Ruth: Reimagined

Reckless

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Reckless
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In the midst of  a drunken  chaos,  a flickering fire rose up in the night,  women and men danced around it, people drank to their heart's content and songs were sang, and drums were played, and lovers  for the night were found, Chillion sat on a log, staring up at the dark sky, dotted with stars. Empty inside.

Stalling the inevitable, he suppressed the thoughts of returning home that ran rampant in his mind. At the sight of his mother, he would break, he would crumble due to the weight of his recklessness.

And like the very first time, he stepped foot into places like these, where sin, was worshipped he felt in his heart, like a consistent shout, that faded in its pitch by the day, saying 'Get out!'

He hadn't had a drop of wine yet, but like most things, it was inevitable that he would, although he didn't want to, although he wanted with everything in him to stop —

"My friend!" A man from the crowd called, a joyous smile on his face. For a moment, Chillion thought he was talking to someone else, but as the man made himself towards Chillon, and then sat beside him on the log, with a drink by his side.

"Chillion, why so downcast, in a moment like this?"

Chillion hid the surprise of the strange man knowing his name and tried for a weak smile.

"I—" but before Chillion could continue speaking, the man was speaking again. It must have been one of the friends he had made at the parties and banquet’s he'd been attending all in the search for wine.

The man spoke over the music, the singing and drums, his voice loud, and he spoke quickly never running out of things to say, pausing only to laugh and that would be when Chillion would pretend to laugh.

He spoke of a war that happened, of King Eglon and of an abrupt end to the war, yet it all sounded insane to Chillion, so he stopped listening. It wasn't long before the man's friends came along, just as drunk and loud, and it was then that Chillion found it easy to escape the conversation.

A drink was shoved into his hand, and cheers broke through as the men encouraged him to drink, to wash his pain away. They would not leave him till he took a sip, so he did. One big gulp, it was a strong drink, not filtered at all with water. At the sight of him drinking, the men continued their small talk, laughter broke out, irking Chillion and the empty feeling within his chest, dug a hole into his soul.

Looking up at the sky, his eyes watered, and chest tightened with the cries of his soul, crying out to Yahweh, fading smaller and smaller. Until it became a whisper, until it was blown away by the wind, left with an ache, of a man who felt unworthy to even call on the name of his God.

His days after Shiva were spent running from Yahweh, avoiding all thought of him, because if he were to face him, the anger, the pain he would unleash, was something he was not ready for. He was not ready to even ask why the Lord had taken his father away. He was not ready to face the God, who'd been called the lover of his soul, and believe that he actually loved him.

In the depths of his sin, could he still say his name, would it cause a breakthrough.

"Yah–," his voice  broke, even in the whisper, the tears almost fell. Looking around him, at the chaos, at the people, who all seemed to be at the peak or their high, unaware of a man who felt like he was dying.

"Yah–weh."

Chillion could not bear to say another word. He blinked back the tears, cleared his throat, and decided to take another sip of his drink.  At the corner of his eye, he caught something, and that made him stop midway.