Tales of the Apocalypse

Reads: 443  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Experience the end of the world from three different perspectives.

Submitted: August 08, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 08, 2016



Tales of the Apocalypse


Hell on Earth. Armageddon. The End Times. Call it whatever you want to call it; the skies are being torn apart, the oceans have turned to blood, and nightmares roam the Earth. Time is dead and meaning has no meaning. Existence is upside-down and chaos reigns supreme. Welcome to the Apocalypse.


So, Four Horsemen Walk Into A Bar


It wasn't always like this.


I remember when these four bikers - The Four Horsemen, they called themselves - strolled into my bar. I couldn't help but overhear them; they seemed to take up the whole room, despite being contained to a booth in the corner.


I remember them vividly: Mr Bellum - a redhead in a suit the colour of dried blood, Mr Gulam - a fat bastard barely contained by a black biker jacket, Mr Morbus - a poncey twat in a shiny white suit, and Rae - a hauntingly beautiful young woman in an elegant black dress.


The evening started going to Hell when Mr Gulam ordered as much food as he could, ate the tiniest bit of everything, and threw the rest in the bin. He didn't even offer to share it with his companions - not that they seemed interested in eating, mind. I could see everyone staring at the disgusting sight of Mr Gulam gorging himself. Yet somehow, watching that monument to obesity spoil so much food only to throw it away… it made be hungry; I think it made everyone hungry. And I think he knew that.


Mr Morbus was the loudest of the four as he walked around from table to table, asking people about their health. With a few disturbingly specific questions he convinced everyone that they had something wrong with them, and then assured them that some non-prescription drug would make them all feel better. He named a whole load of pharmaceuticals, with names like “Astarothe”, “Belzbang”, “Lucifax”, and “Abaddrine”. He even wrote them down for everyone to remember. Once he’d finished his rounds I heard him brag to the other three, about how he owned the company that made those drugs, and how they wouldn’t help at all - if anything they’d make those poor people feel worse. Listening to him made me feel sick.


As if that wasn’t bad enough, for the next ten minutes Mr Bellum was eyeing this bunch of young lads across the bar. I couldn’t figure out what that look on his face was. Curiosity? Contempt? Whatever it was, he decided to walk right up to them and speak to one of them. Just one - calmly, discreetly. After that we went and sat back down, now with a new look on his face: anticipation. When the first punch was thrown between those young lads I could have sworn I saw a satisfied smirk on Mr Bellum’s smarmy face. Made me want to sock him right in the jaw.


I escorted those rowdy lads outside - I won’t put up with bar brawls - and Rae followed them. First time She’d so much as looked up since She walked in. Ten minutes later She slipped back in, quiet as the shadow She looked like. She approached me, and stood there, staring. That’s when I realised how deathly thin She was; you could practically see Her skeleton. And Her eyes… I hadn’t seen them before now - they’d been hidden by her long black hair - such weary, sullen eyes. I got the impression that She was much older than She looked.

CALL AN AMBULANCE,” She said, with a voice like the wind in a graveyard.


The ambulance arrived too late, and the Horsemen left quietly - without paying. I chased after them, but by the time I ran outside they were already riding away. Right then I saw the skies darken, almost as if the night was keeping up with the Horsemen. I ran over to the cliff and saw that the ocean had turned blood red. I couldn't believe what was happening. I ran back inside and turned on the TV. No signal from any channel. The internet was down too. Pretty soon the power went out.


I don't know how long it's been. I don't know much longer I can take this. They're coming for me. I can hear them outside. I can't hide in here forever. If I stay I'm dead. If I run I'm dead. It doesn't matter what I do. Nothing matters any more.


Not now. Not in the End Times.


An Angel Calls


Three days ago these four strange bikers rode through town. As they left darkness fell, revealing a starry sky that looked like it was being torn apart. Monsters descended from fiery holes in the sky, the endless lightning turned everything it struck into dust, and people started going crazy. Hell, maybe I'm going crazy too. Maybe that's what this all is. Unless that's what they want me to think...


Who are they, you ask? I don't know. Some people are calling them demons, some are calling them aliens, and some wackjobs are even calling them angels. Whatever they are, they're terrifying. Ten feet tall, but slender, sleek, and dressed like Knights Templar or something. Their fingers are like swords, and they hide themselves beneath these golden faceplates attached to their freaky hoods - which also have these golden rings at the top, like a halo. Guess that's why people are calling them angels... But what they are isn't important. What's important is that an army of them marched into town after the bikers rode out.


Now we can't leave our homes because they are waiting. They've been abducting people. Don't know why, don't know how many, but I know not to go outside. Of course, they could always just destroy my house to make room for some crazy monument or weapon or shrine or whatever it is these things they're building are. That way I'll at least be dea- What was that!? I heard a noise at the door. What is that? Where's my sledgehamm- there it is... Okay, don't panic, don't... It's coming right at me! Oh God... Ohgodohgodohgodohgod... I think I just shat myself...


Running. Dead end. Screaming. Pain. A burning sensation in my left leg. Screaming. It's trying to grab me. A stabbing pain in my right shoulder. Eyes full of tears. Screaming. Trying to fight. Wildly flailing the sledgehammer. A lucky shot.


It's... On the floor. Did I win? Did I somehow manage to beat this monster? OHMYGODNOIT'SMOVING! It's... Reaching for its faceplate... Oh my god... What is this thing? It has no face! Just a head covered in eyes! Human eyes, goat eyes, cat eyes, squid eyes... I think I'm gonna be sick...


Wkhvh duh wkh hqg wlphv, pruwdo. Wkh ORUG dqg Klv Duplhv ri Oljkw vkdoo ydqtxlvk wkh Ghprq Krugh. Wkh vxq vkdoo qhyhu djdlq ulvh, dqg pdqnlqg vkdoo eh ghvwurbhg.”


What the fuck was that? Did that thing just... Speak? What the Hell did it say?! Oh crap, it's reaching for my leg! Just... DIE!


My god... Did I just kill that monster with a sledgehammer? Better make sure... STAY! DOWN! THIS! TIME! Okay... I think it's dead now. It's certainly not moving. And its eyes are mush. I think it's time to leave before more come... Wait, what's happening with the floor? The ground is shaking... I can hear fire... Wait... Ohmygodno... The floor is breaking apart... The walls are on fire... What is this? What's happening? Why? WHY? WHYYYYYY?!



Tim? It's me, Ka- no, it's Chardonnay now. My real name died along with everyone who ever knew it... It's been 23 days since Doomsday, not that days mean anything since the darkness fell. As far as I can tell everyone else is dead.


I left the hideout this morning for a supply run - food, medical supplies, that sort of stuff. The outside world looks like something straight out of a death metal album cover. I used to like those, before this happened. Remember when we used to go upstairs to my room and blare out Iron Maiden? Remember how pissed mom always got?


D'you remember, Tim?


Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the supply run. Well, it was pretty routine stuff, until I stole a motorcycle from the god of war. Pretty awesome, right? It was parked outside the old Church, along with three others. I remember some people tried using that as a Sanctuary... Thought it would protect them from the demons, I guess. Anyway, the bike… Oh Tim, you'd have loved it - it was the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes upon. The huge wheels, the spikes on the mudguards, the Roman helmet over the headlight, and that gorgeous red finish... Remember what I said about it being a death metal album cover about there? Well this is exactly the kind of bike that you'd be riding on one of those. Remember how we used to steal mom's Harley when she was too hungover to notice? How you taught me to ride a motorcycle? I put that skill to good use, Tim.

Are you… are you proud of me?


So like, I'm riding this badass bike back to the hideout, y'know, dodging the bubbles of pure madness and those fiery snake monsters, as you do. Suddenly I'm being tailed by those other three bikes! Guess they were pretty pissed about me taking their friend's bike. First of all this fat guy on a big black bike - looked like it devoured fuel - he managed to get beside me and start ramming me. Asshole... So I try to get away from him, when this other fucktard in an immaculate white suit pulls up ahead and tries to fucking blind me with his exhaust fumes! Hell, maybe he was trying to kill me with 'em. I nearly fell off right there, but I managed to pull ahead of them, leave them in the dust, 'cause I'm awesome like that. And my bike was way faster…


Anyway, I make some crazy twists & turns to get away from them. I know this town pretty well, y'know? I mean, we were raised here. But just when I think I've lost them, this pale green bike with like, a goat skull over the headlamp, it pulls up ahead of me, and I was like “WHOAH” because that bike made NO sound. The rider - this deathly thin woman with shiny black hair - stepped off Her bike and stood right in front of me. I barely stopped in time.

KATE ANDREWS,” She said, with a voice like the echo in a morgue or something. “I ADVISE YOU RETURN THAT BIKE.”

I don't know how She knew my real name, but I freaked the fuck out. I was like “Nonono, I'm Chardonnay now!”

But then She said “YOU ARE NOT A GRAPE, KATE.” The fuck does that even mean? But holy shit was I scared. She had this real... intimidating way about her, y'know? Like Old Mrs Martins, but waaaaaaaaay worse. I was so fucking scared. I got off the bike and ran for it, all the way back here. I hope She doesn't come after me, with the rest of those guys, 'cause I'm pretty sure they're the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Tim. Remember those bikers that rode through town on Doomsday? It was them, Tim. I just... I don't know how to deal with all this, Tim. I'm not sure how much longer I can be the tough action girl. I just…


I miss you, Tim.

© Copyright 2019 Felicity Wyrd. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: