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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is not a story, but rather, a message.

Submitted: November 12, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 12, 2017





Soft waves caressing his feet, velvety breeze brushing his cheeks, amber sun soothing his body, head up, lips trembling, eyes filled with tears. Here he stands, looking at the cyan sky, wondering when it will happen. Softly moving his fingers, he held the breeze and stared at its wonderful colors. Tears broke free. He looked around and saw the palm trees swaying in accordance to nature, and bearing life. The hill at the far end, breathing, appreciating what is current, what is now. Then, with a sudden heartache, he remembered. He looked down and saw the message his tears made, “The end.” He snapped his eyes back up, night has fallen. No moon, no blue, only black… no, not black, dark. His heart started pulsating, yet when he looked down, the message was washed away, this calmed his heart.

Morning. He stands yet again, looking at the sky, tearing, anticipating. A bird caught his sight from afar the azure sky. With grace and finesse, it flies, filling him with smiles. Yet his happiness upturned, tears still rolled… The end, he recalled. He looked down again, yet, the message read “The end. Fly.” His eyes opened wide in fear, as the whole ground turned black, giving in to the darkness called shadow. He looked up, and screamed as the colossal claw of the titanic Roc curl around his fragile body, then everything happened! The wind destroyed his clothes, the sun turned red, burning the ground, the palm trees were stripped of their leaves, the hill erupted, the wind became black, and finally, he was taken to the crimson clouds. Big, dark, bloody clouds encircled the mammoth hurricane. Thunder! Lightning! And hail! He looked in horror as the sounds of the black screams with hellish aura filled his ears and burned his eardrums.

Flying, he began feeling the inevitable weakness, and gave in to his insanity. Here it happened, the green laughs stabbed his brain, the whole world turned red rage, with manic clouds encircling beings, beings with wings, demonic, beastly, beings. His eyes fluttered, his pupils went up, as he saw the message scribed by the godly void, “You are the cause!” The demons started killing each other, and his head shook in fear as he saw innocent animals dying, green grasses burning with black flame, smoke emanating from the nostrils of chaos-bred contraptions, and angels descending, falling. Angels with blinding white wings, falling, screaming. Their screams were sharp, deafening, bright, and scarred his red ears. The red world turned darker as the fires shot from the contraptions upwards, destroying clouds, turning them into ash, and young angels with them. Other angels started flying away from the clouds in horror, filling their pure faces with fluorescent tears, and meeting their fate with the blade of the demons. Suddenly he felt it… he knew… he realized… war. Suddenly the Roc shot upwards, blazing into the hellish sky, until he glanced at the next message, “STOP!” He could not comprehend. Until the sudden woosh of the air stopped the Roc, and he was sent flying into the air, the bottomless, pitch black air. His end is nigh.

Eyes closed, he waited for the drop, yet it did not happen. He opened them and he could not see anything. He thought he turned blind; however, he realized he was wrong when a mahogany door materialized out of the now dark void. As he was floating towards it, he felt his chest ache, and his heart pulsate. With every second, he sweated, and extended his hand towards the charred handle. He finally clasped it, and turned it. Immediately, chaos of the most horrific aura swooshed out of the door and he was sent flying with the torturous gale. Pains came from every part of his body as the gale grazed him with its sharp waves. Then he saw light emanating from the heavens! He looked up and saw what he thought was god. However, it was a phoenix! With a sudden flash, he realized that the Roc, which started all of this, transformed to the phoenix. Dark, golden, filled with fire, gigantic in size, graceful in posture, the phoenix destroyed everything in its way with its divine wings. However, it did not destroy him, it encapsulated him in the fury of its infernal wings. With him, the demonic beings surrounded him in a perfect circle, all looking at him with smoky, blood-red eyes. He looked around, and saw his death. Yet the demons did not do anything. They just floated. Finally, with a terrifying, shrill scream, one of the demons cried, “we are the cause!” And they all stabbed themselves. Black blood rushed out of their skinny, bony bodies. He screamed and his pulse fluttered vigorously. He looked up, and saw the phoenix looking at him with fiery eyes. When he looked down, he screamed in horrific agony as serpents encircled his body, writhing and slithering up his young, vulnerable body. And, in a split second, the phoenix morphed into a demonic serpent and encircled him. Every scale filled with messages “Oppression,” “injustice,” “suicide,” and then he saw what made perfect sense, “nature.” His body gave in, and he screamed at the top of his lungs, a scream like no other, and then, like a deactivated machine, collapsed to the ground, crying with black tears.

He opened his eyes, and found himself standing again. The same yellow sun found and warmed his cold, weak body. The same breeze soothed his mind. The same sky, same hill, and same palm trees. He breathed a sigh of relief, yet he was completely surprised, since he felt he deserved death after what he saw. He looked down for one last time, and saw the last message “Change.” This was not a statement; this was an order… for green.

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