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fractal007
Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958


0 posted 2001-08-21 04:20 AM


Prologue:  The Future

Julia, the Queen of all humanity, watched helplessly as human civilization opened itself up before her.  She watched as Wallas and Marnke's love blossomed into a new civilization of people.  She could hear the cries of the dying last remnant of Utopia, as it committed revolutionary suicide. The bombs and the missiles hurled across the vast city as quickly as did the harsh words.  The city vanished in a great fireball of hatred.

But the human family went on.

Slowly, the peoples of each tribe and setlement merged into one great civilization.  Marnke's children flourished and Earth was reborn.  No longer was it a world of cruel darwinism or war.  It was replaced by a collective civilization of creatures so much more advanced than the simple primates who had served as its womb.  

Despite its utopian nature, the human race still had one problem.  Throughout all the mutations, whether willfuly initiated or randomly selected by nature, a small gene pool refused to integrate into the rest of humanity.  They were left behind as everyone else developed the abilities of interdimensional travel and psychic communication.  Julia looked onward as the ‘monkeys,' as they'd been labelled, were forced to find a way on their own.  She watched as the human race was once again forced to mark out its own redemption.

And so, the story unfolded, and the ‘monkeys' - the last remnants of a forgotten species - found their own way...

The Witness

I can’t quite remember when it was that I began - only that it was gray and dark all about me.  I could hear a subtle, yet gently welcoming wind greeting me.  The slowly moving grays and whites and blacks all blended in with each other as I moved my being for the first time.  My self, new and inexperienced in life as it was, knew that something was gravely wrong.  I heard sounds blur into my perception as the grays faded and gave
way to this... this world of light and day.

I’ve lived my life onward in the world of light and earth.  But the gray world of my birth still haunts me.  Something was gravely wrong.

Birth

The woman lie there on the pile of hay, clinging for her life as she gave birth to another life.  All about her, farm animals mingled and simple shephards roamed about, guarding her.  The woman was paying them what they considered more than they could possibly have made in their simple lives.  This was her child.  Her husband looked onward.

The animals and the shephards drew closer, as the baby emerged.  Small trickles of blood accompanied the newborn, and the woman finally breathed her last, collapsing and accepting death.

Michael

The simple farm hands looked onward, as Michael, the strange boy from the eastern villages, mingled about, throwing stones at toads, with deadly accuracy.  This was his favourite game - destroying pesky grubby creatures that crawled about on the ground.  

“He is but a small child,” one of the farm hands chuckled and said to another by his side.

“So innocent,” a woman commented, “yet so destructive.  Truly he will grow to be like us.”

Everyone in the field laughed as Michael left the area, still pegging toads and kicking ant hills.  He was an innocent boy, bound to grow to be just like them.

The Paintbrush in the Sky

The clouds in distant skies parted slowly, allowing for that beautious thing to enter and take up the paint that was so many generations old.  The dried, ruined crust, now firmly planted and living in comforting retirement, formed the walls of a pool. The fresh paint of a new generation lived inside this pool.  It was gathered and painted on a white new canvas, scattered like ancient seeds in an empty field.

Slowly, the brush stroked each new line onto the canvas.  A box was drawn first, and then another box.  Soon, the boxes numbered greater than the sands of the sea, or the waves of the ocean.  As more boxes were seen, hit became apparent that a message was being made.  When the boxes were looked upon in their entirety they said, in unison, the message of the maker of the brush: “You refused to change.”

The boxes dried and were now firmly planted, taking their seats upon the canvas - upon the land - in
comforting retirement.  They refused to change.  But they had to change, or else they would all suffer death.

His Silence

I watched as our creation was butchered before our very eyes.  I could hear every scream of pain and every cry for help.  The few that were righteous stabbed me with those piercing shrieks of terror.  I looked beside me, about me.  I asked if I could help.  Everyone told me not to.  The walls of my mind became the trap that held me inside, confining me, closing me in, as I was devoured by each scream and torn to pieces by the sorrow and the pain.

I asked to help, but everyone told me not to.  They would have to find their own way, just as we’d found
ours.  The voices inside me told me that this was exactly what we looked like.

I stared, unable to unfix my eyes, as women were ripped to shreds while carrying unborn children.  I
watched as children were torn to flakes and melted to mud.  The giants of men and women towered over
them, crushing their dusty bones.  Why didn’t they just end it?  Why couldn’t they just learn as we did?  The innocent men, women, and children fell and the towers of men and women grew stronger.  No one dared move a muscle to help, lest he be cut down.  Their screams were left unheard by all but me, as their skulls were finely crushed.

I watched and listened and wailed in those confines as they found their way.  I watched as our creation was butchered before my very eyes.  I couldn’t help.  No one would let me.  

But still my tears fell on them...

Our Response

When Michael laid himself to sleep in his youth, his mind was a jumble of voices and plans.  The woman he loved more than anything else in the world was about to become his and he hers.  The universe, the world and his mind were all in perfect harmony.  His bed of hay and straw accepted him warmly.  His eyes closed and he felt his body go limp and heavy until everything dropped away undernieth him.  

Coalescing red orbs in a sea of darkness congregated together, as frozen, homeless families against the cold.  The shades of black and red grew together, to form an image.  The land appeared, in red.  The sun, mournfully gazing upon it, beheld the mangled, twisted bodies of innocent ones that numbered like the sands of the ocean.  All was silence as the image floated there in an empty sea without end, in untangiable waters.  

Slowly, the bodies melted together, and fell into individual forms.  Each was the form of a person standing straight.  On the front of each person’s chest was written “I served my master well.  Now my name is forgotten.”  Slowly, the heads of the people melted away into thick acid, which poured down and ate away at the rest of their bodies.  Soon all that was left was a land covered in a black sludge.  

The red lands clumped together to form a man with three eyes.  The largest eye, on the top of the other two, glowed like the sun.  The man stood there in the blackness and shook his head in complete desparation.  “Why?” He asked again and again.  He dropped his head and it fell away from his body, which in turn died away.  The head now took the form of a man.  

The man stood there, motionless, leading a regular life, until the three-eyed man reappeared and placed a great hook into his jaw, and dragged him forth into a massive battlefield.  

The three-eyed man then said, “This is your saviour.  This is your messiah.”

The three-eyed man then disappeared, and the messiah walked into darkness, never to be seen by Michael again.

Michael awoke the next day, feeling refreshed and almost euphoric.  The world was his.  Everything was in perfect harmony.  Today was the day he would start a family of his own.

The Day

Gasping for breath, struggling for life, darkness creeps into the field of vision.  People fall out of the comforts of ground and into the void of nothingness above, gasping, clawing, screaming into nothingness.  Final, fleeting visions of stars on blackness end the day.

I saw that blackness once again.  The cold grays and blacks embraced eachother, allowing no life to pass through.  Why could they not rebuild?  Why didn’t they care?  Something was wrong.  Everything was terribly wrong.

The rain falls on the two fallen men, mixing their blood, the mud, the world of pain, into one single cespool of sorrow.  No one will change, everyone will pay the price.  This is the end.  This is Humankind’s Redemption.

I watched the bride on her wedding night.  She awoke with a start early next morning.  She could feel something pressing, angrily fighting.  

Those indescribably feelings of horrifying unnamable beasts pressed against her stomache - the messiah alive within her.

The Colours

Brilliant colours meshed about on the cold waters that sat above the gray surface.  These were the days of now.  The sounds of children splashing about danced in the distance, while the water sat there, cold and indifferent.  The waters played on the surface.  The colours flashed in their continual dance.  

A boy played and ran in a world of grays and brilliant lights.  He bounced a ball, running away from others who wanted the ball.  The ball continued to bounce in his hands.  The boy ran onward, the ball moved, and the world went dark.

Epilogue:  Pryna

The men and women aboard the Misty Surge hoisted the sails and rigging of their vessel, as they watched the misty caves and rocks move past them.  The gentle, cool breeze of the sea embraced their faces as the sea gently lashed against the hull of their ship.  The Misty Surge gently rocked to and fro as she went on her way.  

On the land, people hunted and gathered, bringing great beasts to civilization to be eaten.  While on a hunting trip, Michael, now twenty-nine years old, gazed out from the precipice of Mount Sere At Da’ Boc.  He watched the mists gently wind their floating paths through the trees below.  He heard the gentle rustle of the trees as the sun set.  

The stars overhead shimmered in their ocean of calm blackness.  The distant milk of the stars without end poured over Michael’s vision.  He could see stars without end and worlds without end, and could barely imagine the possibilities of what lie out there.  Others had told him that the sky was but a firmament, a draped cloth that held lights.  Michael knew the truth.  He had seen the countless worlds numbered like the sands of the sea and the waves of the ocean.  

Every night the One With Three Eyes would show Michael a new vista of worlds.  What would he show him tonight?  Michael sat down in silence, resting his bow in his lap, as the day came to an end.

"If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh"

-- Magus

© Copyright 2001 fractal007 - All Rights Reserved
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