Thank you for joining me for another round of Book Tuesday authors. Today we have a special guest and friend of Howard Loring, author of The Elastic Limits, and he has been kind enough to let me choose from his wonderful work. His name is Peter Piazza and his book is available from Amazon.
Please click on the pic below for further details.
I have chose Ascendance Through The Fall as my excerpt from his book for a number of reasons. It might appeal to everyone but the idea, the different perspective of a fateful day, made me sit up and read this story again. I would love to hear your thoughts on this story and I’m sure Peter would appreciate some feedback on his work.
Right, enough chatter and onto Peter’s work. Enjoy!
Crystal clear crispness prevailed throughout the glorious atmosphere of an especially memorable early autumn morn. The sky was deep teal blue and the cool dry air was congenial and invigorating. The xanthic sun was golden yellow and glimmering, robust in its magnificent ebullience.
Summer had nearly reached completion, and as autumn dawned it brought with it the withering of life which once flourished in the vernal season. There was nothing about this particular bright day, ignited with an early morning frost, which would hint of the unimaginable, seething darkness about to unleash.
While standing on the ground only a short distance from a statuesque urban skyscraper, my gaze was fixed toward the direction of the monumental tower soon to be beset. I stood marveling at the over-whelming beauty of the firmament in its backdrop, when suddenly a thunderous explosion emanated from the edifice. A bomb had been detonated near the buildings top. My focus immediately turned from the majestic morning sky, directly toward the iconic structure, specifically to its upper tiers where people within were eventually forced to the periphery of the inferno. Plumes of black smoke wafted into the sky, and though the endless visibility of that morning had instantly become mired, one particular man, whose torso I saw half hanging from a window, stood clearly in my sight.
Even until today I can recall with vivid detail everything about that man. He wore a gray suit and a white shirt with a conservative tie not clasped. His face was clean shaven, his eyes were soft and his hair was shiny and sandy brown. He was a good man, a courageous man. Kindness and integrity were at the foundation of his character. He was young, no more than thirty five or forty years old. His career was nearing its zenith and his family, consisting of a loving wife and several beautiful young children were in full bloom. These and other minute details about him became instantaneously and inexplicably clear to me, holding the same clarity as the crystal clear sky held only moments earlier. Without so much as a handshake or a spoken word he had become a dear new friend.
There was nothing about this man that would signify he had reached the terminal moment of his prospering life. However, I knew with a knowing which cannot be described that he was soon destined for a different existence, one imbued with far greater joy than all the blessings life had thus far bestowed upon him. I knew with an undeniable clarity that he was imminently destined to rise much higher than the lofty heights of the smoldering building, higher even than the joy to which his family and career had elevated him. Nonetheless, I held not a morsel of a doubt that his family would remain forever indelibly etched within his heart, never to be forgotten.
The crowds that were gathered around me watched in recalcitrant awe as the relentless fire burned with a fury they never before witnessed. It was evident to me, though not necessarily to others, that the landings adjacent to where the bomb had directly impacted offered no egress whatsoever. Neither elevators nor stairwells were accessible to those whose bodies stood pressed against the windows as they frantically signaled for any manner of rescue from their futile predicament. Just as the others before them who perished at the moment of detonation, these beings knew they too were doomed, certain to be consumed in the inescapable raging flames.
My focus remained on the man I had mysteriously come to befriend and know so intimately. None around me could anticipate as could I what would occur next. There was a defining choice confronting the man I had come to know and care for so deeply. He had to choose the method of his physical death. He needed to decide between incineration and a perilous fall from the distant height of the window upon which he was perched. As I knew he would, he chose to jump.
People all about me cringed with horror as he hurled himself from the window, soaring to the ground in free form. They shrilled in terror at the fear and agony they envisioned was upon him,… but that’s not what I saw. I know what I saw. I’m absolutely certain of what I watched and experienced as his body accelerated toward the ground. I saw his spirit, and with his unspoken word I was graciously granted permission to participate in the journey it had taken. I was attuned not to his body whose suffering was now entirely vanquished, but rather to his soul, where a good friend should be focused. The tortuous screams around me, though deafening to some, were muted as I was undeniably assured of his safety and salvation. I could see he had risen far beyond the plumes of smoke, far above the once grandiose building peak, and was now nestled in the arms of an all powerful and compassionate embrace. Indeed, he was cradled and protected. I could see in the once crystal clear sky that he’d been lovingly guided to the gateway of another dimension in which only immeasurable joy exists. The darkness instilled upon this pristine day of beauty had not brought him to ruin. The torrid flames that had imprisoned him burned only the last vestiges of anything that separated him from his higher self. They could not deny him emancipation. Rather, they facilitated his transition into unhampered freedom.
Most watched, riveted in their trauma, as people died that day,… but that’s not what I saw. I’m very certain of what I saw. I watched my new found friend not felled in defeat, but risen up in triumphant victory. I experienced the devious deeds of evil undone that day. I came away a changed man, forever an improved man. Without so much as a handshake or a spoken word I made a dear new friend that day; a friend I’ll treasure for all eternity.
Friends share things with friends, and as a good friend he allowed me to share not in the demise of his mortal frame, but rather in the glorious liberation of his eternal spirit. He willingly permitted me the unique opportunity to bear witness as his soul gained ascendance through the fall, into a sanctuary where the only flames that burn are the glowing embers of tranquility and love.
Thank you for reading. Don’t forget, if you would to read more of Peter’s positive prose and poetry, I Have Nothing To Give is available to purchase from the link below.