Safety

His face held the look of mortal fear. His weathered Mediterranean skin creased by too much sun and too much skin over a malnourish frame. Flies danced around him, many landing and crawling around his unshaven face. He gave them no regard.

He crouched on the rocky hill, barely more than a mound. In this place geological movement had ceased eons ago. The land unendingly flat. Only the a random hanfull of mounds, that had all but given up their struggle with gravity and erosion, broke the plane. This place of no rain where the tallest plants were like gnarled bonsai, dieing through neglect. Red soil, yellow tufts.

He saw his first twelve summers under Calabrias sun. His family were economic refugees or perhaps something more sinister. He never really new but he was and here he had been for the last forty or so years. So strange, he never lost his longing for home, stranger still that he never had gone back. Maybe it was greed that held him here?

He stared to the horizon, his mind adrift in a nightmare, knowing it was unreal but terror surging in his soul. Fast heart and breathing burning more of his reserves. The sun high and the horseman coming through the sea to collect his soul. He prayed and crossed and spoke his last right “Father, forgive my sins”.

Hotter than hell he stood upon his mound calling to the universe, the blue sky and silver disc of fire gave no reply. No sweat appeared on his brow and the apparition drew closer. Time past in an unconnected way. Lucid moments where the sun seemed to jitter across the sky. Regaining balance it stood still.

He fell from his stance as some unseen hand pushed him down. The mind worked and still the horror came. He was a good man and had experienced love, the love of family and mates. Still in his heart and through the chaos of his thoughts he knew it was over. Once more he pleaded to his god “Save me I am yours”. An observer would not have recognised this pleading as spoken word.

His mother came, kissed his cheek and held his hand. “Giovani you are such a good boy. I love you”. One by one people came, family first, then friends, good whished from all. A fat boy moved forward from the crowd “I hate you” was all he said. John new him and what he had done to deserve this. Then a second unrecognised pitched in “you bastard”. Then more, “liar….cheat….thief” and worse. Guilty on all charges. A chorus of condemnation. Faces known and not. And the sun moved once more.

He drank deeply from a cool mountain stream, trees and grass. He could feel the liquid, cool and moisten, opening his throat, reaching his belly. He levitated, could feel hands lifting him above the ground. Was he in heaven? Surely. He perceived sounds that were familiar but not recognised. His vision milky and blurred, blue sky and white hot sun.

Voices resolved calling his name, firm hands on his shoulders, insistent shaking. “Jonnie, mate, wake up”.