"Cain spoke to Abel his brother. And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him."
"The punching continued eternally. He could hear his brother panting with the quick explosive breath of a sledgehammer man, and in the sick starlit dark he could see his brother through the tear-watered blood that flowed from his eyes. He saw the innocent, noncommittal eyes, the small smile on wet lips. And as he saw these things--a flash of light and darkness."
"The footsteps came close, slowed, moved on a little, came back. From his hiding place Adam could see only a darkness in the dark. And then a sulphur match was struck and burned a tiny blue until the wood caught, lighting his brother's face grotesquely from below. Charles raised the match and peered around, and Adam could see the hatchet in his right hand."
I do not dare say that Steinbeck's prose is some type of explicit exposition of biblical text. However, I do think that his vivid imagery and ability to capture such intensity has pierced my otherwise bland view of Adam's murder. It pronounces Cain's sin and makes my insides wrench when I think of how indifferently he denies his own blood slain.
I only fear that people like Cain, like Charles, like myself do exist. Murderous and hateful. Oh how I wish to slay every evil, hateful, murderous desire in my heart against my fellow man. Whether it be on the road in a commitment to rage, on a football field where prides collide and emotions roar, in the bedroom where fortified hurts protected for years come ripping through walls willing and able to hurt anyone with ears. Lord, keep me from reaching this hatchet of hate.
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