The Hero of Light

This is my first real attempt at writing anything substantial. I'm hoping to be able to turn this short story/free verse poem into a novel. Please let me know what you think.

I know it's weird and confusing, it's supposed to be. And I haven't done a whole lot of editing, so there may still be some things that should be changed.

I know my writing style gradually changes a bit... but try to look at this more like an outline for a future novel than as a story of it's own.
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There is a battle of light against dark
A plethora of all the world’s armies
All gathering around one source of gold
Ready to guard, to destroy, and to create

Destruction and new births beside all that is wrong
A hero of light, but an enemy of god
He rides under the cover of darkness, on the final hour of existence
A saviour to some, hated by most

What follows is the account of The Hero of Light and his rise:

For every hundred who are to live, one thousand are to be killed
For it was realized there is not enough space for all in heaven
But the question was given, Who is to decide where the souls shall rest?
And someone of power said, “He who is purest of all, is he who is God”

So it was known to all those who walk upon the Earth,
God walks among us, he is not of the skies
We have created our own god
And it was asked, “Is he to be a god to serve, or a god to be served?”

The one of power then answered “I am a god of the people, pure in heart, generous in spirit”
And the people rejoiced, they sang and danced and were without worry
Their god was to protect them, in this they had faith
He was to lead them out of the hell of the past, and into a heaven of the future

But it was realized, their god was to give everyone a seat in heaven,
But it was said before there wasn’t enough room for all
Yet their god, he said, “Do not have despair, my people, for surely room can be made”
And again, the people rejoiced, they sang and danced and were without worry

Yet there was but one young boy who was skeptical of the new god
He was silent, for he knew if he spoke, he would be labeled a fool
No one wanted to hear that which was not joyful and full of hope
It seemed logic and reason had left our world, and the enemy of god was surely the enemy of the people

This one boy, young in age but with wisdom beyond that of any other in the land
He seemed to be the only one living who could remember that space in heaven was limited
For was that not the reason God came to be from the beginning?
This boy knew God was here only by his own power, and not due to a purity of heart and generosity of spirit.

The boy was an observer, and he saw the shepherd’s staff of God
But he was no sheep, he was a wolf, a wolf in sheep’s skin
As the boy walked alone, seven years passed by, and seven years he did age
The boy had grown in both mind and body into a young man

The young man was yet the only living who remembered the things which others had forgotten
He remembered people others say never did exist
“Your friends you say you once had are but creations of your imagination,” they would scream
Yet he remembered, people who had vanished

He also remembered a story of a king of ages long gone by,
A king who had two sons, one who was loyal, and one who wished to betray his father and steal the kingdom for himself
In these old times, the people were happy and without worry, but they were ruled with truth and love, not lies and false love
This old kingdom fell by the hands of the son who did betray, as it was recorded, the king’s final words:

“You are a son of mine, you are blessed and it will be your descendent who restores our former glory.
You will soon perish as will I, but rest assured that your bloodline will survive to save our land.”
He then turned to his other son, and said “But you, you are no son of mine. You are nothing but swine before me.
You betrayed our land and people, and your bloodline will be forever cursed. It is your descendent who will take up arms against your brother’s.”

The young man discovered a small group of others who still remembered as he remembered
They were as the others in their company, but when amongst themselves they knew better
They had to take care so as not to be wiped from existence as many others before them
God knew not of their growing strength

“The past is changeable, it can be molded as the potter’s clay” their god would say
“The people you remember of old, they are but a figment of your imagination”
“You say they exist? Treatment you shall receive, For no sane person believes that which is known to have never existed”
“Your memories are but imprints of what you believe was the past, they are unreliable, do not believe all that you think, but believe that which I think”

Yet the young man trusted his memories
He refused to believe God as a god, for he saw him as but a man
In secret he would meet, with the few others who saw what he saw
Plans they would make, plans to bring on a new era, and bring about a true heaven on Earth

Just as boys age into men, so does the world continue to age
Seven years the world aged, and seven years it did decay
The people began rotting in their own lies
Undead bodies they had become, dead on the outside, yet still willing to walk on with smiles on their faces

The streets filled with foul smells, and the people gasped for air
Yet God said to them “do not fear, for I shall not allow your death to come”
The people, nine billion weak they were, then smiled and said “Thank you, our great Lord and God”
They had everlasting life, every last one of them, yet was it the life envisioned?

An elderly woman had joined the group of resistance
She was to be made their oracle, for she was blind in sight and insane in the mind, yet her third eye was strong
She spoke; “Time is now for a battle of forces yet unknown, for we have never been truly alone, yet broken we have become”
She turned to the young man; “A blade waits for you. You are to slay God on the final hour.”

The young man was cloaked in dark grey, and was led by the oracle to a cave In the highest mountains of Earth
In the cave was a light of pure black and a sword crafted many years ago, it was the blade of the king of old
The oracle became possessed by the spirit of one who is no more and spoke to him; “Your bloodline has been chosen to destroy that which has been created”
“It is you who will set the world free, as it once was. When the moon is full but shines no more, the final hour is upon us, and God must be slain by your hands, for you are The Hero of Light.”

And with that, the oracle took her last breath, her spirit had been replaced by that of the dead, but the dead do not belong in the bodies of the living
Her spirit was unable to return, she had become cursed, forever in limbo between life and death she would be
And so death was chosen, for she did not fear death, but welcomed it with open arms
The Hero of Light bowed to her, and marked a stone in her honor

When night came and covered all the land in it’s blanket of darkness, The Hero of Light looked to the moon
It was full, yet it was grey and sick, no light shone down upon the Earth
All light was provided by the stars, one star which was brighter than ever, the comet of the last shred of hope that remained with the wise
The Hero of Light knew what he was to do. He gathered his sword and rode upon a mighty horse, following the comet

The comet led him over the hills, until it crashed to the ground in a valley, and fire lit up the sky with red light
In the valley all the great armies of the world had prepared for battle, for his group was not the only with the goal of destroying God
He held high his sword and a beam of light from the fire reflected and pointed at a person below
The person was taller than all others around, and he shone with a great radiance and beauty unmatched by anything he had ever seen

Was one of such beauty and elegance truly the one he was to destroy?
The Hero of Light knew he should not be fooled by such deception
He rode down the hill as fast as his horse could gallop, his sword held at his side
God’s army fell down at the sight of the sword, they became still and unable to move

God faced him, a crooked smile on his face
For a long moment they stared at each other, then God spoke; “Surely you will reconsider what you are about to do
I am filled with love for all my people. If you give me your sword, I will show my mercy upon you”
The Hero was unmoved. He said back to God “I am the descendent of the King of Old, I am here to return the old kingdom’s former glory. You stand in my way”

“And just which of his sons do you believe yourself to be descended from?” God asked The Hero
“The son of loyalty, the one who is to now destroy the son of betrayal.” The Hero responded
“But no, my child, you have it all backwards” God laughed an evil laugh that caused even the trees to tremble
“I am the one who is to return the former glory to our land, it is you who stands in MY way.”

God raised high his own sword, and in a flash of light he stabbed the hero, aiming for his heart but missing and hitting his stomach, causing his red blood to spill onto the ground
As his blood touched the ground, the willows did weep, and the yews bled with him
But just as fast, the Hero raised his sword as well, stabbing God and causing his near instant death
An evil howl came from his mouth as he died, and the ground did shake

His body rapidly decayed, and two thirds of the world’s population decayed with him, they would be no more, as they had no place in Heaven
But the third who were to survive, the spell was broken for them, their sheep skin was shed
They would now live in harmony with the Earth
One thousand years it would take to create a Heaven on Earth, the people would be without sickness or death

But for our hero, this would not come to pass, for he too soon died from his mortal wound
The world ceased to exist for him, but he was left with one thought:
He knew his task was complete. It did not matter which son he was descended from, or if the legend of old was even true at all
He had succeeded in bringing about a heaven on earth, even if he would not be allowed to experience it himself.