Ten Years Ago:
His hand trembled as he held the cigarette, doing his best to keep it dry amid the pouring rain. His fingers, shaking from both the cold and the most recent stinging events fumbled with the lighter, failing to turn the spark wheel. After a few moments, the warm ember of flame lit up a haunted face - A man at his very bottom.
For some time, he stood on the bridge, allowing the rain to saturate every element of his being.
He took a deep drag off the cigarette, allowing the smoke to waft like a dampened halo as he stared blankly over the edge of the bridge. He tried to close his eyes, block out the emptiness that seemed to fill every crevice and nook inside of him, finding nothing but the cold faces of former friends and employers. There was a terribly abyss looking up at him from places deep inside, and it was that moment that he had lost the will to resist that eventual pull that would consume every element of who he was.
He had lost another job, and with that, the last shred of self-respect and hopeful possibility. Of course, he had reasoned that he had lost himself already by taking the position with the Morning Zoo, but the stunts and 'antics' had reduced him to shilling for what he assumed was a better position in the radio hierarchy. It wasn't just the fact that he had learned that he was not respected as an equal amid the decision makers and 'newscasters', it was that he was their own private joke - a name used to elicit guffaws and behind the back jokes. He had become that - A joke...a private jester for those who deemed themselves his betters. The image of those faces made him choke up a bit, making his trembling hands shake uncontrollably out of pain and anger, but he was tired - Too tired to fight the abyss any longer.
The cigarette was nearly finished. The last bit of ashes drifted down in a soppy mess, made more so by the increase in the rain. He dropped the butt over the edge, watching it quickly disappear into the wet darkness. His eyes strained to see the bottom, but found that he could not - a long drop that would mark the end of it all. His hands tightened around the railing, as he could almost hear the barbs being exchanged between the station - the big joke. He closed his eyes tightly, letting out a sigh that was a mixture of emotions. Would there be anyone who really cared enough? Would there be a moment in which they realized that he had value, that his views and presence meant something more than a cheap joke or a hurried impression of him? Would his death even register?
There were too many thoughts like that crowding his mind as he pulled himself over the rail, holding the edge of it while straining to decide to let go.
'Nash Milton' the voice called out to him. The suddenness and clarity of the voice nearly caused him to let go. For a moment, he wasn't certain if he had heard someone calling his name or if he had simply imagined it. For the moment, he stared forward, until he heard his name called again;
'Nash Milton' the voice called again. It was a woman's voice, a voice that caused him to turn away from the drop and back towards the other side of the rail.
She stood amid the pouring rain as if she was an angel. The rain seemed to fall around her, as he stared unable to react. Her features were exotically beautiful, framed by a black hat that seemed to shield her from the rain, and despite the fact he couldn't see her eyes, he knew that she was looking directly at him.
'Nash Milton' she began again, staring at him with unseen eyes, 'Such a fall without a chance at ascension is indeed a pity.'
'S-stay b-back' Nash said brokenly, his hands gripping the slick rail, leaning forward, 'I'll do it...I...I need to do it'
'Why?' the woman asked, her voice genuinely concerned. In a simply word, Nash felt more compassion and sincerity than he had heard in years.
'Do you feel all is beyond hope?'
'Hope....' Nash started, his fingers tightening against the metal, digging into his hands, 'What hope do I have? It's all hopeless'
'Hopeless?' The woman said, questioningly before taking a few steps forward, 'No Nash...not hopeless....never hopeless. I bring you great tidings...'
'Tidings?' Nash felt himself responding, trembling now with a sensation he couldn't quite place. It was as if someone had crossed his grave, which in consideration of the situation, wouldn't necessarily be out of place, 'Tidings...' Nash added, 'How....How did you know my name?'
'As I said' the woman added with the glimpse of a smile, 'I was sent to you...with glad tidings'
Nash watched her move forward, the rain seemingly avoiding the strange woman. Closer under the sodium light Nash could see her better. She was a tall woman, a woman of extraordinary features in a black and white dress. For a long moment, Nash was left speechless, his hands relaxing ever so slightly from the edge of the rail.
It was that moment that Nash lost his balance, his feet giving way in the slippery edge.
Nash felt himself lurching forward, the darkness yawning below him, and he felt himself pitch over the edge. A sudden jerk moved him back, as he felt his arm wrench nearly out of socket. He dangled over the edge, held in place by the woman's hand. Nash felt himself pulled back, lifted from the rim to the solidness of the bridge.
'Why?' Nash managed after a long while, his voice nearly above the din of the light falling rain. Nash didn't look up, didn't face his savior, sitting in a puddle where he had been dropped.
'You have a destiny, Nash Milton' the woman added, as she adjusted her long opera gloves, 'And this destiny is one of great importance in what must come'
'Destiny?' Nash added, 'What destiny?'
'Glorious destiny' she added, looking again at him, 'for *he* has need of you. Serve willingly your destiny and the rewards are....boundless'
Her hand reached down to him, and Nash felt his own move up, at first reluctantly, to meet her grasp.
There was something in the strength of the woman that amazed him, but it was matched with the absolutely coldness of her. It was as if she were a porcelain doll, beautiful to look at, but cold and hard to the touch. Nash looked into her eyes for the briefest of moments, the first time he had really seen them, and felt himself shudder - There was no warmth in the woman's eyes at all.
'A wise decision, Nash Milton' the woman added, a small smile creasing her perfect red lips, 'A wise decision. *He* will be pleased'
'Is it a new job?' Nash asked, his own greed rising again.
'A glorious job...where you will see yourself a god among men' She added, her smile continuing, 'And no one will mock you ever again...'
Nash felt himself flush, and yet, he knew somewhere he was making the deal with the devil. The woman had come to him at his lowest point, and yet, he could not shake the feeling that somehow, he would have been better off at the bottom of the abyss.
______
Today
He stood as the make-up girl continued to apply last minute touch-ups. His personal assistant continued to read off the bullet-point topics, and his guests had all supplicated themselves for the moment on his show. He had restarted his career that night so long ago, and took what the woman had said to heart. She had become his muse, his dark angel that guided him to shaping his new image. Now Nash Milton was an icon of a political generation.
Nash recalled his initial hesitation, how could he have been so foolish? His net worth in book sales, television revenues, and the talk radio circuit alone made him a wealthy giant among men. When Nash Milton said something, people listened, even the most ardent of critics.
Nash stared out amid the sea of producers, technicians, and underlings that made the show happen. Somewhere amid the mass she stood, and Nash smiled at her with as he emerged onto the stage.
The teleprompter lit up with a light neon, but Nash had long since abandoned its practical use. Nash was plugged in directly to *him*, and the sense of purpose and power filled his every being. The set had the icons of patriotism and blackboards where he made his own notes and 'realizations' His set was carefully modeled after George Washington's personal study, and the digital screen had already brought up the issues that Nash would press upon a willing population.
'Good Evening America, I'm Nash Milton...and this is 'Eyewitness'. Tonight friends, we will talk about the abuses of power....the abuses of liberty....and what you need to know....'
Nash smiled to the camera, but it wasn't just his smile...*He* was working through him....and the sheep would listen...and follow.
____
ECLIPSED
MARSCON
JAN 17 - 19 2014
