Transformative

The night was silent, dark, and cold. The spartan furnishings were threadbare but clean. Immaculate in calculative glances the furtive mouse found no crumbs. The woman slept on the bed in peace with a mind that worked hard to catalogue nightmares into dreams that were more li,ke survivable.

The years in the preposed Last Reich's regime had been hard but less hard than they could be. In somehow seemed worse than ever to the old souls in the room.

In the cold room, the man stumbled in the dark and quiet. He found the room's aura to be a purest transluncence significanct of holy emanated from the man and the sleeping woman.

The dreams spun by the Evil Ones' desire for slumber and World dominance had proved to be too much for the woman. In the dark, she slept, the lighthouse of her soul had diminished to one glowing lantern and the whole world felt the dark in the absence of her soft light.

So they sent the man, Azrael to see if the mind's glow could be released from the dark spell of the wicked ones. In the room which glowed softly like moonlight that seemed to spill from her form He appeared.

Standing he mused a moment, and then in words soft, in ancienct and with the knowledge of centuries behind the life in dark words and light thoughts the words of melody, the restoration of life began its weary and timeless incantations.

As the moments and then hours passed the people in the room grew to multitudes and they danced, sang, prayed, and implored the gods calling on the power within themselves and within the girl who lie in a woman's form on the bed.

In the early morning hours, the light that had drawn into her soul holding only her began to develop warmer, deeper, and more earthen tones. As it began to grow it spilled onto the floor and traced tendrils across the room touching every awareness in its path, the light began to grow and within these early morning hours the moon made its way out from behind the clouds and poured in through the window illuminating the man as the shadows around him scattered back into the corners. And the people that had filled the room were but specters that had answered a summons for help.

As the balance began to be restored colors came back into the room that the man had forgotten. Smells and sights that were forgotten and discredited brought collective feelings from remote regions across the world. Flowers bloomed in Mexico and crickets sang ancient lullabies in Constanople. In Rome, church bells pealed and women sang. In America the interstates were covered in snow.

The night was Christmas and across the world people read folklore from holidays celebrated as long as human history. In the night drunk men experienced redemtion at window dispays of the Christ child. Children found magic alive and well in the sparkling displays that sang from the windows of toy shops and hair salons.

Somewhere a new baby cried, wolves howled, and the night lost its power to destroy and became again an antidote and balance to the day. The beauty of the night became once more a place of peace and restored to the day its lustor.

In the early a.m the girl woke alone in the moonlight and wondered at the glow that streamed across the room. She found that she had been dreaming and turned back into that far way land where healing is and allowed the cosmos to mend.

In the morning, she woke and the bright light streamed into the window. The snow sparkled light that hurt her eyes and all was well with the world. It was Christmas Day. In this, it is remembered that humans aren't meant to live in tragedy nor to create it. They are meant to have moments when awe is felt for the power of the sacreds. Whether they be moments, or natural settings, or beauty, or something created these moments are an element of life. Perhaps it is history, or a star- filled sky, or the magic that sparkles from an artisitic display that someone put some heart or hard effort into but somewhere in the life of every human the depth of the sacred or sacreds is felt and these are the moments that keep us alive. When a newborn cries, or when love saves a life these moments are the greatest elements that carry our lives.

Joy sparks more joy, a miser pays it forward, random acts of kindness are reinstated and humanity gets a new lease on life. Life is a balancing act in which cruelty and kindness interact on scales that are unflinchingly accurate at all times. This is life.

As the woman went through her day she reflected on all that the years had shown and hoped for a brighter year to come. The plans of the "Last Reich" had been thwarted and the long night that had been dominant over her soul had at last lost its grip but in this moment, a greater story began to unfold.

In a moment, the dreams of the night informed her that this time the "Reich" had sung its last tune and created its last lament. For out of these ashes came something new, something forgiving, and something that would never remain silent until every last thread was unraveled from the evil so great that life itself meant less than the accomplishments of its goals.

In this moment, the woman realized that stories had a power to inform, transform, and entertain the readers and listeners. Hence, the written word found new life, new power, and a new lease in a world that had slowly began a descent into an illiterate oblivion that was reverse to the preservation of art, and integrity and begin to become again a celebration of human abilty.