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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
our protagonist ventures into the unknown human world and is horrified by what he sees.

Submitted: February 02, 2017

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Submitted: February 02, 2017



He looked hungrily around with his crystalline eyes, glistening like a pair of ornately crafted rubies. There was nothing except the four towering, rusty walls surrounding him. His home was barren, completely void of sustenance. The gods had stopped pitying him long ago. The halcyon days of regular boons of fruits and vegetables were nothing but a fading memory. Had he angered them in some way? Had he failed to appease their many desires? Or did the gods simply decide to cut him off, leave him to his own devices, perhaps as a cruel joke? He did not know, nor cared. All that was on his mind was the struggle for survival, and the urge to find a new way to support his fragile life.


He decided it was time to leave. His pristine wings, laced with crystalline patterns woven together like an elaborate tapestry, beat with the clockwork rhythm of an assembly line. His many svelte legs gently lifted from the ground. He fluttered skywards, gracefully waltzing through the miniscule opening, like a thread through the eye of a needle.


A cool breeze welcomed him to the outer reaches. A glowing but fading sun confined in a glass cage, hoisted upwards by a pillar brought dim illumination to the world. One of the lesser deities, a servant perhaps, squatted against a swirling mural of vivid, neon glyphs which were barely legible. It wore a tainted white robe, stained with splotches of grease and perspiration. Grass sprouted from his skull and ribs, not with the emerald glow of life but with the darkness of ashes. In his jaws perched a stick with glowing embers, radiating with the suffocating stench of poison and not the fragrance of incense.


He had reached the temple of the gods. A prodigious banner bore the title of the cathedral, formed by neon, shining worms, twisting their bodies in grotesque disproportion to form cryptic hieroglyphs. The pearly white gates of the temple were held open by a stoical servant, patiently waiting. He entered.


Inside, he saw a vast biome of immeasurable expanse. It was the dining hall of the gods. It was now that he realized his home was minute, insignificant in the face of this continent of a chamber. He saw an endless sea of curious structures that he couldn’t quite identify. They resembled the mushrooms of his world, but each as enormous as the girth of an ancient oak. Each of these structures were trapped by a ring of the gods, an altar for them to devour the sacrifices given to them. He never knew there were so many of them. Maybe that was why they abandoned him, for his inability to acknowledge his religion as polytheistic.


As he soared across the cathedral, he was overwhelmed by the dissonant symphony of incantations, hymns and clattering. He heard the din of the gods bawling at each other in incoherent utterances and the clanging cacophony of their cold, silver instruments. In front of the gods were exotic beasts, the likes of which he had never seen in his short life. He alighted in front of one of the creatures. Her shell gleamed with a vivid shade of vermillion. To the sides of her abdomen were two oversized claws. They reached outwards, towards him. He wondered what that signified. Was she reaching out for help? That seemed unlikely. Like his own body, a thick layer of armour wrapped her in a protective embrace. How could she be in any danger? Nevertheless, he moved towards her to see how he could help.


Their eyes met, both large, red and beady. He stared at her while she gawked at him. He suddenly felt an unmistakable connection, a great empathy towards her, as if they had come from an identical ancestor, part of a vast, wide-branching family. Have we met before? Were we long lost relatives? Why do you look so similar to me? He wondered


He noticed that she was incredibly still, perhaps frozen in fear. What could possibly be endangering her? Even if there was indeed a malevolent evil, his benevolents gods would surely guard her.


He was quickly proved wrong.


A mighty palm descended and slammed onto her pincers. It seized her claws and it twisted, pulled, wrung them with force so brutal that her arms tore asunder, pulverized with a fragile crunch. Her armour, specialized to ward off attempts to devour her was nothing but a minor annoyance to the gods, fragments of it hurled across the altar. Her tail was ripped off from her dismembered body, clean. The gods examined their sacrifice, as the viscous, orange humours that once sustained her life dripped downwards to the altar. They continued their ritual, tearing and pulling at her legs, her pincers, her abdomen. It was an autopsy only to find themselves guilty of murder. They tore and tore and tore until there was nothing left of her, nothing but a shell that stoically kept its form, even when the muscles it swore to protect were all devoured. Not even the wisest being in the world could deduce that this shredded remains of his friend was once a vehicle for life.


He lurched backwards and dashed away in horror. He couldn’t bear himself to watch this barbaric ritual. How could the merciful and benevolent gods have done this? He felt as if an illusion that he had known and wholly believed in was suddenly shattered, the ugly truth rearing its face to him. He felt giddy, dazed and confused. He could no longer see the gods he once saw in these mammoth beings, but savages. No, that would be an understatement, he thought. They were demons. Demons that only lived to leech and exploit all that breathes and walks in their world, to assert utter dominance over all that shares their ecosystem.


He was no longer hungry. He felt something more noble, more righteous than the primal drive for survival. Not even the reassurance of eternal life could convince him to rely on these bloodthirsty creatures. Disgusted by the demons, he fluttered upwards, away from the corruption and filth that lied there, towards the bright sun that would mean freedom and liberation from these creatures.


He was burnt to a crisp by a light bulb.


His corpse dropped down on a bowl of soup. The patron it belonged to alerted a waiter to replace it. His corpse was thrown in the dumpster he once lived in.


© Copyright 2018 Rakes. All rights reserved.

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