both, good or bad, and it depends on what part we chose to act upon. But for me, there was no choice. That choice had been taken away from me 4 months ago.

I decided to abandon the 'bird' that The Erudite had sent to convey their message and walk back home. The man lay on the footpath in a dark alleyway. I didn't doubt that his body would be discovered with the first light. It was one of those areas that was packed with corporate offices and banks and law firms wherein all activity ceased as the clock struck six. By the time it was 8 PM, this place was dead as a heath.

The next morning, I knew, some bank manager or an intern in one of the law firms would decide to come in early. They would think about getting an early start so they could leave early to catch a movie with a friend or meet their nagging partner in order to pacify them. They would see this dead man, not knowing he was one of the 'birds' of The Erudite Church. A scream, puke and a phone call later, the street would be in a gridlock. Sirens would be wailing and people would be abusing each other because of the delay when it came to getting to work. All that commotion would go down and all I could think of right now was how I would have to bathe in cold water when I got home.

I returned to the hellhole I called home. Dumping my shoulder bag on the study desk, I walked straight into the bathroom and took off my clothes. I stood under the shower, under the icy cold water. People talk about how a cold shower helps them feel numb or calm. For me, the freezing water was a really loud alarm clock. The alarm was telling me, loud and clear, that I was alive. Whether I was still I or it, I did not know. I stood under the shower for another minute, examining the tattoo-like symbol that had suddenly appeared on my forearm one morning. It was the only morning of my insignificant life that I could recall with perfect precision. It was the morning when everything had changed.

It had all gone down 4 months ago. I had been sleeping in, as usual. I hated going to work. You would too, if your job was to be a lifeguard at one of those stupidly shallow residential pools in a society where all the rich and snobbish resided. On some days, when I could see the rich kids splashing about and swimming, I wondered what would happen if I just allowed one of them to drown. It would probably be that fat kid who bullied the others into letting him have his turn first. I thought of it as my way of unleashing my kind of justice on to the world. I wondered how magnificent it would feel to see that kid choke, his arms and legs flailing wildly, trying to grab on to anything and coming up with nothing. Finally, he would give up the fight, his lungs burning as they filled up with water, not allowing him to breathe. And then I realized I was still in bed. I was skipping work today and decided to wander about aimlessly and finally get one of those cheap, greasy kebab rolls for a late lunch.

I was messing about at the stall that sold the rolls. No one was around except the guy who managed it. I often wondered how he would view the world. For him it was just his little stall, the food he made, and the people who ate it. I felt strange thinking about how his little world continued existing even when I wasn't around. How he would continue doing what he did when I had walked off and gotten about with the things that I was supposed to do. It was then that I knew that my world was as small as his.

I was about to bite into my food when, suddenly, my arm began to burn. It felt as if it was on fire. I dropped my food and clutched my arm, crying out in agony. They tell you that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Well, a part of me was going to die and the only thing that flashed before mine was this 30-something woman who was smiling serenely. I would realize belatedly, that during a moment of distress, one is possessed by rather violent thoughts that urge one to destroy things; especially ones that are most beautiful and pure. I wanted, desperately, to snap her neck into two.