left_behind tender_square two used towels—one green, one red—crumpled on the floor. two open boxes of baking soda absorbing fridge funk. one unopened energy drink. a ceramic angel dressed as a nurse with stethoscope. two triple-wick candles, half burned, without lids. a styrofoam tray of frozen chicken breasts pale as alabaster. one half-drunk tim horton’s large. a wall hanging with the chinese symbol for peace. a fat, white cylinder of frozen sausage. 211130 ... Soma When I was in 4th grade, I had to hang out after school, because my mom was the office secretary. I would play in the small, square parking lot that was also our playground. The building rose up three stories on one side, and the concrete support wall for the narrow neighborhood street took up the other side. I'd playing four square until the last kid left, then be all alone. So, I'd go inside through the standard glass business door, turn right down the narrow hallway, about 15 feet to the dead end where the water fountain was, with the janitor's closet on the right. And I would stare. Above the water fountain was this painting. This painting terrified and amazed me. It showed a city scene, a highway ran from the upper right side down to the bottom left corner - all the cars were jammed up, there were accidents and fires and people screaming and little ghosts were rising from the cars. There was a graveyard on the right, and all the little ghosts were rising up from the graves. And a bulging cityscape with myriad buildings rising up on the left. In the sky above the city, a plane was crashing into a building, or tumbling towards the graveyard. Little ghost arose from all. And all these little ghosts were swirling up into that blue sky, towards the spot of golden white, where a man in robes stepped out of the clouds. These were the chosen ones. These were the good Christians. These were the ones who got saved. And in the painting, you could see all the little people crying and suffering who weren't chosen. Who were left behind. I had to read a book series about it. That image still haunts me, and sometimes, when I'm stressed, I dream I'm one of those little people. Screaming while the world burns as all my loved ones dissipate into ghosts. 211201 ... tender_square soma, this narrative is incredible. you took my silly post about items left behind in a new house and turned it into a deep exploration on faith. honored to have you blathing beside us in this red family. 211202 ... nr at least during lockdowns i had excuses for being alone 211203 ... nr ornaments 211204 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Belated welcome back, Soma. We ARE the chosen because YOU haven't left us behind. :) And that series by LaHaye and Jenkins!! Je me souviens. No patience to actually read it all, but I think I got partly through the first one as well as some of the teenage versions (yes, they had those). The image of the plane crashing is striking. I suppose it's no accident that the series got popular around the post-9/11, war-in-Iraq time. 2001, twenty_years_ago, eighth_grade_reunion. And still that's nothing like what my parents' world was, with the Cold War threat of nuclear annihilation. Next generation, though - well, aside from semi-apocalyptic pandemics, there's the slow crawl of global warming. Fire and ice. Not with a bang but a whimper. On a lighter note, I dunno what those cookers-up of potboilers were thinking when they named the Antichrist "Nicolae Carpathia." Old Nick as the devil, okay (like in Room by Emma Donoghue - harrowing but not in an end-of-the-world sort of way). But why a mountain range for a last name? Where's Nikola Caucasus and Nicky Alp? What about Nico Rocky? Nico Rocky, Biker Antichrist. The movie. Lady Gaga has to sing something jazzy in it. 211207 ... nr left_out 211209 what's it to you? who go blather from