Dawn of Madness

By Joy G. Dupuy

How does someone who is perfect and talented become mad?
Follow Beealzire as his life changes from the most perfect
of creaturesloved by all to complete madness.
Watch as he changes the purpose of music and the reason
for his creation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512705317

Joy G. Dupuy

Joy Dupuy is a Christian wife, mother, and grandmother. She is the principal of a small A.C.E. school at her church. She is also the church worship leader. Joy has a BA in sociology from Louisiana State University and an MA in Christian counseling from Liberty University. She is also a licensed minister. Her hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling with her husband on their motorcycle. Joy and her husband reside in a small town in South Louisiana.

Book preview

Prologue

THIS BLACKNESS IS WORSE THAN HE COULD HAVE EVER imagined. He sees nothing. How he got to this stark place is unbelievable. Darkness is overwhelming and no one seems to be near or far. Maybe if he moves a little he can orient himself to some sense of his present surroundings. He sees shapes of things, shadows of forms, varying degrees of darkness. How long he has been here is of no consequence to him. He awoke to the sense of nothingness. Loss is so overwhelming that he wants no memory at all. The past is so painful that he prefers not to think. He needs something to drink to quench this dry thirst. Maybe if he crawls slowly in one direction he might find something. He feels the dirt beneath his body, although he cannot really see it.

He must have slammed into this ground with such force that his entire being is engulfed in a pain that he never realized existed. He must move. He must crawl ever so slowly. He is beginning to distinguish shapes like trees and shrub. He has never seen anything like it. It is like a shadow of things slowly coming to his memory. Nothing is familiar yet nothing unrecognizable. His mind is such a fog that he knows that drink will help. He must find something to drink. Crawling is painfully slow, yet he must not stop. Fear has such a grip upon him now that he must move. He must move! These emotions are so new to him. Fear, anxiety, confusion, powerlessness are paralyzing him and yet motivating him to go on. These pains that rack his body are overwhelming. Crawl, he must crawl. The darkness is beginning to lift, or is it his eyes that are adjusting to this darkness. The smell of dirt, the tree roots bruising as he moves ever so slowly in one direction.

Is he even going in the right direction? What is right and what is wrong? Wasn’t that always the question before him? Was he not drilled constantly about his actions, his thoughts, his intentions? No, he will not think of that now. He will only think of survival. He will not think of what this grime and filth he is crawling through is doing to his beautiful body. He is the most beautiful creature ever made. Surely nothing, no amount of dirt or bruising, can change that. Wait! He hears moaning. Is that his sound or the sound of some other creature? It frightens him, and he has never been frightened. It must be the lack of water. Who knows how long he has been without food or drink? Who knows how long he lay on this forsaken soil before he awoke? However, he must be making progress. The thickness of the brush is clearing. He can almost see as if there is some faint sense of light ahead. He realizes that he has never been in such darkness, and he is terrified of darkness. The ground is beginning to feel cooler to his rough fingers and knees.

He wishes he could see his face. Maybe in the reflection of the water, he can catch a glimpse of his beauty and it will make him once again feel his perfection. Yes, that is what it was. Perfection. He was beautiful perfection. Then why? But nothing matters now. He is beginning to feel such hatred for his situation and for the ones who caused him this pain. He hates! Yes, he hates! He was never allowed to express that before. He hates! How freeing to say that. He feels moisture in the ground underneath him. The smell of something rank is before him. It is very close. The roots of the tree are beginning to slope ever so slowly into the ground. The sky above has cleared and a light quietly reflects upon something. Yes, it is water. Maybe it is a small pond or a lake. He cannot see its boundaries. He crawls to the edge and dips his lips into its’ liquid. Is it poisonous? He does not care. It cools his tongue and throat. He drinks and drinks but it does not quench his thirst like the water from before. He will find a better source later. For now, it is flowing down his throat and into his stomach. He has never felt this emptiness. Is this hunger?

He puts his hand into the water and slowly brings it to his face. How good it feels upon his cheeks and his eyes. As he looks up, he sees the reflection of the trees in the water. If he could rise a little, perhaps he could get a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the water. It is painful as he pushes up his bruised body. Yes, he can do this. If he can see his perfect face once again, he will feel like himself.

I need to see me, he says. Struggling, he pushes to one knee. He leans out over the water and yes, there he is. No! His eyes struggle to focus upon the reflection in the water. Is he seeing something underneath the surface? No, it is his reflection. His reflection! Nooooo!!!! I hate you! I hate you! he shouts. What have you done to me? I HATE YOU!

PART ONE

Chapter 1

THE WATER IS SO CLEAR THAT IT MIRRORS A PERFECT reflection of the image above. One drop is all it takes to quench one’s thirst yet it is so delicious to drink. He looks at himself in the reflection and admires all that he is, beautiful and perfect. That is how he was created. By one magnificent stroke, he came into being. His perfection continues to blossom every moment that he lives. He is changing, from glorious being to glorious being. He stares transfixed by his own image, lost in his own beauty. It is his favorite time of the day. The morning mist is rising, completing its’ watering of all the living things in the kingdom. The light, always present, begins to glimmer on the water as the mist dissolves. It is in that moment that he sees his first reflection of the day. Perfect!

Bee! Hurry! What are you waiting for? Gazeel hurries over to the pool where he is kneeling. We have to go now. Soon the trumpets will sound and we must be ready!

Beealzire slowly turns away from his reflection and smiles at his companion. I know. I’m coming. The entire kingdom moves in rhythm to the sound of singing in the realm. It is the morning gathering. Every creature longs to enter into the presence of the king. His blessings of the morning are the ones that touch the heart. He can see into the heart and chooses those who will minister to him for the day. To be chosen is the greatest blessing of all. His servants long to be the chosen.

Who do you think it will be today? Gazeel asks. Many will be present and all are worthy. Maybe it will be you, Bee. Your music is improving. I’ve heard it said that you are the most perfect of musicians in the court.

Nonsense, Gaz. You know that isn’t so. But what an honor it would be to perform for the king. So they hurry through the hillside. The rolling hills, fresh with the day, meld with the cloudless sky. Trees sway in the gentle breeze and the flowers turn to the morning bloom. Magnificent hues vary to the thousandth degree in every shade imaginable. New colors emerge every day. Nothing dies in the kingdom. Nothing grows in the kingdom. Everything matures. Life is an explosion of senses. But Gazeel and Beealzire no longer notice these things. Everything is familiar to them as they daily glide toward the center of the kingdom. They no longer sense the landscape changing. Perfection is everywhere, but perfection is also at the core. The music of water is always present. It is the music and the constant brilliance of light that is the beauty of the kingdom. The kingdom called Azaroth.

Others are now flowing toward the city. The countryside is changing as their eyes adjust to the brilliance of the city coming into view. Thousands gather and mingle as they merge upon the city. They do not walk, but glide as if carried upon the breezes that move everything. As Gazeel and Beealzire merge with the others, the sounds of singing grow louder. They are almost there. The gates of the city are in their sight now. Gates, so tall that no one has ever measured them, stand open to the entrance of the city. The gates are always open. The solid pearl bars, of which the gates consist, are emitting music that beckons everyone to enter. Nothing else in the kingdom can produce such a harmonic melody that draws every creature through its’ opening. Silence always falls upon the creatures as they enter because of the beautiful tones erupting from every bar. Beealzire slows to let the music flow through his being. But Gazeel reaches for him and tugs him along. It is not the time to stop.

The path that begins at the gates divides into a thousand streaks of gold, all pointing in the same direction. They guide the creatures toward the center. Crystal spheres encircle the area and reflect the light. The light dances off every edifice and radiates the beauty of the city. Towers, like diamonds, ascend from the streets upwards into the clouds. Light, sound, and color all melt together to form a perfect union. Then it happens!

Chapter 2

JAEL SMILES AS HE HEARS THE SOUND. HE STANDS AT THE open archway in his room surveying the creatures moving to the rhythm of the kingdom. This is definitely his favorite part of the day. He is the king’s son and is free to do anything he wants. But there is nowhere else he would rather be. He heads towards the throne room. The day is beginning.

The sound vibrates through every creature in the kingdom. It is the call to assemble before the king. The