Gaia has existed since time immenorial. She has seen empires rise and fall. She has borne witness to the stars forming in the sky and their inevitable, blazing, deaths. She was present for the birth of entire galaxies — an avid watcher of their celestial dance through the cosmos, and a grief stricken mourner at their destruction.
Her presence gave vitality to the planet. Once a barren rock floating aimlessly through the void of space, it was transformed into paradise with her mere breath. Flora and faun thrived, creating the perfect environment for sentient life to bloom.
Humanity took their first steps under Gaia's watchful guidance. They reveled in the blessings she provided. Nothing was forbidden. The land was fertile, overflowing with riches. None knew a single moment of hardship, and so they praised her benevolence and built shrines to her name. They called her goddess, and dedicated themselves to a life of devotion and reverence. Her word was sacred.
But despite their awe, humans are imperfect beings. Even the most pious can err in a fit of emotion.
A sanctified glade was tainted, and humanity first learns the meaning of the word fear.
Gaia's wrath causes devastation the likes of which the world has yet to see.
Humans begin to understand hunger.
They begin to understand loss.
They begin to understand death.
And so they repent. Painted ashes on their skin and bowed low before her images, low enough for their foreheads to scrape the ground. When that proved insufficient, they sacrificed their prized possessions on altars of marble. And when Gaia remained unpacified, those altars ran red with blood.
Eventually, their contrition reaches the heavens, and Gaia heeds their cries. But the damage is done. Natural disasters remain and their once-paradise has shattered.
Millennia pass. As humanity's number grows ever larger, covering every inch of the planet, and along with it, so does their greed. They forget Gaia's guidance and sunder themselves from her grace.
They take and they take and they take.
And Gaia grows ever weaker.
Until a day comes where all that is left of her influence is a single tree in the depths of a mountain range long abandoned by those who have fled for the safety of other planets.
What little divinity she has left has barely been enough to sustain it until this moment, and even now she can feel that last of it trickling away.
She will not leave.
(She cannot.)
It does not matter.
The tree dies, and Gaia fades.
In the same breath, the Earth withers and everything turns to ash. Once more a barren wasteland, it becomes a cautionary tale for future generations.
(title inspired by Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem, O_zymandias_)
He kneels in front of her grave. Eyes sweeping over her name, slowly taking in each golden letter engraved into the stone. This was the only evidence she ever even existed, the last memory of a woman who deserved so much more. Before he came into the picture and took all that she had.
He wonders at his own lack of remorse. Not for the first time, he questions whether he’s broken.
As always, it’s followed up by the thought that he doesn’t care.
This lonely grave was his trophy. His macabre method of immortalizing the people whose life he took. It was far more satisfying than some petty object or organ he could have take from his victims. And far less suspicious. Who would question the mourning of an old man? Who would deprive a grief-stricken visitor of his solitude?
It was the perfect cover.
As he stood up, he took care to wipe the smile from his face. From his coat, he produced a bouquet of roses and bent down to place it on the soil. For a reason he knew not, a thrill of foreboding shot up his spine and he quickly whipped around.
Nothing. No one was in the graveyard except for him.
Something cold grasped his ankle.
With a muffled yelp he glanced down to see a decomposed hand rising from the dirt and reaching towards his leg. It had a strong grip. No matter how he writhed, it was all in vain. There was no escape. Another hand popped out, slowly, torturously making its way towards his flesh.
He began to feel weak. The more he struggled, the more energy sapped out of him. In less than a minute he had resigned himself to lying on the ground. What had once been a putrid, decaying, corpse forcing its way out of the ground was now an almost perfect replica of himself.
In the last seconds of his consciousness, he saw his own face grinning triumphantly down at him, as it leaned down and plucked the hat straight from his own head. It walked off merrily, humming a jaunty tune as it carried off the bouquet he had given.
He never knew soil could be so cold.
Death is the inevitable truth of human existence. The one thing that no one, not even the most powerful can escape.
Or so they say.
It's not quite that simple anymore. Not after tonight. Tonight, there is work, the blasphemy of science itself, to behold. Tonight, a man's life will come to its long-awaited end. Tonight, a man closes his eyes, his breath slowing, his heart beating to a stop within. Death will claim him, as it has done so for countless humans over the millennia.
And then.
A spark of electricity. The humming of machinery. And a flash of light-
The man's eyes open once more. He does so with a scream, one so filled with pain and terror and anguish, that scientists who've surrounded his bed (anxiously awaiting the results of their experiment) will recoil in fear. There is something in his voice that rekindles the primal instincts hidden so deeply inside their minds.
The man will rise from his table, eyes bleeding red, and the soul-wrenching scream still issuing from his lips. He will lunge at the nearest person and wrap his hands around their shoulders, shaking them with an unnatural force.
He will beg them to send him back.
They will not.
Man is not meant to tamper with the realm of gods. And yet in their arrogance, they will continue to do so, in spite of the many warnings put in their way.
I struggled against my shackles, desperately pulling and tugging at the metal wound tightly around my wrists, but it was of no use. I sigh.
"Really dude?" I yelled out into the dark. "This again? "
"There are easier ways to get me to take a break you know! There is no need for these melodramatics!"
A door at the other end of the room opens, revealing a familiar figure. I do my damnedest to glare at them, in spite of my position.
"I wouldn't have to resort to this if you just stopped working for one gosh darned minute, little sister." He eyes me disapprovingly.
"Ugh." I roll my eyes. "I swear, you pull one all-nighter and suddenly your brother goes into ultra protective mode and locks you up for a whole night. And you have the nerve to mock me!"
I grab the note to my left with my free hand, with the words encouraging my escape mocking me cheerfully. "Seriously?! What, is this an escape room now?"
My brother shrugs, completely unrepentant. "Hey, to be fair, it wasn't my idea. Mom suggested it- said you might stay in here and rest for a while longer if you had a puzzle to work on. Turning this," he gestured around him, "into a faux escape situation seemed to be a good idea at the time."
I ball up the piece of paper in my hand and throw it at him half-heartedly. He winces.
"Well. Guess it isn't?" He smiles sheepishly.
I fall back agains the wall with a huff, and cross my arms. Hints of a pout begin to appear. "I can't believe mom is in on this shtick too. Can't a scientist get any peace around here?"
It's his turn to roll his eyes. "If you stopped spending all your time in the lab instead of with us, maybe we wouldn't have to literally kidnap you to get you to sleep every once in a while."
"Whatever." I turn away from him childishly and proceed to ignore his attempts at further conversation. As usual.
He eventually sighs. "Fine, fine. I'll let you out. But you have to come to dinner with me and dad for tonight, okay? We haven't seen you in weeks. Mom misses you, you know!"
That, I wasn't ashamed to admit, got through to me, and I conceded. My older brother unlocked the cuffs which bound me to the wall, and helped me up. To be fair, it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be. The mattress Iusually slept on in here was actually fairly good, and I got some of my best sleep in this place, though I would never admit it out loud.
As the two of us walked out, I began muttering under my breath, already making plans for the next time they planned to "kidnap" me.
"I'm definitely setting up traps in the lab next time."
I held the note, my eyes quickly scanning through the message. It was simple, short, and to the point.
"It begins. Bring the Elephant and the Teacup. Docks, 9 pm."
After years and years of planning, everything was going to end night. All that was left to do was to bring the two people who would be instrumental to the restoration of order to our country to the right place. The revolution would be over.
Then...
Then I will finally have peace.
I shivered. The thing I had been longing for all this time was here, practically in my reach. My fists clench, and it takes all of my willpower not to let out a relieved sigh.
"Is everything alright miss?" My young charge asks, his tone polite but concerned. I quickly hide my hands behind my back and face him with my best veneer of calmness.
"Of course, your higness. Everything is fine. I have simply received an update on what to do next."
His eyes widen. For once, he does not comment on my use of his title, rather than his name."We can finally come out of hiding?"
"Yes," I open my mouth to explain further, but his sister interrupts.
She slams her book shut and raises a single, perfectly styled, eyebrow at me. "Finally. It has taken far too long. When will we move?"
"As soon as possible, if it pleases, your majesty."
The smile which she directs at me is sharklike. A predator's expression. It is absurd how unsettling I find it to be, considering my position.
"Excellent. Let's show these usurpers the wrath of the Elephant Royalty, shall we?"
I straighten up and incline my head towards her. Underneath her breath, I could hear a murmur.
"Viva la revolution."
A wise man once said, that here are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.
Well.
He was right.
Humanity isn't the only living species in the endless expanse of space. There are many, many, more. Millions- no, billions, of sentient beings exist in the universe. It was sheer arrogance for us humans to assume otherwise (then again, that's what humanity does best- arrogance.)
But. That's not important.
All of us, all of the beings in creation; are inconsequential. Because while we were a so busy screaming into the void, desperately trying to make a mark in our ephemeral galaxies-
We forgot to pay attention when the void screamed back.
And reality-
shattered.
. . . . .
That would have been the end of it. It should have been the end of it. But humans, in all of their infinite stubbornness, took arms and stood against the void.
A last stand, with the force of all humanity from the beginning of time till its end, with the magic of every story ever told, with the hope of every last beating heart left alive-
And-
We won.
All my dreams come true.
In the night, when I lie on my bed and fall into a deep slumber, my mind weaves a collection of dreams. Dreams built on my desires, my fears, my hopes and despairs.
And when I wake up, whatever I dreamt of will become a reality. The only catch is that I cannot control what I dream of. Every night, every dream, is a roll of the dice.
I've had this ability for as long as I can remember, but the funny thing is, I don't really have anything to wish for. I mean, sure, I have wants and needs like any normal person. But there's nothing that I would be willing to give up everything for to get.
That is, until I lost my child.
Now, all I want in life is to hold her in my arms again and tell her that everything will be alright. I want to feel her heart and feel her breathe and smile and laugh and-
Live.
I spend my days asleep. Desperately hoping for a dream where I see her and bring her back to life. I've spent more time asleep than awake in the last year.
The dreams have stopped.
But I keep sleeping.
A lifetime of neglect and abandonment had taught her to treasure every ounce of love ever sent her way. She'd learned how to clutch and steal and hoard whatever affection she could find in this empty world. So when a man comes along, offering sweet words and caring touches and promises of a life of everlasting love, she fell fast. And she fell hard.
She didn't see the cold, hard, ground speeding up towards her until she landed, crashing hard into reality.
Wait, no, not reality.
A nightmare.
Everything he'd said and done, all in the name of his "love" for her, was nothing more than a deception. A deception he was now using against her.
She could do nothing but try to run and hide; but how could you hide from someone who knew every inch of you? Down to her very essence, her very soul (she'd given everything to him, and oh how she regretted her naivety), everything had been laid bare before him, and where it had once brought her great relief...
It would now be the cause of her undoing.
She only hopes that her death will be swift and painless.
She knows it will not be so.
The first thing you have to understand is that it wasn't my fault. How could I have known he was going to get hurt? It was just supposed to be a prank. It was supposed to be funny, for god's sake!
All I wanted was to put a smile on his face. I didn't- gods, I didn't know it would end up like this.
I choke back a sob as my mind goes over the events of the afternoon.
Today was my best friend's birthday. It also happened to be April Fools day. With an opportunity like that, of course I had to play a prank on him! The temptation was too strong to resist. I couldn't plan anything too complicated, but any old joke would work. It was the thought that counts, right?
I went for an old classic. The old bucket on top of the door trick. It was supposed to be easy. He opens the door, the bucket falls on him, and he gets drenched. Except that didn't happen.
How the hell was I supposed to know he was allergic to maple fucking syrup?
Yeah, I forgot to mention the bucket wasn't filled with water. It had syrup instead. In my defense, it was supposed to make the prank funnier. He hates feeling sticky, so I knew it was the exact sort of thing to piss him off. And after, we could go get his birthday pancakes (an annual tradition), and make jokes about what happened!
Do you see how well I planned everything out?
But nope. Now everything's screwed and instead of IHOP I'm in a hospital, waiting for news on my friend.
Fucking April Fools.
Never again.
