A Ship Named Cosmos

By E.J. Denham

This epic tale takes place on an immense vessel named Cosmos, a ship that represents the whole of the universe and everything within her from the micro to the macro. We experience and see this wonderful and complex world through the eyes of our main character, Eon, who, after a chance encounter at "Sanctuary", a gray and dreary bar, sets out on a journey of spiritual discovery full of peril, tears, and joy. On his Adventure, he meets Vile the depressor, a creature who works for the ship's dark and sinister Captain. He comes face-to-face with the all-consuming darkness of the Procession, where dead men are laid to rest and from where the faithful rise again. And he meets the Voice, a being who appears to be made of light who is full of love and mercy. The allegory follows him and his exploits and is meant to provide sound insight and biblical wisdom into the life of Christians young or old, from rebirth to resurrection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644165508

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A Ship Named Cosmos

E.J. Denham

Copyright © 2020 by E.J. Denham

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Its Name Is Cosmos

Wait but a Moment More, Friend

I Would Scour That Great Vault

Why Do You Seek the Blessed Ash?

Hope Yet Shines

Nothing Is Truly Free

What If There Was Only One Ant in the Mound

Sweet Liberation!

Let Me Do the Rest

I’ll See You Tomorrow, My Dear Boy

The Parable of the Prodigal Son

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I would like to give thanks and honor to God for His faithfulness, His provision, and His abundant mercy and incredible grace. Thank you for being good to me even when I was not good to myself and even when I was not good to you.

Thanks to my cousin Ishmael F.. I will never forget the times we spent together in our youth in Natchez, Mississippi. All of those bananas you tricked me into running over while playing Mario Kart, they will be with me forever.

Thank you also, Sylvia V., for your loving spirit and giving heart. The way you raise your children and love your husband not only exemplify godly wifehood and motherhood, but are a model that inspires me and many others and gives us something to hope for.

Tonia, as I write this, you are at a crossroads. I do not know what decision you made, but I am immensely grateful that you saw fit to let me in on your thoughts and hopes and dreams. Your encouragement and support have been invaluable to me over the years. God bless you. Thank you for all the sushi!

Many thanks to many more! My beloved family and my precious friends, I love you all so much. May we all continue to strive to know the Lord.

Preface

I began this book initially as a challenge to myself and nothing more.

The idea was simple. As humans, we are all on a proverbial ship. This ship is sinking, and there are many sirens and warnings telling us to abandon it and seek safety and refuge. The funny thing is, each blaring siren and ear-piercing whistle points us in a different direction from the next siren. Each warning signal has its own solution to the problem of life and all of the other smaller problems that accompany it. Can you hear it, reader? Do you ever feel like this world is headed down a whirlpool or straight into the perfect storm? Do you ever feel a sense of confusion about which siren to heed? If you’re at all like me, you have. This is the idea I wanted to encapsulate and present in a newish and interesting way.

As I wrote, my original idea began to evolve into the idea you will find expressed in the finished product. You might notice some elements of the original ship idea scattered throughout the book, but I think, when all is said and done, that I was being led by God to this end.

I am limited in my powers of description and my writing ability so please forgive me if this, the finished product, is not to your liking. It is my wish to be a blessing to you (or anyone) and present some of the ideas that have been placed within me in a digestible and fascinating way. However, you might find an absence of ideas—ideas of the biblical kind—that you might very well expect to see in a book such as this. This is intentional. I find that I would rather omit an idea than to attempt to capture its quintessence and fail or do the idea a disservice. Please keep this in mind. You will also notice that there are some elements of the book (especially in regards to the ship and its design) that aren’t completely fleshed out and left rather vague. I hope you will forgive me in this as well, those of you who were hoping for a more immersive experience, for skimping on those details. I did not want the focus to be on such minute things as the politics of the people or architecture or even what era the inhabitants of this ship are in, but rather on the ship itself and what it represents. This is why you will find both elements, which you might associate with a futuristic world and elements you might associate with a modern or even pre-modern era. I would even go as far as to say that I hope you find yourself confused on exactly what to imagine or see within this ship. The ship, I felt, could not—or rather, should not—be linked to a particular time period or culture. The ship simply represents earth but also everything beyond Earth and within her. The macro and the micro. It represents the universe itself and all those magnificent and mind-boggling things that she has shown us thus far.

This book is not meant to be a foretelling of the future, but a symbolic retelling of present and future reality as already revealed by scripture. It is my hope that as you read this book about the ship named Cosmos flying through the universe, carrying its inhabitants as well as Eon, the man through whose eyes we experience this world, that you find parallels between your reality and the one I have created and similarities between the people you have met in real life and the ones you will meet in this book. Thank you. May you ever hear the whisper.

Its Name Is Cosmos

Barkeep, I said, another.

Across the bar, a burly man about five feet tall brought me a glass of yellow-green liquid. Admittedly, I had no idea what this potion was but it helped to dull my senses and make me feel that my troubles were far away so I didn’t particularly mind. I downed the questionable concoction in a matter of seconds. On the way down it stung and burned my gullet causing me to cough as my body rejected the sensation.

Take it easy there, fella, the bartender said.

I gave him a modest look and the best smile I could muster. I’ll take it easy—when the Ravagers come for me.

I tried to appear as if I were simply joking but to no avail, I realized, as the bartender strolled to the far end of the bar with a look of a man who had just seen a small tragedy unfold. The bar I happened to find myself in on this particular evening had been christened Sanctuary. It was a gray place with gray walls, gray chairs, gray floors, and gray people. Not gray in the sense of color, but in tone. It was utterly devoid of life and beauty of any kind. And, despite having a few patrons dispersed about here and there, there was hardly even a sound as if the gray was snatching every voice straight from the air.

Suddenly, from behind me on the opposite side of the bar, I heard a gentleman raise his voice. I couldn’t make out the words but there was no mistaking the distinct tenor of an angry man.

Then came another voice, louder than the first, Who in the procession do you think you are? No one believes in that nonsense anymore! Why don’t you get outta here before ya get hurt?

I turned to see the cause of the commotion. On the opposite end of the bar were three men. There were two, both as brawny as the bartender but about a foot and a half taller, who seemed exceptionally angry (as all drinking men eventually become). Each stood stone-faced round and about another man who was sitting down.

Look, my friends, I don’t want any trouble, said the sitting man who, with the exception of a single arm, was completely eclipsed from view by the men he was addressing. He seemed unusually calm as if he was used to being in this kind of situation.

You don’t want any trouble, friend? scoffed one of the standing men, his chest puffed out like it was full of helium. If you don’t get outta here, trouble’s exactly what you’re gonna get.

The sitting man sighed. I’m only telling you for your own safety. The captain of this ship is leading us, the whole of this magnificent vessel, to destruction. Then his voice slowly began to rise. No one is safe. No one. And if you don’t follow me, you are all going to die. He said the words with such conviction that even I, whom he was not even addressing, felt an indescribable heaviness in the pit of my gut. But then again, from what he was saying, he had to be mad or at least nearly so.

Not this nonsense again, derided the second beefy man. Look, we don’t want what you’re sellin’, you old codger. Like I said, it might be better if you left outta here. It wasn’t a suggestion.

The sitting man sighed again and then finally, after taking another sip of his brew and leaving his payment on the table, he stood to his feet. He was small in stature and maybe the thinnest man I had ever seen. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and the look of a man in his twilight years. His skin was as brass, and he had a short round nose. On his forehead was a strange golden mark that I had heard of but never seen from so close, the mark of the Whispering One. I nearly fell out of my seat in an effort to get a closer look at the intricate design of that mark. I had heard that any wearing it were to be avoided at all costs, but this thin brass-skinned fellow didn’t appear the least bit menacing to me.

The brass man continued, Heed my words, fellows. Soon, this vessel, this very ship in which we stand now, will meet an end of the most horrible sort. If you are not covered by this mark, you will perish in a similar fashion. I come to tell you about the One who gave me this mark. He—

All of a sudden, the first tall man swung his fist in a full arch and struck the brass man straight in the eye with a most savage punch. The brass man left his feet for what felt like a few seconds and hit the floor with a resounding boom. The tall men wasted no time. Each grabbed one of the poor man’s arms and dragged him past me toward the front entrance where they, with a great heave and little effort, threw him out of the bar and into the crowded street.

As they proceeded back to their seats, I heard one say, Damned fool, spoutin’ that trash. Leave the relics in the past where they belong. The other laughed.

I hastily put my payment on the table and withdrew outside. The brass man was already on his feet bleeding slightly from his right eye where the man had struck him and, despite being surrounded by concerned-looking pedestrians, seemed perfectly unfazed. Are you all right, sir? I said, knowing the stupidity of the question.

The brass man turned around to see who it was who was addressing him. Would you believe he was smiling? The golden mark on his forehead seemed to be shining brighter than before. Don’t worry about that, my boy! I’m fine. He said with a laugh. Then turning to address the onlookers, he said again, I’ll be fine!

Sir, I asked cautiously, exactly how hard did that man hit you?

He laughed even harder than before. Not hard enough to keep me down, I suppose. Then he started to walk away toward the aft of the ship, passing through the onlookers as if they weren’t there.

Where are you going, sir? I said, following just behind the man at a safe distance, for no normal man could take humiliation like that and smile.

Where am I going? Why, to my home, of course.

My home is also this way, I lied. Would you mind if I accompanied you?

Not at all, my boy, the brass man said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. So maybe he wasn’t so crazy after all. Skepticism, as all know, is a property of the common man. So what is your name, stranger? the brass man asked as we rounded a corner and stepped into the ship’s busy plaza, dodging a group of men cleaning the street accompanied by small sanitation bots who buzzed about snagging every piece of trash the men missed.

My name is Eon, sir. I answered, stepping over one of the bots.

Eon, eh? Now there’s a good strong name for a strapping young man such as yourself.

Thank you, sir. I appreciated the compliment but I wouldn’t let myself be disarmed that easily. May I ask your name? I added.

I’m Xander, was his curt reply.

Mister Xander, could you tell me what happened in that bar? Why were those men so angry with you?

Xander looked at me out of the corner of his eye with a smirk. It’s very simple, son. I was merely trying to share the Truth with them. Truth, my boy, is one of the most inflammatory matters that one might ever discuss. I knew exactly where he was going. Many times throughout my life I had heard men and women, often standing on street corners or on top of platforms on some square or plaza. And they were always screaming into the air about truth, about imminent doom, imminent destruction, and about a man, or men, or deity who could save them. I thought it was all nonsense really, but this time, hearing Xander speak in a cold gray bar surrounded by angry men, I felt like I was prepared to listen just once more. Truth is indeed a funny thing. Xander continued thoughtfully.

How so?

It seems the farther one finds himself from it, the harder it is to stomach, he said, fingering his beard thoughtfully.

I couldn’t help but frown at the thought. Who was this man to claim he knew what truth was anyway? But he seemed sincere enough, and as far as I could tell, he wasn’t a man of the prideful sort. Xander, sir, could I ask you another question?

Sure, son, Xander replied gently as we avoided a caravan of the ship’s engineers transporting a large translucent crate filled to the brim with an iridescent purple fluid.

I’ve heard about your kind, sir?

My kind? Xander chuckled. What, exactly, is my kind, pray tell?

Those with the mark.

Oh, so you’ve heard about this, eh? he said, tapping his index finger on the shimmering symbol.

Yes, sir. The best of good men have said that your kind are the worst of the worst men.

At this, Xander laughed so heartily that half the people in the plaza turned to look at him. The best of good men, eh? Is that so?

Yes, sir, I said, lowering my voice enough for the both of us. They say of your kind that you would just as soon give a man bread as you would stab him in the back. They say that you’re untrustworthy. They say that you’re stuck in the past and that you’re the dumbest people if ever a dumb people existed. That you chase nonsense and believe in fairy tales.

Fairy-tales, huh? Is that right? Xander smiled again as if he saw something particularly funny in the word Fairy-tale. Is that all they say?

I think, worst of all, they say you are friends of the Ravagers.

At this, Xander stopped so suddenly that I nearly ran him over. Now wouldn’t that be something, he said, staring at me with an inexplicable fire in his eyes. Then after looking at a clock hanging atop a nearby building, he said, I appear to have spent more time in that bar than I had initially intended, my boy, and I have plans elsewhere. What do you say we take a detour?

Before I could answer, he took off toward the aft-ship residential zone. I, not really knowing what to do, followed without question. We walked in silence for a long while and at one point we passed a group of beautiful women dressed as extravagantly as any I had ever seen. As they passed Xander, one dressed in red said under her breath, far louder than was necessary, Filthy man. Why don’t you and your Ravager friends leave for paradise already! Her companions laughed as they disappeared into the crowd.

Xander undoubtedly heard but made no indication that he had. He simply walked onward tall and proud. After a moment or two more, he finally broke his silence. What do you think about this ship and its origins, my boy?

What do I think about the origins of this ship? I paused, not knowing exactly what it was that he wanted me to say. Well, as far as I’m concerned, it’s not a matter of thinking. I can speak with a fair amount of certainty, I’m sure.

Can you, now? Xander said with a grin, Well then, let me hear it, my boy.

Well, firstly, its name is Cosmos, and it’s vastly and unimaginably immense.

Yes. And where did it come from? When was it made?

I felt like this was a trick question. Hasn’t it always been at least in some form or another? I answered.

You tell me. Has it?

No one is really sure… In our youth, we are taught that it came out of the Great Void, just like this.

Hmm. That doesn’t sound too certain to me, said Xander, stroking his beard. Though his face was serious and he looked to be honestly contemplating, I couldn’t help but feel as though he was teasing me but before I could speak another word, he added, And what of the people inside? While I was taking a second to consider the question, he went on. As you know, this ship is made of a miraculous substance called Atomite. It can be combined in various ways to various effect in order to yield many different and unique materials. I only nodded. This was information even a child knew. It is both indestructible and nonliving.

Naturally, I answered.

How do you suppose it creates something all on its own?

Seeing where he was going, I prepped my usual argument. Well, as you said before, you can combine Atomite in many ways. Some may even—

Yes, yes. But in this scenario, there is no YOU yet.

I was taken aback. Sir?

Who would combine anything? You were not here yet.

Well, it is a property of Atomite itself. Given time, it can do it on its own. The laws of the ship—or rather, of nature—allow for that.

Ship? Laws? Where is the ship in this scenario? And who wrote those laws, I wonder. Xander inquired.

I don’t understand.

You speak as though this ship would come before the Atomite it is made of. The laws that govern this ship and that dictate how Atomite interacts with itself must have been here before the ship itself, right? They would have to be in existence even before there was any Atomite, right? So if the Atomite can come together on its own, should we assume the same about the laws that govern it? I have never seen a book of laws—or any book, for that matter—write itself. Have you?

No, sir, I admitted.

Who or what do you think wrote the laws that govern the Atomite on, and of, this ship? I didn’t have an answer. So you honestly believe that they wrote themselves then?

I can’t say, but honestly, sir, I don’t feel like I’m the most knowledgeable person on this subject.

This isn’t a matter of knowledge, boy. It’s about sense, a sense of the common variety.

Well—

And while we’re at it, Eon, have you ever seen a lump of Atomite of any kind or variation ever yield something that could not be touched, tasted, seen, or sensed in general?

Sir?

How do you suppose that something immaterial can be brought forth from something material?

Do you speak of a soul?

Yes, perhaps, though I think a better word would be consciousness.

I had to admit it was a compelling question but the answer was simple. Can you prove that consciousness even exists?

Of course, I can. Xander stomped his foot on the hard ground as he walked as though he was marching. This floor is material. When I stomp on it, it neither quivers nor protests. You, however, if you were to be under another’s foot (though you and this floor are both made of the same Atomite), oh how you would object. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. But when you die, although you are physical and those tiny particles from which you are made are effectively indestructible, something will depart from that physical body. Something that, once gone, will render you as one like this cold lifeless floor.

There was nothing I could say and the mention of death made me uncomfortable so I decided to change the subject. And what of the captain you mentioned before?

Oh, him.

It’s common knowledge that this ship has no captain.

Ah, but it does.

Why isn’t this known, then? If there exists one who can pilot such a grand and massive ship as this, he should be heralded as the greatest man in our ship’s history.

He is not the pilot. I said he is the captain.

Is there a difference?

The difference between the two is like the difference between the sky and the sea. They do, indeed, appear close from one perspective, but from another, one finds lightyears between them.

I didn’t really understand but I pushed the question in another way. Why wouldn’t such a man reveal himself? If he did, no doubt we would praise him and recognize him for his service.

He cannot do that, and he serves none but himself.

What do you mean?

As I said, comparing him to this ships true pilot, the Whispering One, is like comparing a lowly broken sanitation drone (or a pile of scraps) to this magnificent ship. He is so filled with hate, malice, bitterness, and pride that to reveal himself would lead to his own downfall. A day is coming when he will show himself, but not yet while even a small Light burns in mankind. It is that light that shows who he really is, and it is why he works from the shadows like a coward to this very day.

At this point, we left the plaza and finally reached the aft-ship residential areas. Xander had stopped the discourse but I felt that there was yet more he wanted to say. Perhaps he just couldn’t find the words. Perhaps it was a kind of fear. I got the impression that he was withholding information as though he was afraid that if he shared what he wanted to share, I would retreat from him. Maybe he just didn’t trust me yet. We made a beeline for the residential park where there were large areas of grass and trees. Children were playing and running through the grass with such vigor and excitement that the air seemed to buzz with energy. Not far away, parents and friends talked jubilantly. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of youthfulness myself at the sight of such a picturesque scene.

I breathed deeply.

Beside me, Xander’s face was one of fervent appreciation, so much so that I couldn’t help but feel as if he was seeing something that I could not. I studied him for a second longer. Deep within his eyes, almost too deep to see with a single glance, I glimpsed something more, a desperate and profound yearning so powerful and pure that I fought the desire to ask him what he was contemplating. For I, too, wished that I could experience such a depth of yearning.

What does this captain truly want? I asked, interrupting the calm and trying to rekindle the conversation.

Xander looked out over the scene for a moment more then turned to face me with a grave expression. If I told you that the captain’s deepest desire was to destroy this ship and all its inhabitants along with himself, what would you do?

Well, I would gather as many people as I could and bring this villain