Advanced Role-Play Systems 

  • The Marshals Journal: Entry #1 : The Great Commission

  • Describe your in-game persona
Describe your in-game persona
 #3784  by WrknClssHero
 
How am I not dead?

I was shot too. Five, maybe six times or more. I cant be sure. I know my eyes closed and I felt my last breath leave me.

I found myself bathed in light and inexpressible warmth. I carried no weight and knew no burdens. Is this. . . .you Jesus? Have you brought me home? I can feel . . . freedom. No recollection of . . . .the pain. Only warmth, like the sun feels on my skin in early spring, and. . . and peace.

Yet this bliss is only for a moment, hailing in thunder behind it ! A great and thunderous sound more than human ears could bear. YOUR VOICE MY LORD ! Your words thundered mightily as they were when you spoke forth creation into being ! Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?" Then my soul cried out, "Here I am Lord. Send me!" It was as if I knew his request deep down in undiscovered countries of my spirit, and then once more His voice declared aloud "LET THERE BE ! ". The great light shown all around me once more and then I felt myself drift away from it.

I'm awake.

How am I not dead?

It has been 2 months or so maybe, since my eyes opened. I have been shot twice in that time. The first, or should I say the second rather(Im guessing), was a sawed off shotgun. Right in the gut. I thought maybe I was unconscious, but when I awoke, there was blood everywhere , and yet there were no wounds to be found.

How can this be? Point blank range!

How am I not dead ?

The next bullets I took came from a Kalashnikov, I think at fifty yards . I thought I might make it, but then I heard the footsteps, and then the burning hot barrel of the rifle pressed into my temple. He pulled the trigger I'm sure. I heard the shot. It should've blown more than my ears out.

How? Am I fucking crazy?!

HOW . . .AM. . . I. . . .NOT. . . .DEAD !!!

I certainly should be, but instead I feel bad about my foul mouth. As if I don't have bigger things to think about. A 7.62mm round through my brain should relieve me of the burden of conscious thought, but here I am, writing this journal instead.

So I wandered. I wandered some more. I don't even care if I get killed anymore. Of course, would it even be real? Alive, dead, dead. alive. I cant tell the difference any more. My wandering lead me back to Novo, where my dad used to preach at the cathedral. I kinda just strolled through the center of town, tempting fate like a lunatic with a death wish. Really ! I thought I might just be able to get myself killed for real this time.

Not today though. Nope.

Today I found my way back to church. I sat down in a pew and stared at the pulpit for a while. I swear I could almost hear the sermon. Jesus died and rose again. Jesus died and rose again. Jesus died and rose again, rose again, rose again, ROSE AGAIN ! My lunacy stepped aside and submitted to revelation. Okay, okay...I am not Jesus ! This I know with absolute certainty. So what am I then? No I'm not in hell. Hell is far worse than this and besides, I heard God speak. I heard His voice. Who am I then?

I walked outside and then south to the main route. I headed west and pondered this question. It consumed me. I almost walked into a police car I was so fixated on the question, but a weird flash of sunshine broke my focus and drew my eyes to the police station. The light seemed to shine on the place rather oddly. My curiosity compelled me inside. Upon entering I ascended the stairs where I saw the suns light around an office door as if trying to burn through it. I opened the door of course.

That's how these stories go in the movies. It was not bright inside as I expected(in fact it was rather dark in the room)but it didn't need to be bright. The light showed me all I needed to see. There was the corpse of a man seated at a desk, his head rolled back, facing the ceiling like he knew which way heaven was. His hands were on the desk palms up, when I saw it. That sunlight shown through the window over his shoulder and found its mark. It was a badge. Not your standard local PD badge, no, this one was different. It was a ring with a star at its center.

I remember my father mentioned it once when I was young. He said " You don't see a man come around wearing one of those unless there's real serious business that needs tending to". I felt something stir within me. A kind of "knowing" rose up. A great feeling of purpose followed it, and I took hold of the badge from the dead mans hand. I pinned it on my breast pocket and went to walk out of that office when I noticed something else. The black Stetson on the coat rack. "A Marshal needs a hat" I determined aloud. I walked outside to see the sun setting behind the trees as if it's duty had been done. Then I turned west, and set out to do mine.