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NO CHAPTER TOMMOROW BECOZ ITS 2IN 1 CHAPTER
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[Point of View ]
I still remember…
When I was a child.
Small. Young. Just a boy.
I was taken away from my mother at an early age. And even back then… I was taller than everyone. Like a giant.
People called me that too—
"A kind of giant."
I don't know why, but I had strength far greater than anyone around me. Even the elders, even the warriors… they couldn't match it.
Some people… they respected a man named Enoch—a great figure in the old stories. They worshipped him, honored him, followed his words.
And some people… they looked at me and said I had a connection to him. That he was my great-great-grandfather.
That's what my father always said.
He would place his hand on my shoulder and tell me,
"You are the blood of Enoch. His strength lives inside you."
Maybe it was true…
Maybe I did inherit that strength.
I still remember the whispers.
When I was just a small boy, sitting by the fire…
I heard my mother whisper to a man—maybe a priest, or maybe just a wise elder.
She said,
"This child… he's different. One day, people will either love him… or kill him."
I didn't understand it back then.
But now? Now I do.
When I was just ten—still a toddler, by the standards of our people who lived for centuries—
I lifted a stone so heavy that ten grown men couldn't move it.
But for me… it felt like nothing.
Everyone clapped. Everyone praised me.
They said,
"Look how strong he is! Amazing! He'll be a great warrior!"
But I didn't smile.
Not even once.
Because when I looked around…
I saw how the rich used their power to crush the weak.
How the strong bullied the helpless.
And something inside me—
It turned cold.
I looked at them from a distance…
And I felt disgust crawl through my chest.
That was the day…
That was the moment I made a promise to myself.
"I will never become like them."
"This strength… this gift I was born with…
I'll use it to protect those who can't protect themselves."
No matter what.
Even if the world hates me.
Even if they try to break me.
I'll never break my promise.
And I kept my promise to myself. I continued protecting the weak. Because power, if used without thought, without purpose, only leads to tyranny. That's not true strength.
To me, a powerful person is someone who helps others, who doesn't look down on them just because he's strong. Someone who gives people hope… someone they can trust and feel safe around. That's what I always believed. That's what I still believe.
That's why I use my strength to protect the ones who can't protect themselves.
In Mesopotamia—my homeland—whenever the rich or the prideful tried to take advantage of the poor, I stood up. At first, I tried talking to them calmly. I gave them a chance to do what's right. But if they didn't listen, I used my strength.
People started respecting me. The orphans smiled when they saw me. I loved them like they were my own. I never understood why anyone would want to hurt children—innocent souls. Some people even started calling me "Son of the Merciful."
Slavery still existed outside my land, but in Mesopotamia, while I was there, I never allowed it. People knew—if they tried, they'd face me. I'm not saying this out of pride. I'm just saying what's true. It's wrong to force your will on others. That's what I believe. That's what I live by.
I remember sitting alone, high up on the mountains, looking over a barren land. Time kept moving… and kindness faded from people's hearts. Only a few still held onto it. The teachings from my great-grandfather Enoch… slowly got twisted.
People started building idols of Enoch… claiming it was God's command. Priests gathered gold and treasures by lying to the people. They said, "These idols gave you rain," or "These statues gave you your children, so bow down and praise them!"
I couldn't accept that. I refused to bow to a rock that couldn't even move. How could I worship something man-made? Something that couldn't speak, hear, or even defend itself?
So I stopped going to those temples. I chose solitude instead. I would sit in the mountains, alone, looking up at the sky.
Sometimes, I thought maybe the sun was God. But then night came, and the moon took over. So maybe the moon was God? But then again, the sun returned. They kept replacing each other.
If they can't even control their own existence… how can they be gods?
That's when I realized… someone else must've created them. Someone greater.
Someone who made the sun, the moon, the sky, and the stars.
And so, I kept searching. I kept thinking. I didn't share these thoughts with anyone. I wasn't ready to speak about it yet. But deep inside… I knew.
There has to be a Creator. The true God. The one who made everything.
Even though I didn't bow down to idols … people still respected me. Not because of what I believed, but because of who I was. Some of the rich respected me out of fear… and some followed me because of the kindness I showed.
But… they didn't really understand me.
I didn't help people because I wanted praise. I did it because… it's the right thing to do. And I believe everyone should live like that.
As time went by, I turned 150.
I often found myself staring at the sky… thinking about my life. Thinking about how far I had come.
I had married a wonderful woman—Amzura. She was kind, humble, and known for her charity. She doubted the idols too… just like me. Maybe that's what pulled me towards her.
We lived a peaceful life.
I used to help her with cooking sometimes. I never forced her to do anything she didn't want. Every time, I asked her—"Are you okay?" or "Do you want help?" Because to me, she was never beneath me.
She was my equal.
If I'm the right hand, she's the left.
Two halves. One heart.
As years passed, we had four beautiful children—Sam, Ham, Japheth, and Canaan.
I taught them everything I believed in—kindness, truth, and the strength to protect others.
I told them, "Always speak the truth… even when it scares you. But never tell a lie. Not for anyone."
Still… I never told them about my doubts about the idols.
But… I guess they could tell. I never bowed to those lifeless stones. Never once.
By the time I turned 300… people started calling me the strongest man alive.
My name had spread across all of Mesopotamia… and even lands beyond it.
I still remember… my children used to tell me with those bright eyes and excited voices…
"Father! People say you're the strongest man alive!"
And I would just smile quietly.
I remember once, I heard some people whispering behind my back.
"Have you ever heard of Noah? The mountain of flesh," they called me.
"They say he once lifted a giant tree that had fallen after a storm… it was bigger than any house. And he saved a whole family that was trapped underneath."
Another one added,
"During the flood, he swam against violent waves… holding a child in one arm, and pulling a whole raft with the other hand!"
My children—especially little Canaan—would repeat these stories to me with so much pride.
But I'd just sigh.
Yes… I did save them.
Why wouldn't I?
I saw people dying. People crying for help.
And I couldn't just stand there.
Because life… life is fragile.
Once someone dies… they don't come back.
And yet… people just watched.
They sat there and said, "It's the will of the gods."
They blamed the idols they made—statues of Enoch, Adam, and Suraman.
They called them "wise gods." They bowed to them.
But those statues couldn't even move.
They couldn't lift a finger to protect the people who worshipped them.
Still… I didn't say anything.
I just sighed.
Even when I overheard people talking…
"That man is dangerous," they whispered.
"He doesn't believe in our gods."
Yeah… I heard them.
And all I could do… was sigh again.
Because that's just how humans are. Complicated.
As time passed…
I kept looking at the sky, day after day, As … I reached the age of 450.
My strength? Still unmatched.
People still call me "Noah, the Mountain."
My name spread all across the land.
I had everything—
A loving family.
Respect from people.
Strength beyond normal men.
But even with all that…
Something inside me stayed silent.
A question I could never ignore:
"Who is the One True God?"
As the Man Stoodup .....and think
now… I'm 500 years old.
Still standing. Still asking.
My sons—Sam, Ham, and Japheth—they've grown into fine men.
They carry my blood… and even a part of my strength.
But Canaan… my youngest…
He changed.
He started to admire the festivals of corrupt men.
He laughed at my silence.
He started mocking me softly during temple visits…
And I noticed.
He hides small idols and charms under his clothes.
Thinks I don't see it.
But I do.
I stay quiet…
Because I want to see what he truly believes.
Yes, it hurts.
But in the end, it's his choice.
It's his free will.
That evening, I walked back home.
My home… it's no palace.It's a simple place, carved out from a mountain.
A large stone hut I built with my own hands. As I stepped in, I was still thinking about Canaan…
Still wondering if I had failed him somehow and I looked up at the sky again… That same thought returned:
"Who is the true God?"
My wife… She saw it in my eyes.
She always did.
The pain.
The questions.
The quiet tears I let fall in the dark.
She never said anything.
But I know…
She's seen it all.
"Honey," Amzura said softly, placing her hand gently on my shoulder.
"What are you thinking about? You look… hurt."
I sighed and looked at her.
"It's Canaan ," I said quietly.
"Our son… he's changing."
Her eyes narrowed in concern.
I continued, my voice low, trying to hide the pain.
"He's drawn to the corrupt. The festivals, the false praise…
He mocks me now—quietly, yes—but I see it.
In the temple, he hides small idol charms under his clothes."
I clenched my fist.
"I know I shouldn't force my beliefs on him. He has free will.
But still… it hurts, Amzura. He's my son."
I looked up at the sky.
"I'm not a fool. I know how the world works.
But these… things people call gods, these idols…"
I pointed toward the village temple in the distance.
"They've done nothing for 500 years. Not even once.
They just sit there. Stones. Statues. Nothing more."
Amzura's grip on my shoulder tightened.
She knew I wasn't angry… I was just tired.
Tired of holding it all in.
The night started to fall.
My other sons were still outside, doing their usual work.
I looked at her again… my wife, my partner.
And then I whispered something I had never said aloud before.
"Oh Creator…
Whoever you are…
Wherever you are…
I know you're real. I know you're one.
But why do you stay silent?"
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.
"Please… just clear my thoughts."
And in that moment… For the first time in 500 years…
It happened. A soft hum broke the silence It wasn't wind. It wasn't a dream.
It was a voice.
Inside our home. Inside my heart.
"Oh Noah… He has chosen you… as a messenger… to your people."
I turned around—
Amzura's eyes also were wide with shock.
And then we saw it.
A glowing light filled the room.
A shining beam from the sky…
And within that light—wings.
Wings that stretched like they belonged to the heavens.
But before we could say a word—
The light began to fade.