This Too Shall Pass

By David Bruch

This Too Shall Pass is a collection of short stories based on the premise that goodness and spirituality will always prevail. The collection opens with Dignity, a take on Paradise Lost and moves forward with two stories born in the Garden of Eden-And the Earth Cries, the Fall of the Garden told from the Gardens point of view-And the Earth Cries Part II, a story of the events of 9/11 from a dogs point of view. The story I.M. is a complex story of two fathers going in the wrong direction who are redeemed by the love of their daughters. Circles is a modern take on Dantes Inferno with an ending that leaves one with a feeling of hope. The next three stories: The Watermelon Patch, The Wish, and The Catalyst are short, feel good stories of the world around us. The last story, Jackie, is a story of true love. So, whenever you feel down and lifes stresses and strains are collapsing upon you, have faith, believe in goodness, strengthen your spirit, and always remember This Too Shall Pass, and all is right with the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477278604

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© 2012 by David Bruch. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/02/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7812-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7860-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012918651

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Table of Contents

Dignity

A take on Paradise Lost

And The Earth Cries

The fall of the Garden of Eden from

the Garden’s point of view

And The Earth Cries Part II

A dog’s point of view of the events of 9/11

I.M

A story of two lost fathers redeemed

by their daughters

Circles

A modern take on Dante’s Inferno

The Watermelon Patch and How Michelle Learned About Always Telling the Truth

A children’s story

The Wish

The story of the shooting stars

The Catalyst

The beginning of the world

Jackie

A love story

Dignity

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No one can serve two masters;

For either he will hate the one and love the other,

Or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other.

You cannot serve God and mammon.

Matthew 6:24

Chapter One

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Ask me my name! The young, disheveled man screams directly at a clean, shaven, and dissonant face.

I gives’ a damn about your name.

As he grabs the man’s collar and forces his eyes to meet his, the hero warns of his wrath, One more chance. One more fucking chance! Ask me my name.

Or what? You gonna’ call on those fucking freaks inside your head to kick my ass? Go ahead freak, call one ’em. I fucking dare you to! Call them mother fucker!

The words fell upon his combatant as he holds his hands tight over his ears to keep something from entering or leaving. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!

Seeing this, he starts to dig in. I am waiting freak, go ahead call ’em. This is why he does what he does. It is not the money. It is not the jewelry. It is not the car. The house. The wife. It is the power. The power he owns and distributes over his servants in small viles. It is knowing their inner thoughts. Knowing that greedy lust for one more fix. It is the ability to use their addiction against them and to push every single button. This is why. This is fun. It was fun right up to the time he looked back at the freak and saw the barrel of a gun glaring at his face.

I warned you, he gritted out between clenched teeth. One more time. Ask me… He is interrupted by two gun shots. A homeless man with highly polished combat boots, the next customer in line, is the only one to see two bodies crumble dead to the ground. As he rushes towards the carnage, a large, dark shadow of a man wearing a black trench coat disappears around the corner. He looks at the one with the gun. He face is a picture of peacefully calm seas and is as serene as a child’s first laugh. The gun is still in his hands. There is no clip and no round in the chamber.

The other’s face is as jagged and unapproachable as the northern faces of endless, winter peaks. A worn age shows through the finely cleaned pores of a pampered life. The sadness of it all starts to make the homeless man slip into a world of pity and empty finality. Then his street instincts slap him back into reality, and he automatically starts to empty their pockets. In the right pocket of the one with the gun, he finds a folded twenty dollar bill, just like the one in his. That is all. He wishes he knew the man’s name.

On the scarred and aged man he finds a wallet with money and the picture of a house. The house stands on a small green hill overlooking a large backyard, vegetable gardens, and several flower gardens dispersed through out. The house has two parts connected by an elaborate green house adorned by a rainbow of shades of green from within. The part of the house to the left is dark. No room has a light on and the curtains are always tightly drawn. There are rock gardens and fountains on this side. No flowers. Only a lone fruit tree. The other side is clean, pristine, and charming. Flower beds abound and soft, rolling grass flows into a beautiful forest. He checks the address on the ID and puts the wallet into his right pocket next to the folded twenty dollar bill. He leaves the men in a growing pool of blood. Just two more nameless, unidentified bodies. He leaves them so their souls may go their route.

Chapter Two

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One of the souls, the clean-shaven man, passes in front of me. I am Mammon and this is the hell that surrounds me; it is my home. The smell of ever rotting flesh fills the air around me. The dark flames cast an eerie black shadow across the gray, hot walls of the hallway. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of my fate. It seems like I have been cast out of Heaven forever; all because of my Savior’s great plan. This misery was not part of my plan. This is not how I remembered it…

Chapter Three

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We had all gathered around God, to see what all the buzz was about. God did not waste any time, He never liked wasting time, I am glad to see everyone. He looked at everyone’s solemn and serious faces. They were glaring at each other and making quick little gestures toward each other. The tension was thick; lately, it was always thick. I have a new plan I would like to share with you.

Thammuz, with a huge amount of sarcasm, speaks first, Uuuuh, Uuuuuh. Listen. Listen everyone God has another plan.

Belial joins in the mockery, "Yeah, I can hardly wait. I don’t care what any of you say, his last one was a great plan." He winks at God and everyone enjoys a small chuckle at God’s expense.

What were we thinking? chuckles Mammon, those lumbering animals were just too freaking huge. He stands up, imitates a T-Rex, and teases Moloch, And what in the Hell were you thinking? Making a big ass meat eater and giving him little freaking three foot arms. He continues his imitation until Moloch sails a rock towards his head.

Enough! screams God above the laughter. "Man, we have definitely been together for far too long! However, all that will change. This time it will work. I am sure you have noticed, Lucifer is not at this meeting."

Daggon speaks, Yeah, I was swimming and I saw him sleeping over by…

The river, God interrupts.

Yeah, the river. But how did you know?

God smugly points to himself, Please, this is Me your talking to. He gathers everyone closer. I have planted a seed in Lucifer’s dreams. A seed from which a thought will be born. A thought that will change the Universe. He will wake having thoughts of taking my throne. This is where I need your help. He calls them ever closer together in a huddle and proceeds with his entire plan. When he is finished, all his subordinates stand up and look at each other with confused faces.

That’s a good plan, Thammuz timidly offers his opinion, but should we… I mean do we dare disturb the Universe? Should we not think this over tea and cakes? I mean let us not rush. There will be time, there will be time.

Man, blah, blah, blah, Chemos answers. Don’t you ever shut-up? You talk so freakin’ much; I stopped believing you a long time ago. I think you lie so much you don’t even know what the truth is anymore. Why don’t you and Moloch go back to your mountains and do whatever you two do over there. I mean you two spend so much time together, I am beginning to get suspicious.

Suspicious of what? roars Moloch. You want some of this you gilled freak. I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll send your head home on a platter.

God quickly jumps in, "Enough, enough. There will be no more of this nonsense. This is our time, our time." As God stares each of them down, each ones starts to see the grandiose of his remarkable plan. Each face turns hopeful and all endorse the plan and all understand their part.

Chapter Four

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. . . That was how I remembered it. But somehow I feel left out, forgotten, and betrayed; it has been so long since the fall. Too long. I continue my walk towards my Master’s hall. I see the dark wings of the fallen howling above my head. The eternal screams of the damned, the screams I used to love, now sound like breaking glass to my ears. Everywhere there are damned souls, their eyes searching for a hope that will never come. Now, it is my eyes that are searching for hope. Perhaps, the greatest Hell for me is that I cannot escape the memories of the glorious Heaven that I once knew and the plan that I once was a part of.

I walk toward his hallowed chamber, and I see him sitting like a king upon his mighty throne. His dark wings are folded around his body in a cold embrace. Every breath he takes fills the room with an air of twisted, unjust justice. His cold, gray skin is covered with blood from black hearts. His enormous muscles twist and wriggle under his skin like serpents escaping a perpetual flame. On top of his head is a small winged devil which licks the blood off his forehead and nibbles the rotting flesh off his skin like an evil parasite. His legs are the legs of an animal with tarnished, gold hoofs which tap an evil beat upon the floor. He is indeed a frightful looking creature, until you see his eyes, then he is terrifying. His eyes are an intense red which, when he stares at you, can burn a hole through your soul. His stare will make the strongest of heart cry like a loving babe in the arms of a mother.

I walk closer to him, my body trembling with fear because of the control he has over my fate. My confidence builds. I take a deep breath, flex my chest,