Tainted But Not Forgotten

Driving to work is becoming depressing. When the world was in chaos, as it had been for millenniums, the traffic at this very spot was unbearable. Money hungry businessmen and women, racing to get to their offices for their early meetings with investors. Investors, scrambling through the highways, rushing to get to a computer to snag another client for their pyramid scheme. Clients, carpooling through the HOV lanes in hopes to make it to their warehouse jobs before the bell rang deeming them late. Then there was, I. A mother and widow, driving to work in efforts to keep the lights on; avoiding an accident caused by any of those lunatics. Those were the “good times”; but that was then. Nowadays, I am just one woman among the tainted, pretending to care if I make it to work on time.

"Post-apocalyptic" is what they would call it. But is it? When the sky began to open with trumpets blaring harmonic notes, the roads were congested. People were traveling nonstop to see if their loved ones were picked up by the openings. The streets and highways were in chaos; more than usual. On February 23, 2023, the first sighting of the sky opening was reported. It snowed on the beaches of Southern California that day. The wind was light, the skies were gray and the feeling was eerie. I remember that day. I thought it was the worst day of my life.

While at work, on that February day, I received a phone call from Gema's school. Gema was my beautiful six-year-old daughter. Hysterically hyperventilating, the generalist at her school struggled to put her words together. After thirty-six seconds of trying to understand her, I came to realize what I was hearing. All the children had been raised into the sky by what was described as "angels with trumpets". Rushing through the highway, I finally made it to her school. The other parents were frantic about what the school staff explained as a "miracle". Our children had been playing outside when a bright light parted the glooming sky and trumpets were heard for miles and miles. The children eased the teachers by telling them "...please tell our mommies and daddies not to worry, Father God is opening the gates for us. Don't be scared. We will all see each other very soon." The children were gone and the sky was reverted back to its normality.

Luckily, I was able to catch the baby sitter, Alma. My ten-month-old daughter, Daisy, had also been taken to the sky. Apparently, an angel had come to visit Alma before I arrived. I knew this woman was a saint when I first met her as a child. Alma took care of me when my parents lost control of their emotions. It became routine for them to drop me off at her house as they returned home to smash whatever plate or cup they seemed fit to sacrifice during their arguments and rage. There was something so angelic and pure about the love that that woman showed me. Anyway, Alma eased my pain with the most beautiful words any mother can hear, "...they are perfect! God is saving them from the torment and destruction that the world will face. He's taken all the innocent souls of the world; all at once. I have seen Gema and Daisy, they are so beautiful and filled with... I can't even explain. I will be joining them soon. You have done a great job at protecting their innocence." Alma didn't continue. I began to hear trumpets outside of her home. She heard them as well. Tears of joy filled her beautiful wrinkly skin as we walked outside of her home. The sky opened for her. I didn't see what was at the other side of the bright hole in the sky, but I did see the happiness one cannot describe upon Alma's face. As she disappeared before me, I felt a calm but profound pain in my heart. The weight of grief brought me to my knees.

My obvious next stop was to my parent's house. They were older in age and had time to repent their inner sins before this day. About a year before God started to take His innocent children, I had enrolled moms and pops in "La Luz - Marriage Counseling for the Tired"; a course specialized to help older Hispanic couples with inner traumas to find love and forgiveness. They found the love they once had for each other. This led them to renew their vows in the same church they once married in thirty-three years ago. For thirty-two years they disagreed in every aspect of decision making and in less than one year of counseling they were happily enjoying the ounce of love they had hanging on by a thread. They were also gone. I was happy for them. I figured that the counseling truly worked for them after all.

Two months after Daisy was born, my husband Ezekiel was involved in a horrible accident. He worked early mornings and late nights as I stayed home with the girls. That night, while he drove, we argued about something stupid; forgetting to clean the litter box. He lost control of his work truck and was killed on impact. Losing him is still the biggest pain I carry with me. Our marriage was like all marriages; arguments about taking out the trash or meaningless fights about what roses I wanted for Valentine’s Day. One thing was for sure, though; our love was real. A love so real that I could not forgive God for taking him away from me so suddenly.

It has been seven years since God began to lift the kind, innocent and devoted, but I remain in the same heartbreak and in the same place. My anger with God has kept me on Earth. I have no one left. I have the same route to the same job; the same check for my same... empty... meaningless... life. The sky opens less and less every day. I remember driving down this very freeway and the sky would open every four minutes. "Wow, there goes another one." I would say. Now, it opens once every day. You would think that the world would be in chaos, but it's not. It's depressing. The world has truth and no crime is reported. Everyone that hasn't been picked up try their best to be "saved". We all know the truth. Even some non-believers have repented, accepted God and have been lifted to the skies. I have witnessed the local drug dealers… well, ex-drug dealers, be lifted with no hesitation. Everyone is trying hard to be accepted.

There is no longer a government. There was however a world-wide announcement by the United Nation Director, Erin Ackiner, that left everyone in a zombie-like state for about a year.

"The ones who are left behind have hope. Be kind. He is real. Repent and you'll be ushered to His gates. He is real. The world will end soon. Repent. The ones left behind to suffer will have no purpose in His Kingdom and will burn."

This message repeats over and over again on the only broadcasting radio station in the nation. There's no gossip, no award shows, no concerts of demonic rituals, nothing. Contrary to all those ‘end of the world’ movies that Hollywood had embedded into our heads, the world is not in flames or in complete disarray. The world is calm. At first, people couldn’t understand what was truly happening, but after a while, we all knew the truth. God, in His complete merciful glory, was saving the ones who deserved it. Everyone is fearing of God now. As it should have been since the beginning.

I guess the real reason why Adam and Eve did what they did was because of “doubt”. They didn’t truly know that biting the apple had direct repercussions, but now, we, the descendants of their original sin, know the truth.

I remain in disbelief of our current state. Most of us have resumed our normal lives. We go to work and get a pay check but it doesn’t mean anything, really. No one is breaking the law, no one is money hungry. The lights and gas stay on because if the owners were to shut them down, they too will burn, therefore, they keep them on. The poor are being helped, then fed, then raised to the heavens. The rich are learning how to be humble and the everyday-joe and jane, like myself, are just living. Just breathing. We go to work to pass the time. We get our check, we deposit, we go shopping for food, we go to bed and we repeat. We stay in place. We all do the bare minimum to not lose our minds. We try not to think in vanity, or complain about the weather. We all know the truth and we all don’t know why we were left behind.

“Tainted but Not Forgotten” is a group that I have been attending for about three months now. Originally, the idea of the group was to speak about our loved ones and our epiphanies on how to be lifted. Perhaps that was the answer to be reunited with our families. When most of the group realized that the number of members weren’t diminishing but in fact, growing, they began to talk about their pain and confusion on why they remained instead. The group has organized many events in efforts to promote happiness and self-perseverance, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Not many get lifted and if they do, not many notice. I don’t speak or participate at these things. I watch and listen as I hear the pain dripping from their mouths. Like the ice-cube that escaped from the Sunday barbecue chest while a cold brew is lifted. Melting away from existence as the sun remained hot and present for the happy cheers of children running through the sprinklers. My Gema was always so excited for summer. She would run like a cheetah with no loss of energy. My Daisy never had the chance to experience “running”. At the time she was lifted, she only crawled. She never felt the contrast of cold droplets hitting her warm face as she ran through the water like her older sister, a crazed wild animal.

Tonight’s meeting is short due to the speaker, Adam, having a mental breakdown. He started off with the group’s mantra, “We are tainted but we are not forgotten”. Shortly and slowly after that, he began to ramble on about his old life. He was a banker who approved loans for the middle class. He did some sketchy transactions during the original cleansing. He thought it was a good idea to ask for majority of the loans back before their agreements were expired, due to the world ending, of course. Filling his customers with doubt and fear for not paying back, well, you can imagine his demise. Tonight, he started to talk about how stupid and selfish he was and proceeded to weep. He left the stage and did not return. We are all headed home now.

Driving home… every night… to an empty house… is becoming depressing. Becoming? No, it is. How am I still here? Day after day I sit in this same driver seat thinking to myself, “WHY AM I STILL HERE!? I was a good person! I am a good person- I mean, I wasn’t the best, but who was? Arnie, the drug dealer, sold drugs! To kids! How was he lifted before me?! God, what kind of sick joke is this?! Why do you keep me here!?” … and day after day I remain confused and depressed.

As I park my car in my drive way, I notice my living room light is on, which is weird, because saving energy is what we were told to do, therefore, I know I shut it off. I park my car and make my way to the front door. I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling that I haven’t felt in such a long time. Fear? Anticipation? I’m not sure. For years I’ve stayed stale in emotions; knowing the truth and still not understanding makes you this way.

I walk into what seems to be my empty house. No doors seem to be broken into, granted, no one locks their doors anymore, and all my windows are shut. The living room light is indeed on but I am sure I turned it off. As I reach over for the off-switch, I notice a shadow behind me. Adam, the speaker from the group reveals himself and begins to speak nonsense. In a frantic plea, he yells, “You have to believe me! He isn’t real! None of this is real! It’s the government! God doesn’t exist! We are all going to die and end up nowhere!”. I try my best to calm him. “Adam! Listen to me!” I yell. “You are o.k.! Remember! ‘We are tainted but not forgotten’ Say it with me!”. Adam is not interested in hearing my voice. He pushes me away and I fall back slamming my head on something hard. I reach towards the back of my head and notice I am bleeding. The scent of fresh cut grass overwhelms me.

Newly wedded, my sweet Ezekiel, carved a center table for me. I kept asking him to carve me something “I’ll actually use” since he was always in his studio carving bird houses. Comically, the table could not withstand the weight of a coffee mug. It wasn’t until I told him to place it in the corner of the living room entry, that I realized I actually loved it. It was made out of eucalyptus tree. I remember how it smelled; like spring. It was an art piece from his heart and was displayed as such. Its sole purpose was not for holding or keeping objects displayed; it was to remind us of our love. Imperfect but valuable.

Bleeding only happens when you are hurt. I had forgotten how bad it felt; pain. A quarter inch wound on the back of my head began to drench my hair and hands of blood. Adam looks at me with fear, an emotion I’m sure neither of us have felt since 2023. Right before my eyes, something I have never seen, and I don’t think anyone has, appears before me. The ground opens. The room gets dark and I could hardly breathe. Adam, standing over a hole that appeared in the center of my living room, looks back at me. In a soft whisper, “I’m sorry…” escapes from his breath. He is sucked into the hole and no remains of his six-foot, 190-pound body is left behind. The smell that lingers in my home is so strong that I begin to regurgitate. The taste of salt permeates my taste buds. The smell is overwhelming. Everything begins to fade. Miraculously the front door opens. A smooth breeze enters my home and brushes against my blushed faced. Silence filled my house as I sat in desolation.

Thoughts flood my mind after what I just witnessed. “The floor opening? Is this normal?” Up to now, only the sky has opened; not the floor. Is there a Hell, now? I rush into the bathroom in search of my first-aid kit. As I hold it in my hand, I realize, I haven’t needed this kit since Daisy accidently scratched her nose and made herself bleed. Those cute little fingernails. How I long her breath on my breast as she drank from me. A feeling I took for granted. Her eyes, how they looked up to me as if I was the true fountain of life. I was her shade in the scorching heat of her first heat-wave. She was the warmth on my chest that kept my heart burning for her acceptance of my love.

Adam’s face stays in my mind. A week has flown by and I have not returned to work. I wonder if they assume I have been lifted. At work, my boss, Leonard, warned us that if he ever went missing to not look for him. He wanted to make a point that he would be one of the first ones to go. He has not gone missing, just like the rest of them, he remains working, but not me. I can not leave my house. Over and over it replays in my head. No reports have been made or at least none that I am aware of. My mind is cloudy with “what if’s” as if any of it made a difference. Why did God want me to see that? Why? Is His torture of keeping me here without my babies not enough anymore? Was taking everyone, I ever loved not enough? Am I not enough for them? Am I not enough for Him? Day after day, I sit in this living room and ponder on every mistake I have ever made. Was it because I accidently stole a bag of chips one time? Was it because I cursed at my parents out of frustration while they fought? What is it?

I have exhausted every meaningless question in my mind and I think it is time to head outside. When I would have fits as a child, Alma would always tell me to go outside and get some fresh air. When the weather was too cold to go outside, she would lay my head on her lap and blow on my face. Fresh spearmint from her garden would always keep her breath as pure as her heart. No natural air can compare to how calm she would make me.

Since I have not gone outside for a week, my mailbox is flooded with notices from the “Tainted But Not Forgotten”. I open one of the biggest envelopes and begin to read, “ATTENTION: THE GROUND HAS OPENED. THE WORLD WILL SOON END. BEWARE. REPENT!”. In a furious rage, I begin to rip up the letter in my hand. I can not bare this mind twisting movie I am living in anymore. I drop to my knees and begin to yell at the sky.

“God! I’m talking to you! You listen to me! Why have you done this to me? Why was I not enough for you? I took care of the children you lent me and I knew they were yours to begin with! You took my mother and father, and even then, I knew I was not theirs to keep, anyway! But Ezekiel! Why did you take him from me?”

My head becomes heavy and it drops to the concrete road. Before I could lift my head, I see a pair of feet in front of me. I look up and realize it’s a young girl. She is wearing a white dress with an orange scarf. “Why do you curse at God as you do?” she asked. Ignoring her first question, I ask in return, “Who are you?”. She smiles and sits next to me on the hard concrete. “My friends call me, Lily.” she says. I respond, “Well since we are not friends, what is your name?” She smiles and bows her head, looking at the rocks on the ground, “You may call me Lily, friend.” I am distraught and weak from cursing at the sky that I do not have the energy to argue with this random teenager. Her accent is not Californian, and I do not have the need nor curiosity to ask her once more. I sit in silence as she begins to speak.

“You know, you are one tough woman. I’ve seen so many mothers fall and never get up. Are you aware of the strength you possess? All of these new blessings have surely made you accept your armor…”

I think to myself, “Did she just say “blessings”?”. Although I am not interested, how can this random kid tell me about my “blessings”? She doesn’t even know me. She continues to speak.

“I know, I know, you don’t know me, but I know you. I was sent to you, to help you. I would have come sooner but I wanted to learn a bit more. You see, I wondered if you still had humanity. I was told that you were special, but I had to see for myself. The world is ending and no mistakes can be made. In fact, no mistakes are ever made. He knows everyone’s heart...”

Before she can continue, I cut her off by exclaiming, “I’m sorry, “He”? Look, I know you probably live on my street and you have probably wondered about me, but I am fine. I am just overwhelmed. I’m sorry, but I’m going back inside my house and I hope you do not follow me.”

As I am walking away, she follows. “Hey Bug…” she says. My heart stops. “What did you just say?” I ask. She smiles and says “Do I have your attention now?”.

I feel like throwing up. Memories of who I once was flood my entire being. Ezekiel used to call me “Bug”. I turn and look at her and I see her grinning with the face of hope. A face a have not seen in a long time. “What did you call me?” I repeat. She walks toward me and sits me on the bench in front of my house. Like word vomit, the words I have harbored until now begin to surface. I can no longer hold on to these thoughts. I begin to weep and confess.

“I was selfish, I was needy, I was a burden! He had just called to ask about dinner and I started to nag about the cat litter. I hated that cat, he knew that, he wanted to keep it, but I didn’t. Why did he call me while driving? He knew he didn’t have Bluetooth, he knew it was dangerous! I killed him! I made him lose control! I killed him. I’m the worst kind of human. God has every right to keep me here! I was selfish, I was unbearable. My sweet baby girls deserved someone better. Someone who could provide, I should have gone to college. I should have gotten a degree. We lived pay check to pay check. I couldn’t even afford a present for Gema on her birthday. My parents started doing better when I stopped visiting them. It was me! I was the cause of their chaotic marriage. It was all me. God, I know you have kept me here because of me, I know that! I just want the pain to end! Please God, send me wherever you want, just make the pain stop!”

Lilly begins to cry with me. Two random people… sitting on a bench… crying with each other. Lilly places her hand on my heart and begins to hum. A weight I had become accustomed to is lifted. The fog that has crowded my head is clearing up and the stress on my eyes has been vanquished. I can see now. Lilly stops humming and says to me, “Many don’t know how heavy they make themselves. You don’t need to hold on to that any more. I have taken it from you. You should hear them soon.” She gets up from the bench, hugs me, and walks away. Relief and confusion over power me. I want to sleep. Although I feel weightless, I am exhausted.

My inner chaos has settled. I begin to head inside my house but quickly stop. An echo reaches my ear. The wind starts to pick up and blows off the dead leaves in my way. The once gloomy gray skies begin to clear and I begin to hear birds. Funny, I know I have seen birds lately but I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve heard them. Tears begin to roll down my face.

I hear trumpets.

Author:

Betty Del Castillo