The Fool stood in the tilled earth among the body parts that were being sowed by the Nameless One. He looked out in the distance and saw a stone church sitting at the edge of the field. The Fool decided to make his way over there.
The soil was deep and his feet sunk into the ground and his feet would feel like they were being sucked into the earth. The top of the ground was warmed by the sun, but as soon as his feet broke the surface, the soil became cold and moist.
He also had to watch where he stepped for there were body parts and heads strewn all over the field. He would see eyeballs just barely sticking out of the ground along with fingertips, ends of noses, and hair. He Who Can’t Be Named just watched him traverse the field towards the church with little to no interest. The Fool couldn’t tell if there was any sentient being inside that skull. Was he animating himself, or was there a puppet master?
The church was a pile of stones and basic. There were a steeple and a bell tower. The Fool entered the front steps. The room was empty and on the other end of the small cathedral was a large stain glass window, which was the only light that was being let into the church. The Fool could see dust float in the rays of light.
A man was standing up before the window and started using a hammer and chisel to work on some designs on a column next to the altar. The repetitive taps of the hammer and chisel echoed throughout the small church.
The Fool approached the artisan. The man was focused on the task at hand. There were accented scrolls and leaves carved in the column. They were beautiful and well done. The Fool walked around the carved column and the man carving it to see the intricate shapes and designs. The Fool was impressed.
Very good work, the Fool said.
Thank you, the man said. There wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm in his response.
Do you not think you are doing a good job? The Fool asked.
It’s not that, the man responded, I don’t like doing this. I prefer to paint and do frescos, but I am an architect’s apprentice.
The Fool could see that the detail on the carvings was the work of a painter’s hand and not an architect’s.
Why not switch masters? The Fool asked
It isn’t my decision, it is the decision of my father. He wants me to be an architect and not a painter since it pays better.
If you master painting, the Fool responded, then you would be paid enough.
The man chuckled at that.
If only it was that easy, the man said, one can’t just do whatever one wants whenever one wants.
Why not? The Fool asked.
The man didn’t respond to that but the Fool could see that there was a lot of thought going on in that young head of his. The Fool looked out and saw the Nameless One reaping souls across the field. Funerals were coming and going.
What is this place? The Fool asked.
This is the temple of Death, the man responded, this is a place to worship death and new beginnings. We must be okay with things ending and things beginning when we aren’t over the old things.
Haha, the Fool laughed and then said, this exactly the lesson you need. Kill the architect’s dream and begin your own dreams of paintings.
The Fool didn’t wait for the man’s response. He instead walked back out onto the killing field and back to the Nameless One that the temple worshipped.