Stillborn World: Innocent Sin

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The observer wanders about a destroyed Earth, red moonlight covering all it sees. A peculiar group of children wander into a park, and begin a strange ritual.

Submitted: August 13, 2019

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Submitted: August 13, 2019



I appear to them as nothing more than a large alien-like creature. I understand this now, but still, I must move. I have to witness the life of the remaining humans. Is that really why I exist? Only the stars will know. After composing myself and getting rid of the sadness caused by the piano, I walked for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually I stumbled upon a small park. This place was for children to play. Yes, I feel this is what it was for. Such a simplistic design, but then again, children are innocent and simple in what they desire. They care not for power, sadness or hate. They only carry joy within them, or so I feel.

I sat down on the only bench that was still intact. The trees were unusually tall, and covered the view of the surroundings and the view up to the sky. A small opening is all I could see. It got darker, and only red moonlight remained. The darkness was almost soothing, as the emptiness gave me a chance to recollect my thoughts. But the time for myself was interrupted by a sudden burst of flames. A small bonfire was set alight by a small, mysterious figure. It ran somewhere else, but it did not see me. I was more or less still covered by darkness despite the fire and the moonlight. More small figures moved all around me, all traversing the darkness of the park. Away from chaos, away from the mass destruction caused by the end of the world.

I sat on that bench, patiently waiting for the small figures to show themselves. After a rather brief wait, they appeared. To my surprise, they were children! Cloaked children wearing shamanic, ritualistic masks and tiny robes. There were many, many children that emerged from that darkness. A larger group of children focused on dragging many large, dark bags of some kind. They kept bringing them, lining these strange bags horizontally on the ground. Not quite understanding what they were doing, I walked up to them slightly, still without being seen. The children would likely scream in terror if they did.

The bonfire was lit inside a sandbox. The bags were then placed around the sandbox in a circular pattern. The rest of the children held hands and formed an outer circle, encasing the circle of black bags. One of the children opened the bags one by one. They were the dead bodies of different adults. I was curious, but also horrified. Why would children collect dead bodies? I quietly observed to see what would happen next. A little girl wearing slightly more simplistic clothing, but still shaman-like in nature, sat down in front of the bonfire. The child that opened the body bags joined the outer circle, as every other child had done before.

The little girl was sitting with her legs crossed, and began to do strange hand motions. I saw children not on the outer circle. They were holding something, but I could not see what. After a few moments, the girl began to... sing. The red moonlight turned pale blue, but only for the park. I looked at the sky through the small opening the trees allowed, and confirmed as much.The pale blue look was spectral, eerily comforting. She was singing in a language of the occult, or so I felt.

“Sufrira, o mi fithra sufrira...”

Her small voice turned powerful, and beautiful. It felt that, despite my strange origins as a creature that is not of this world, I was experiencing something that was even further beyond from my own odd existence. The gentle song continued, it sounded like something to soothe a child’s soul. A... nursery rhyme, they called it. It was reminiscent of that. It cradled the soul of those listening, and indeed, I felt my soul at peace and almost escaping my body. I would later find out why.

“Vithlah sinsi, vithla reschuria”
“Triptixena, o fithras nolfas sufrira xin suothrosos”
“O... ghystrathnia sonth myuonschias”
“Suothrosos juhntia susdoros”
“Shi suothrosos virnathela osis froh”

“Irth nolfas filiathy truvest afain”

The verses repeated once more. It was then that in that pale blue light, I saw the children not in the outer circle were playing instruments. They did not look like normal instruments, but something created for this ritual. But my trance was interrupted by a rather saddening thing.

The blue spirits of those dead adults in the bags soon appeared. They failed, over and over, to get back into their bodies. I then realized what this was. A ritual to revive their dead guardians. Their loved ones, and even those that were not family. The children had taken it upon themselves to perform an occult ritual in order to bring back those that were taken from them. Small in body, but strong in resolve. The gentle song continued.

After the spirits failed to enter the bodies, they simply vanished, but the little shamanic girl continued to sing. The children holding hands were being accompanied by the spirits of other children that were gone, or so I suspected. But more than the attempted revival of their loved ones, the second phase of the ritual was revealed. Those were not spirits of other children.

The circle of children holding hands joined in the singing, gently repeating the words over and over. A circle of blue light engulfed the shaman girl. She repeated the entire song once more, all by herself without any other children playing the instruments. They had all vanished in that pale light, leaving behind nothing but a book. It was as if they were never there to begin with. I approached the book, and picked it up. The shaman girl used this for her song. Many strange symbols and ritual procedures were within it. A bookmark revealed what the song meant. As I read it, my heart sank into an even deeper sorrow than ever before. Why must they suffer so? I realized that this cataclysm did not only end the physical aspects of the world, but also walls in the fabric of reality that held certain power hidden away. These brave little ones went so far for those they loved, they mastered and consulted with occult forces. I can only hope they found some form of peace.

Suffer, oh my guardians suffer

Life without you, life revives you

Sadness, oh guardians, we suffer without you

Oh... how we miss you so

We will join you

If you cannot come back to us

So we can feel happiness again

© Copyright 2019 Dave Davidson. All rights reserved.

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