The Messenger.

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"Good always conquers evil, but it will never be banished. For it is reborn in the hearts of men. This is the Devils' greatest lie." - Lawrence Ettar (1946)

A strong wind blows along an open field. Above, the heavens shine brightly, casting it's heat until the dried up grass below, creating a dew like smell due to the previous rains in the area. Scattered throughout the fields are worn down carnival tents, some barely standing while others are in disrepair but still functional. A group of men and women tend to the field, carefully patching the canvases. Others work on what looks to be power equipment. Construction is clearly underway... 

The sounds of rubber plowing through gravel are heard next as an aged Jeep Wrangler pulls up, squealing due to it's uncared for brake system. The door to the jeep opens up loudly, and a heavy set man finds his footing, dressed in soiled black slacks and a fur trimmed trench coat. Reaching into the Jeep, he obtains his trademark fedora and presses it against his greasy scalp. 

Immediately, the majority of those in attendance rush to the Jeep, all with smiles and sounds of jubilation. They simply surround the vehicle and await word as one steps out of the pack, addressing the fedora adorned visitor. "Mister Black, we have waited so long for you. Some suggested that you would never return. We are jubilant that you have chosen to be here. We have kept the carnival up as best as-" 

"-it looks beautiful." Responds the man known as Brett Black. "Don't change a thing. There is a serene peace in disrepair, for none of us are without our flaws. It is those who embrace these flaws, and use them as a source of strength, who are destined to be at their best." 

Unzipping his zipper, Brett removes his penis and begins to urinate on the ground before the group, clearing his throat as the one before him speaks. "So where have you... have you been? Our mission was close to being completed, we feared that we failed you." 

Turning to face his new friend, Brett urinates on his leg with a soft grin. He then shakes it off a few more times, dropping scattered squirts against the man's cargo pants before zipping before putting away his package. "Failed me? That is impossible... for failure is only an excuse for those who wish to cease any forward movement. No, life is a challenge, my friends. LIFE IS A GIFT, ONE THAT MUCH BE ANALYZED AND THOUGHT OVER UNTIL WE UNDERSTAND IT'S CORE! This is where I have been. When you last saw me, I was half the man that I wished to be. The teachings of the wise one were lost upon my ears as my focus drew ever so consistent upon my career in the EWC. Words that normally sparkled my soul and tickled my mind now shredded me with guilt and pain. I no longer heard the call of the wise one. Oh no... I had lost my way. So, I set out to find the voice once again and to back in it's glory." 

The crowd begins to mumble among themselves. Brett Black glances at each one of them as he lets his trench coat slide off of his large frame and fall to the grass below with a soft thud. All at once, there are gasps from the crowd as they notice the physical changes before them. Arms there were once bare, were now covered in tattoos and scars. Brett Black had become something else, from his posture to his appearance. He was no longer a man. He had become... the messenger. Catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity, Brett smiles as he speaks to them with a thunderous voice: 

"Prepare.... prepare my children... for our time is now at hand! I have learned so much from my exile, and my mission has never been more clear. Look into the darkness, and you will find a demon waiting to claw your flesh. Glance up into the heavens, and you will find heavenly wings waiting to whisk you away into the abyss. Look towards me... and you will find redemption. Prepare the carnival once more, for business will begin again. The world will come to know my name yet again, but this time I shall deliver my message like a spear of sheer determination. I shall choose a familiar stage from where I shall deliver my sermon. That stage.. will be the EWC." 

Heads nod and hands clap as the mob disperses, heading back to work instantly. Brett Black sees the responses, and lets out a smile. Looking up into the skies, he slowly closes his eyes. 

....a drop of rain leaves the sky and finds it's place on his forehead.