Short Stories

#AmateurNight: King of Kings | Daniel Nuwamanya

The places in which I dwell are still far from yours…

In the empires in which I fight and reign Death was already conquered, Time already overrun…

I feel for your age.

I will always feel for your age.

Grant me this moment dear reader. For I want to share it with you. Let me tell you of a story. A story you might have heard, but never in my own voice. I remember this story well. How could I not? It is the tale of my great faith and desperation, the moment of my ultimate making.

Let me start In the Beginning.

I was called forth in my beginning, and disembarked from the Light, as all souls do, and for purposes of my training was sent out into the universe. The spirit that I bore was that of a Master. So master I did. On different planets, in different forms, in lifetimes both long and lifetimes fleeting I lived and grew, swelling in understanding. Warrior, teacher, father and even king did I eventually prove to be over the course of the countless reincarnations in which I sought the most elusive quarry that any soul in Creation can seek – It’s true nature.

The Light works in mysterious ways and despite the glory to which I continuously returned, the nature of my ultimate destiny was hidden to me. Little could I have ever dreamt that it would be upon that small blue jewel in space upon which you dwell that I would master my final lesson; ironically enough, by relinquishing all I had for the sakes of those who couldn’t help it that that they hated me.

All the cosmos have since been opened to me dear reader, but there is no spot that I love the way I love that small blue planet spinning merrily round its strangely yellow star – swarming with its turbulent but impassioned species.  As the cosmos treasure a new-born star, so have I likewise I treasured the memory of my final triumph.

Understand dear reader; that for one score and thirteen of your earth years, I too watched the yellow sun blaze its way across the blue firmament. I too thought it glorious. I too thought it a majesty like no other. I too studied its impressions and collected the teachings hidden in its grand arcs and movements. I too under the great sages and teachers of my age studied as you now study. In our days Great Kemt (you call it Aegypt), India and Tibet were the centres of divine power and knowledge. Their glory is forgotten in your age of course.  Their majesty now is nothing more than a distant echo in the memories that carry on the wind. It is the way of mortal life, that the future must hold more value than the past. Remember, I was mortal once too. And even then I understood that this must be so.

My story was meant to end where yours starts. Mine started three years before the hour of unknown reckoning. I was completing my instruction – and also, coming to terms with the path upon which my destiny was thrusting me. It was not easy. Being of an energy divine, possessing a mind most agile and equipped with the talent to cultivate any skill to a degree of life giving (also life taking) perfection; I had never lost, not in 143,999 lifetimes. 40 days and nights I spent in the caves and mountains battling with the Iron God, demanding understanding. Why this end? Why betray the excellence of my soul? I wanted nothing of grandeur if it was mixed with fear, nothing of triumph if it was frustrated by pain.

All my assaults were rejected. And from those lofty heights I departed to Israel, the land of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, my forefathers. For I now knew who it was I obeyed; YHWH, El Shaddai, the Lord and all His Hosts. No strength of mine would be sufficient to attain the fruition of this noble but cheerless end. I had to keep faith.

To my mastery of all things, I therefore added also mastery of faith. Faithful I became, and faithful I remained, till my hour of reckoning when I snatched away the mask that Death created and revealed the true Face of God.

To a lineage of 143,999 lifetimes, I had added the 144,000th. And to the names I had earned in my soul’s journey; warrior, teacher, healer, maestro or king I had earned another that was mightier than them all.

“He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written – king of kings and lord of lords.”

And the government of Heaven rested upon my shoulders.

The story of my quest you already know, for that too has since been written. If you do not know it, know this much at least, that I finished it.

Prince of Peace they crowned me. Conquering Lion, of the Priestly Order of Melchizedek . They await me still to redeem my Word- to bring them home so that where I am, they can be also.

And though the places in which I dwell are still far from them, though Time still haunts and Death still holds dominion – they know I will never betray them; neither shall I forsake them, for they have kept the faith, which is the true Kings of Kings. Surely, I shall be with them always, now and till the End of Days, when they shall look up toward the sky – and see all of my glory reflected in their eyes.

Daniel Nuwamanya is a freelance writer, editor and spoken word artist. He has been published in The East African. Some of his short stories include Pusher, Dying to Live – A tribute to Tupac Shakur, The Vanity MirrorThe Ritual. He is currently working on his first full novel.

#AmateurNight stories  were submitted by writers during our previous #MEiREAD Amateur Nights. During Amateur Night, writers share unpublished work and receive feedback from member of the book club. Tell us what your thoughts are in the comments section.

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