Reads: 283  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A reunion of a different proportion. History, news and science.tell of a future retold through the reunions of giants.

Submitted: June 19, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 30, 2019



Written by


The old gods are beginning to stir after thousands of years in slumber. Up from the south smells and echo of new things to come give hope of a break in the monotony that has chilled their bones for so very long, the clan is ready to be born again into the holiday and new year.

Most of the immediate clan of titans live in close proximity to one another and lead rather mundane lives tending to their garden and flock. Socially the best they can muster with each other is small talk about nothing in mere robotic responses, gods of this caliber rarely pay attention to anything other than their own interests, especially when things are slow. They talk at one another if necessary and don’t even wait for a response, Its been safe for a long time, so nobody cares about what anyone has to say. After countless conversations the gods feel each others frequency to be bland and predictable, long gone are the days when they had something interesting to say and random battles shatter the sky leaving remnants of the fallen to reinforce the outer walls.

The outer walls just beyond the clans branches is the barrier between the badlands of chaos and the clans hearth. Indeed it is cold and inhospitable out along the rim, one receives more heat from their own beating heart than from the central fire, never the less one would never think it a bitter place by looking upon the calm face of the god that rules this border post.

The god a dark gray with big copper eyes, he loves his temple in the quiet twilight far from the hearth glare. Another might be driven mad by the desolation and loneliness, if that were not bad enough, calamity may strike with no warning, so it takes a special god to walk that lonely line of introspective thought while strolling through a mine field.

Occasionally he will stare out into the southern sea when tending his meager garden and wonder what exciting adventures his brother the wanderer might be experiencing at that very moment. He laughs to himself lost in thought, it seems like only yesterday when those battles spun wildly and we were all so very young.

Within the white halls of his subterranean palace lay vast collections of many sorts displayed in recesses cut into the solid mat white stone and dedicated rooms. He is currently within the minerals and crystal hall, every available recess hold hues and refraction’s. The god sits quietly on a simple three legged iron stool in front of a heavy rough iron table with the top surface polished into a mirror with several jewels battling for dominance, he currently looks into a Purple luminescent crystal from his top prize collection, inspecting details of the molecular structures for the flow and meaning. Asking himself, what is the story this mineral can tell? A passion of his as long as he can remember and always on the lookout for a new specimen.

A vibration shocks his chamber and causes some dust and a soft tinkling as crystal tap one another, he hears something farther down the hall shift position.

A storm up from southern waters is crashing upon the barrier. So he carefully puts the crystal he was inspecting into a soft cloth and with a few rubs inspects, and carefully places it into its gap along the white wall.

In a few moments he emerges from a natural cave, not an elaborate palace gate. With stinging eyes he faces into the sharp storm, gathers his staff of many bends and slowly walks up outlook hill, being careful not to slip.

Occasionally he stops and inspects the integrity of the wall, notices the stone clings to the wall very loosely, once the wall was firm with few gaps, the barrier was bright and luminous with color streaking across the surface, however for some time the bubble wall grows thin, one can hardly even see the glow of the containing energy and no color streaks at all.

When he reaches the hilltop a soft luminescence settles upon him, he looks up to see a silvery branch hang down from up high. He follows the branch with his eyes, then turn to look back toward the distant hearth to behold the full wonder of the clans Tree.

Out at the far reaches one can just about encompass the entirety of it that keeps out the waters of chaos. The trunk near the hearth is so bright it hurts the eyes blotting out the surrounding forest beyond. The hearth rests upon its divot and sprouts a silvery spectrum, flowing up is a thick iridescent trunk leading to a grand umbrella of intricacies, and fractal branch until they reach delicate wisps of young leaves and silvery buds that hang low, the branch continues on so fine as to be just a glow.

The canopy encompass all within its protection and as above is as it is below, the roots sweep down from the source and out to mirror the canopy as a vast inverted dome of bright roots sweep up toward the branches and just as the branches above, the roots narrow so fine as to become the misty glow and meet upon the plane.

He turns away from the glare, back to face the dark storm and once again notices how thin the glow is on the wall. With one swift movement he sits upon a crook in the staff wraps his arm around and steps up into another nook, he rocks over and tucks in the supporting foot next to the staff, weight now firmly balancing upon the staff, leaning in just a little into the onslaught to withstand sheets of harsh weather.

His clan always jokes that he looks like some bent legged bird perching on a river bank.
The god begins to resonate, squinting into the freezing rain to pull out images from the flashes behind closed curtains, with these abstract images he draws inspiration.

He is well suited to being frozen, copper eyes reading the sign perched on the river bank under the tree. As the storm continues to roar, thoughts dance with his imagination and something catches his attention, he narrows his gaze to sense the mist around him, and still closer to the particles acting so curiously with one another, trying to understand the meaning of the oddity when his vision starts wavering in density and shapes bend all around him, the motion and pressure makes him feel dizzy.

Three arrows in a tight group flash by the gods head catching him off guard stumbling backward to recover with a roll into a crouch, he holds his staff ready. “Show yourself!” he yells into the storm, a shape of something looms, blacker than the rest pushing slowly forward as the murk slides around the form but the god cant quite define what this is, he does wonder if it could be that sheep blacker than he? Crouched motionless he readies for battle not knowing if those arrows were intended for him and waits motionless for a sign.

Here on the fringe, Pluto is somewhere between grace land and bad land, many dangerous long estranged cousin of chaos mutated through war and demon stalk within and beyond the great barrier, always menacing the peace.

The staff of many bends might look odd but does work well as a staff and has many uses, or a fine weapon especially in the hands of a god, material its made from is of celestial nature and will not shatter.

Creeping toward him, through the cold snakes something unseen, snaps into his cheeks and the tip of his icy nose, “Heat!” he takes a step forward and sweeps his staff high above his head in anticipation to strike.

His senses are alive knowing that something with heat, that emerges from the icy waters of chaos must be very powerful. He smells the soup all around him with a hard sniff and all he smells is burning wet heat, second long slow draw catches a whiff of a familiar brimstone cologne.

He erupts with veins bulging in his forehead with a more powerful shout to overwhelm the storm “You old fool!” just then the shock wave from his brother’s wake and laugh strike “BOOM!” upon his skin, the defender turns back toward the clan hearth and calls out, “Our Brother Nibiru is here!”

Though Pluto is far away and one of the lessor gods in stature, never the less he is still a god and his call has great resonance, so soon he felt his clan under the tree cheering in response.

Nibiru wears black as black as pitch and can not be seen by the naked eye, cloaked in iron dust makes invisible his countenance a disguise, his smoldering heart underneath is known as a red dwarf, could it be that he is lacking the chemistry required in the mix to fully sustain the burn or possibly could it be his periodic deep plunges into the waters of chaos might eventually cut back his fury, but not fully douse his reactive spirit, ready to ignite.

The clans home is a tree of life, a self winding organic clock of immense architectural proportion. This clan of gods require for their gardens; Sun for day, moon a month with tide to stir, Star year is the harvest calendar and plenty of fresh uncomplicated water filtered through good clean vibration is the blood of a healthy tree that can usher in opportunity for curiosity.

Raw water from the waters of chaos are simply too infused with toxic chaotic memory and can not be used to sustain healthy sane life.

The clan of gods are necessary for the clock to function, not just tending their flock and garden but also as they oscillate, as crystal in this grand clock, their roll is to shape the source of frequency from the hearth and reinforce the structure of their part of the tree, they naturally help purify the waters with their frequency and vibrations if healthy. Gods help define the octave rings they themselves ride, these rings thicken the trunk that supports and guides the spread of a larger canopy to encompass more capable nurseries.

These clean concentric circles the gods march in order to reinforce the tree are quite unnatural a movement with little variation, it wears upon titans and they grow hot and tired, eventually they dim in charge, causing them to eventually fade if they are not revived.

Nibiru is different from the rest, he is the pendulum, his path is much more invigorating than the others because it must be.
Within the cold waters of chaos, Nibiru is in constant battle against dark forces trying to stop him with every formation and strategy.

As Nibiru plows though the armies with his shiny alloy armor, he grind his shield across wicked demon and giant alike as they rage war.

These creatures have been driven mad long ago within the waters of chaos, locked in deep chambers of darkness so deep that light can not penetrate, they will do anything to taste warm clean blood and though light does not penetrate, there are an irregular painful bursts of light derived from the sparks and explosive conflict of constant war of the irrational, insane and toxic.

The Dark Army has highly charged weapons that strike and thump at Nibiru and his armor of divine properties, he can be overwhelmed, wounded and he will fail.

Relentless are the clawed demons that ride all sort of beast, giants swing their heavy clubs that crash with a rattle, serpents swallow him but choke as he tear through, assassins daggers cut poison wounds between heavy plate but in time he sweats out the fever, arrows plunge deep and lance shatter, hammers on chain or bolts of electricity and plasma burns, weapons of war consisting of all sorts of material probing for any weakness, Iron, nickle, platinum, gold, cobalt, crystal and zinc and all combinations of matter or metal, whatever it takes to defeat this fearless warrior.

The eons of war can be wearing, slowly Nibiru continues pushing through, several times he was nearly stopped, however he would again start to build a charge gathering just a little magnetism than he would be thumped hard or blasted by some demon fire to be left weak only to have to start again, however eventually he avoids critical strikes and works through the pain growing reputation and overcoming all challengers.

Panic falls upon the dark army as Nibiru once hunted becomes the hunter of any who stand in his way. He continues to grow more powerful as bits of war dust and ore infuse, completely covering all of his once shiny armor black, now Nibiru becomes the shadow of destruction.

A giant of immense proportion sees Nibiru preoccupied, so he brings his club of iron down to strike the shadow, and with a puff, the giants club entombs itself into the pile of magnetized armor beneath the cloak, and to the dismay of the giant his weapon and hand slip into the magnetic sand of Nibiru, the club is in turn ripped from the giant along with his arm.

Nibiru calls out another, “Serpent of many heads meet my hammer!” the heads strike and the tails whip with great ferocity, never the less Nibiru counters every move, dives through loops with dark stealth and swiftness, finds his opportunity and sends the war hammer through the beast’s chest emerging through the spin, scattering the creature into pieces and as the heads spin screeching away, a segment of its spine still lay as a sash infused across Nibiru’s chest as yet another spoil of war.

Nibiru now rejuvenated races without hesitation to save his clan from fading away. He’s not the biggest but defiantly well built, only being three times larger than his little sister Blue, though ten times heavier, solid magnetic super alloy and a true celestial anvil.

Pluto watches Nibiru breach the barrier toward the wall and laugh, his brother has no manners what so ever and just slams the outer gate bashing a hole right through.

He obviously had time to pick up some gifts as he tows them through. In moments Nibiru greets his brother with a hug, Pluto remarks “Trying to be popular I see, you have enough gifts for all to adore, those newly adopted and little Blue’s mascot “moon” Nibiru states proud “I have enough magic dust and tasty snacks for all this holiday to carry them through the new year! Even if the adopted observers want to stay this time, and of course enough for Blue’s little pet, “Moon.”

Pluto cant help but admire Nibiru’s radiance, he has long forgotten what its like to stand before a god fully charged, “So how is the bird with a bent leg?” something Nibiru always said to Pluto who appreciates his brothers sense of tradition.

They walk and talk about the far reaches, then Nibiru takes his brother by the shoulders and says “Pluto my brother, rejoice for the new year!” he sprinkles black iron crystals over his head, and spins his brother slightly around like he always does and states, “Good to see you Pluto, I gotta go!” Pluto beams “Always brother!” and Nibiru continues on his way. Pluto hums a tune familiar to them both when they were very young, a song about “when the clock winds down”, and Nibiru begins whistling the part of the tune starting with “and the pendulum comes around…” and continues whistling as he heads on toward the hearth as steam and rainbow fog begins to slowly rise from Nibiru’s back and his dirty cloak drags a mark across the sky.

Pluto can not leave his post and so watches his foggy brother move away whistling. He looks down and sees the tiny magnetic black iron crystals Nibiru tossed over his head, now melt red into the ice, and the most beautiful multi hued fog slowly settles.

He spots near his foot, the finest specimen of dark luminous purple crystal he has ever seen, great for the collection. Smiles and swiftly picks it up and looks close, tests the weight in his hand, looks through the colorful fog toward the hole Nibiru just bashed in the gate and with a windup, slings the prize jewel fastball punching through the thickening fog and out the gap in a flash. For a few seconds he gazes, just feeling a little buzzed, “I have plenty of time to find more.” stands up straight and tall, with a flick of the wrist spins the staff of many bends up draping over his shoulders. Sharply turns and begins to lightly stride back down the hill with a spring in his step, not even looking as he navigates the slippery ground well lit by his radiance.

Nibiru when in the cold waters of chaos looks inert, just blackness, but upon entering the clans territory closer to the hearth his cloak that allows his stealth within chaos, in warmer waters release thick spreading contrail. The iron is infused with nickle, copper and cobalt as well as many other elements, when his cloak gets warm the reactive elements like the cobalt will bellow clouds of arsenic and many other gasses from other trace elements create a beautiful multi colored contrail that looks like an iridescent crows feather being drawn in his wake.

The next three brothers see Nibiru, Neptune’s broad chest heaves and calls out a harmonic shift of great power, Nibiru pushes forward, Uranus and Saturn are squeezed by their detracting fields and expectations, they sound off to the rest of the clan, “He’s here!”

Saturn then adjusts his crowns jewels for better reception and Jupiter tweaks his straps with bright eyed respect for the wanderer gods return. They all embrace in conversation and ribbing as Nibiru’s magnetic personality and wake upon the still waters are a kinetic joy that reset the gods strength and rejuvenate their resonance as he drags his polarity upon them they feel invigorated once again.

Jupiter sings using his crown as the great resonator for all to hear “Hail to the coming of Nibiru for the gathering! Our maverick in the night, fighting the sea monsters within the waters of chaos, cloaked invisible but for his smolder, Nibiru our pendulum is like no other!”

Nibiru’s path ranges far and wide, however when he can he likes to drop by close and see everyone but especially his favorite, little sister Blue, who loves her big brother Nibiru so very much.

“Rejoice the home coming is near!” calls Mars, Little Blue trembles and quakes in excitement, he’s getting near she can feel it, what stories might he tell, and she hopes he dances too close to the fire again so they all can laugh.

Nibiru drags hugs and toss gifts to all the clan as he sprinkles the festive dust, singing random phases like “Come on down to the fire… and get your pink on!” “Stories for the bold, stories for the old, all I ask is a little warmth by your fire!” several follow with “Then dance for us to earn your stay!”

With this request to dance he raises his arms high, sweeps around spinning scattering a thick flower of dust and rainbow hues of holiday cheer as he spins.

He spots his little sister Blue, takes her by the hands and they dance as tiny black crystals melt upon her, changing his sisters blue and green a beautiful festive crimson of iron wash and rainbow haze to symbolize the blood we all share and the rebirth into the new year.

Blue blushes as Nibiru spins away and dances toward the fire laughing and telling stories as he goes. Drinking too much and getting too close to the flame, and yes, yet again to the sheer joy of little Blue, Nibiru’s cloak of dust ignite a Phoenix, marking this as the most auspicious of occasions.

Nibiru loves the heat that envelops him, laughs, spins on his heels and runs as the fire starts to transform from a fluffy Phoenix into something else, feathers pull to points of scales the tips of his wings stretch from fluffy to sharp pulling the blossom tail into the long pointed spear, and the Dragon is born once again, the all gods lift their large goblets and cheer “To the age of Dragons!”

After the warm celebration and plenty of wine all the gods are both a little intoxicated and vitalized looking forward to the future instead of dwelling in the past. Jupiter and Saturn arm wrestle, trading wins while Venus acts impressed by the size of their biceps. Nibiru loves this time and would like to stay, but alas he must go, yet he still has one thing he has to do.

He lets out whoops and hollers, getting his heart going for his task at hand. Mercury sees his brother and knows he must go, calls a farewell, “Dragon under the tree, we know you must go but come back when you have cooled and warm your self by the fire, dance, drink, tell us stories of your travels and wined up our spirits once again!” the rest of the gods cheer, not feeling at all passive anymore.

Nibiru looks over to little Blue to say goodbye one last time but hesitates with a smirk when he sees her completely coated with bright red blush. Mars calls out “Now you look better Blue!” and everyone including Nibiru laugh.

Nibiru blows off a little dust from her brow and winks to his little sister and says “Watch this kid.” He turns and runs gathering up speed, arms extended out as the cape of fire stretches into the long serpent with dagger wings and Nibiru with a cry casts himself off on another adventure but first around the heart real close to stoke the fire and pick up speed before the ride beyond the outer branches of the clan tree, to war and recover his expenditure again over time and explore the wilderness for yet more tales to tell his clan.

Little sister blue shifts her gaze and tilts her body to lay another way, drawn to watch Nibiru leave, already missing him and in anticipation of the next time, so she continues to enthusiastically wave goodbye, now she feels so incredible she wants to run.

Nibiru looks back just before reaching the edge of the bubble now shimmering with color, he lifts his hand high and with a flair, plunges into the deep waters of chaos.

The End


© Copyright 2020 M.J. Wallin. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

More Historical Fiction Short Stories