posted on Mar, 10 2012 @ 05:59 AM
The priest was on his knees, blood streaming from his nose, eyes and ears like some B-grade horror flick. Thick and bright, it streaked down his
pristine robes, down, until it pooled on the floor in clumpy knots, as his eyes lolled back in their sockets. Never had I seen such a thing outside
the realm of the idiot box, and the sight sent my stomach from what I thought was normal to a ill-designed rollercoaster ride, so much so, I feared I
would soon be joining the padre.
His mouth fluttered open, his tongue caressing his lips as he fought both to get his words out, along with his tattered breath.
“Gods!” he muttered, his voice croaky and barely audible, “Ye gods they come!”
I stood back, confused for a moment, as the only sound was the hyperventalating, ragged breath of Father Jameson. Then, almost like a slow, building
pitch of noise, the rumbles began. I felt it course up my body through the stonework of the floor. Then I was falling. I barely felt the sting of the
polished floor as by this time my extremities were numbed, my ears ringing, my voice and even my thoughts drowned out by that dreadful vibration. I
struggled to turn my head, watching as Father Jameson seemed to right himself, his eyes almost completely white now, in stark contrast to the river of
frothy red trailing down his robes. His mouth opened, calmly this time.
“Be all you who have lost faith in those you call gods, heed this call.” His voice was not his own, and despite the ringing and the
lack of sensation, the voice, although not his own, came through clearly.
“The time has come for our return,” the voice went on, increasing in pitch and tone, impossible to ignore, “as was foretold in your
ancient texts. We have watched as you, our own creation, have forsaken us, have forsaken the very ideals we installed upon you.” Ideals? Creation?
The thought of humanity as one giant experiment flashed through my mind, as the priest seemed to lift effortlessly from the floor, a glow of purest
light forming around him.
“You have failed us as servants, as we have failed you as Masters,” the booming voice continued. “We give you the knowledge of the
stars, and you misuse our wisdom to create this pitiful society.”
“You will therefore be eradicated from the prison we created for you.” The last words struck home like a knife. All that we were, all
that we are, all the freedoms we have, and all the ideals we possess were nothing more than a lie. We were created. We are an experiment.
We are slaves. Slaves to those greater than us.
The Priest’s hands rose far above his head as the light engulfed him, and far off, I could hear the sound of something coming towards us at
a rush. The sky blackened, motes of burning light flitted around me, as the wind began to stroke my hair and skin, slowly at first, then gradually
intensifying, The motes of fire danced around me, beckoning me to touch them, although I know I could not.
As the fires raged around me I saw the chariots of the Gods riding this effigy of madness and chaos, their bright silver disks and bright,
pulsing engines standing high over their long forgotten experiment now returned in full.
As they come down from the heavens aboard their flaming chariots, they watch their created world burn. Their legacy repaid in full, the
visitors from the Heavens leave this world behind, scoured of all life.
Yet they will return again, to start over. They always do.