The shining orb of burning fire began its slow descent into the earth. The atmosphere slowly filtering out the shorter, much hotter rays of light, gradually bringing the temperature down and shifting the neutral daylight to fiery dusk. The sky turned into tangerines and strawberries, and the clouds into cotton candy. Shadows stretched and contorted, distorting the world into a surreal landscape of bizarre creatures and unearthly monuments. As the Earth continued its rotation, the shadows expanded and the colors melted into each other muddying until all that remained was a deep inky sea of darkness, and a small glowing rock rose lazily into the air to greet the night, acting the part of a reflector, bringing the long set fiery ball’s light back into the world, if only just faintly.

“Tonight will be our last sunset. You will never see me again.” The strange ethereal inky cloud of smoke said in an echoey underwater voice. “What? Why do you say that? Why are you always so dramatic?” The small unusual girl sitting next to it asked, almost flippant, trying to hide her concern. Her white hair shone gold in the sunset, her large pupil-less eyes reflected pearlescent. Her desert tan skin glowed youthfully. “I haven’t seen you in a century and that’s the first thing you say to me?” She said, irritated at her old friend. “I don’t have anyone left.” It replied. “They’ve all gone.” “How is that possible? It seemed like there were so many just last century.” “You forget how short their lives are. My dear, it’s already 2022. Many of the new gods have been in power since the industrial revolution. And some who have already vanished again in the face of advancement, living hardly longer than a human. There are so few of us left and our people keep turning away from us, or dying before sharing our cultures. It was only a matter of time.” The girl looked incredibly somber. Her age became entirely questionable. No little girl had the capacity to look that thread bare and tired and sad. “Where do we go when we die? I’ve often asked myself, but do you ever wonder Aezo?” The little, but not young, girl asked. Aezo was silent for a minute. “I’ve spoken with Anubis before. He believes we cannot be created or destroyed, not truly. We are beings of energy. He believes if a god ‘dies’, another god is ‘born’, or is gaining in influence. I saw my own brother blink out of existence suddenly. He had no more believers, his version of life once elevated to the point of worship and adoration was antiquated, while humans are born into the church of technology, and television, and instant gratification, I don’t even have enough power to take a physical form anymore. I’m old, I used to know all the gods. Now there are too many to count and many I knew are now divided into thousands of pointless and useless demi-gods, and I am almost with them. Let me pass on. I’m too tired to care anymore.” “I forgot how depressing you death gods were.” Said the girl in mock disappointment. She looked incredibly forlorn. Her youthful skin had gained wrinkles and cracks like the dunes and dried mud of the desert the light tan color invoked. “You asked me a serious question about death. You do know HOW old I am, right? I’m not like these new gods, or even like you. I’m more…singular. Death is all I think about.” “So why, if death is still so prevalent, are you fading?” “One of the core rituals surrounding my existence is now considered corpse defilement. It’s socially unacceptable to eat a human body, even if they are dead and consent is given. Also there’s a lot to do with blood and stuff, it was messy.” He said as if talking about sports, or a movie. Very nonchalant. “I see.” The girl who was no longer a girl, but a withered old lady of girl height, her dulling eyes revealing the knowledge of many millennia. “So what happens now?” She asked dejectedly, turning to Aezo, but he was already gone. Leaving an empty sadness in the space he once inhabited.

What world is this? Nothing is familiar. Where is my comforting embrace of heat and sand and dry air? Was I dead? Was hell the opposite of everything ever described? Blinding white, icy demon fingers clawing, a dead hand gripping my lungs, particles of pale sky quickly turning to water on my skin. The stiffness of my fingers slowly extending to my wrists and from my toes up to my ankles, I must be dead. My plane has gone down and I am currently entering rigor mortis. They will find me like one of those cavemen found high up on a mountain. Perfectly preserved like a warning to those who dare leave the warmth and the sun and the caress of the dry air. I could no longer feel my extremities. The pathetic gloves, boots, and coat, were worth less than nothing. I once thought nights where I could just barely see my breath condensing in the air were miserable. I have never known true misery. The wind blew a mournful gust that felt like my soul was no longer in the warmth of my body and the very bones of my frame crackled with cold. I wished and prayed to all the gods to be home. But the snow continues to fall and I am still miserable.

He stumbled through the dense underbrush of the emerald green mountain. Cursing under his breath he picked himself up off the ground and trudged ahead. He desperately wished he had a brush-knife. His sword was too long and heavy and his dagger was too short. He cursed again as thorns ripped through his trousers into his thigh. He paused and looked up, trying to determine how much time he had before night swallowed him up, and shortly thereafter, some wild beast. The trees concealed the telltale signs he normally relied on, but he was sure the day was almost vanquished. He pulled out his hand-drawn map and poured over it futilely. He knew the map was useless at this point. He had no idea where he was and he wondered if he was off the map entirely, or if his brother had drawn a useless map. At this rate he would be trapped outside when the veil thinned, and everyone knew the closer one was to the sky, the thinner the veil. It was the worst kind of day to be lost and alone on a mountain. He cursed again and shoved his useless map back into his pack. He heard a strange, deep, echoing groan. It sounded like a glacier settling. But there were no glaciers for hundred of leagues. He picked up his pace. The light was fading quickly. He knew if he headed up, he had a chance of finding the cabin, it was somewhere just below the peak. He knew he wouldn’t make it before sunset, and his blade would taste blood that night. His eyes strained to pick out details I’m the distance where he once expertly ascertained every aspect of his surroundings. He heard another groan, longer and deeper than the first. It was beginning. The solstice was almost upon him. He began to feel his hairs stand on end. The air felt heavy and electric, like the moments before a storm. He was already moving faster than he was capable of. His limbs throwing the sweat pouring down his body. He recited a prayer, “I give you this offering of my body’s water, I give you the fruits of my pain. Please hear me oh Earth, give me life, give me direction.” Though no words could have made it out, his thoughts and intentions were palpable. It wasn’t an approved prayer, but he figured the gods cared more for honesty than for ritual. He cursed again as he realized the moon provided his only sight. Suddenly a strong gust of wind knocked him off his feet, simultaneously the most intense and rumbling groan of all tore through the mountainside. He threw himself to his feet, drawing his sword with practiced moves. The wind continued to blow, though more like a tornado than a hurricane. The trees cried out their chaotic praise to the gods. The wind sang it’s sorrowful song. The man stood for a moment frozen in his anticipation for a fight. Just before he decided to begin his trek once more, a loud explosion and a blinding blue light threw him to the ground and blinded him. He cradled his throbbing head. He felt the air tickle his erect hair, and he felt more than enough anticipation for a festival of villagers to worship the gods for a week. The sound that followed was like a glacier crumbling, lighting striking, and a blazing fire all at once. The heat, the throbbing of the air, the sound crackling and groaning like a dragon in slumber. The man demanded and begged for his hands to grip his weapon, his arms to lift it to the sky, and his legs to lift him to meet his foe, but nothing responded for what felt like an eternity. Finally rising to his feet, he addressed the strange, sight before him. The air seemed wrong. It rippled and waved like a burning summer in the southern deserts, and felt hot and cold at the same time. He took a hesitant step forward. The scene was not unlike the one he’d been frantically traversing for the last two hours. The trees seemed older, some on the fringe of the strand mirage were half ancient and half sapling. The most glaring difference was the man who slowly approached. The first man dropped to a knee and raised his weapon above his head, ready to strike. He sniffed the air, noting the smell that follows a lightning strike. The other man didn’t seem as afraid or apprehensive. He didn’t wield any obvious weapon and his clothes were strange. They were colorful and soft-looking, unlike the first man, and very much like the wealthy traders and politicians the first man had seen visiting the city and hiring his protective services. The second man seemed increasingly bewildered. The first man was unsure whether he has seen him at all. He rose up slowly, keeping his sword ready to fulfill its purpose at a moments notice. The second man noticed him. His bewilderment changed to genuine surprise and interest. The first man knew he could rely on his sense for people. This man appeared, as far as he could tell, to be harmless and potentially friendly, if not simply tolerable. He raised his hand in a greeting. The other man, frozen in place mirrored the move. The phenomenon emitted enough light to tell what what happening, however it wasn’t until the two men got closer either of them could make out the precise features of the other. Both men froze, looking the other over. Each knew, though the first man had only seen his reflection in water and primarily moving water saving for once when he worked for a worldly lady who had a polished mirror, that they could be twins. They were identical. The second man had a cleaner trimmed beard than the first, but he had let his beard grow long and unruly on a long back-country hike a few years back, and he looked exactly like the first. And the first man had worked for the wealthy lady, who insisted her whole guard had nearly trimmed beards and fine clothing, and recognized himself. The two were unsure how to proceed. Both men believed their gods were showing them a miracle. The first, the gods of life and death, and creation, performing their magnificent dance, just as they did at the beginning of everything. The other man believed his unchanging, ever-reliable science had proved his theories correct once more. It took several minutes, or perhaps just a second, for someone to speak. Their voice sounding echoey and distant, like speaking through a cave. The second man said “I’m Gunther, but my friends call me Gunner. I assume your name is Gunther as well?” “I am Gunther, but I will not guess at how the gods work.” Gunther replied. “This is incredible.” Gunner replied, laughing.“I’ve never seen a rift of this magnitude!” Gunther didn’t understand. Though he kept this to himself. He only thought of the danger of this night. “I need shelter and protection from the horrors of the Thinning. Can you help me?” He asked, betraying none of his fear. Gunner looked confused, “We can only view what’s on the other side of a tear, I’m sorry.” “We have plenty a beast and godly creature traverse the veil. I know it is possible, so not lie to me Denair.” He said, ensuring to be respectful of those who dwell in the veil. Gunner quickly retrieved a strange object from his clothing and began to write aggressively. Gunther knew at this point he was meeting with a god. Only the rich could write, but he figured considering the events of the night, that gods must write as well. He wondered for a moment if the gods loved the rich more than those less fortunate, since they reflected them so closely. He dispelled it immediately. No god would visit him if they cared more for the rich. He was not rich by any tenet of the gods. Gunner spoke again. “Could you please approach the tear?” He said. “Nothing has ever crossed the tear into our world. I’d like to test a theory.” Just as Gunther took a step forward, figuring a god should be obliged, and fearing what would happen if he didn’t. He felt the air get thicker and more tumultuous. It felt like the vibrations from the sea-caves he once visited working for a renowned privateer ten or more years prior. Gunner seemed to become excited as Gunther approached. This made Gunther hesitate. He started to wonder if this god was evil. A trickster of some sort, only wanting Gunther to take his place in the veil as he pranced around, free to reek chaos Gunther went from excited to uncertain to scared as a trill sound began, only to be overpowered by a barely audible groan and a boom. Gunther realized he didn’t hear the proceeding sounds, as the noise of surrounding him filled his ears. He turned to see a large, unusual beast slowly stumbling forward and swinging its broad head, smelling its new surroundings. Gunther’s heart raced. He was on the verge of meeting the rest of the gods, and he knew it. The beast stood taller than any Gunther had seen to this day. At least three men high. It’s powerful feet boomed with each hesitant step. It didn’t take long for its instincts to engage and for it to fixate on Gunther. He reeked of a days worth of hiking and trudging through the thick forest. It paused for a second before charging. Gunther heard Gunner yelling behind him. He caught only a few words as the blood pounded in his ears and his sweat poured down his face. “Come through the tear!” Gunther didn’t want to but the beast was approaching faster than he thought possible for a monster of this size. He didn’t want to enter the veil, but he had no interest in meeting the gods in this way. He turned towards his twin and ran into the shimmering portal. After an intense moment of sharp pain and strange sensations of what felt like water rushing around him, Gunther found himself lying on the ground looking to the stars. There was yelling and loud pops Gunther had never heard before. Flashes of light tore through the dark, dense air. He heard growls, roars, and whimpers as the sounds receded. He wanted to move but had no ability. He didn’t know where his sword was, and didn’t even consider how he would use it. He resigned himself to whatever fate waited. Watching the stars above him, noting how one or two moved. One flashing red and green slowly. After what felt like the entire night, Gunner appeared in his field of view and held out hand. Gunther found the strength to reach out and was lifted to his feet with just a little difficulty. He found the beast lying lifeless a short distance away and sighed in relief. Gunner sighed in like. Looking further, Gunther could see more strange windows like the one he just stepped through. There were more than he was ever seen, and he thanked the gods he only saw humans. Strange humans, but no creatures, beasts, or monsters, as far as he could tell, and he was grateful. He cursed under his breath at his brother, and his useless map. He then cursed himself for taking the time and the job that brought him this close to a weakness in the veil. He turned to Gunner, who was tapping violently on a strange, flat object that emitted light and sound. “What in the names’ of the gods just happened?” Gunther asked. “Fuck if I know!” Gunner said, looking up from his strange device. “But it can’t be coincidence for us to meet like this. If I have anything to say about it, I’m gonna figure it out. You hungry?” Gunther had no idea what he’d gotten into, but he realized he hadn’t eaten for most of the day, and his stomach growled as vigorously as the beast that attacked, and decided food was good. “I could eat.” He said. Gunner smiled a fat, giddy smile. “I thought you might say that. Come on, my camp is probably in the same place you’d set it up. Welcome to my Reality!” He yelled, raising his hand to the gods in a motion akin to worship. Gunther still didn’t understand everything, but he didn’t care. His stomach was already guiding him to the food, and his mind was too overwhelming to think anymore. He just followed the man who shared his face. “Let’s eat.” He said, no longer concerned with where his sword was or who this man was. He knew answers would come if he was patient, and so he lent his faith to the gods, and prayed he would live to swing his sword again. Wherever it was.

A crashing downstairs woke me up. “Whatthefuck?!” I yelled, falling out of bed onto a pile of legos. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!” I rolled off the danger-zone to safety on the pile of dirty clothes next to it. Peeling the caltrops off my body I got up and looked around. Everything seemed normal. My girlfriend slept soundly on the right side of the bed, pausing her adorable coma with a few grunts and a snore, before rolling over and resuming her cozy hibernation beneath the piles of soft loot from various authorized resellers. I quickly outfitted myself with a pair of fuzzy pink ( not just in color but also brand) pants, plunging my hands into the laundry-beast in the closet again and crawled Into a far-too-tight-tee depicting Marilyn Monroe in black-and-white blowing a vivid pink bubble, and some words in a red border that said something inspiring. “Why can’t I ever find my own clothes?” I asked desperately. “Probably because you only own a business week’s worth of outfits and it’s Saturday.” I imagined my girlfriend saying. Another crash from downstairs. Cozy girlfriend rolled over once more and mumbled something about the aliens in the garage and aim for the soft bits before resuming a loud nasally chainsaw sound effect. I heaved the mounding clothing monstrosity aside and produced a tactical tomahawk, and a pair of brass knuckles. “I’ve always wanted a home invasion.” I whispered, gazing at the shiny metal hungrily. I jumped up and quietly snuck to the door. I listened for a second before carefully unlocking the seven locks that protected us from Carl, the very unusual roommate who had a bad habit of sleep lock-picking and voyeurism. After remembering the alphanumeric code on the final lock, I peeked into the small hallway. Carl and Dom’s doors were closed. No light emanated from beneath. I wondered what time it was. Dom kept weird hours. Always sneaking out in the dead of night, bringing heavy, wet bags into his room, and always chanting in some foreign language. “I can’t wait to move out of this fucking loony bin.” I whispered under my breath, briefly considering entering Dom’s room and asking him to investigate with me, but I knew he kept several knives nearby when he slept, “always be ready to defend yourself, or die trying.” He told me once, and I couldn’t agree more. However, I’d rather not die by psychopathic roommate. Another crash from downstairs. It was kinda muffled, so I figured they must be in the garage. I headed towards the stairs. Avoiding all the creaking spots with practiced precision, until one wrong step and I unleashed an unholy fart that lasted a whole twenty seconds. I smiled, appreciating the endurance, but then I heard the garage door open. A few wet sounding footsteps proceeded into the kitchen, which lay at the bottom of the stairs, and after a few nerve wracking moments heard the same footsteps retreat back to the garage. I continued down the stairs carefully placing my feet in a middle-left-left-right-repeat pattern. At the bottom of the stairs and around the corner of the landing, the empty kitchen came into view. A strange, boggy smell lingered in the air and I felt apprehensive. I ignored the feeling and turned left towards the living room. The door to the garage was off to the left just beyond the chest freezer which was long overdue to be cleaned out. I passed these landmarks and proceeded. I steadied myself, prepared for the unexpected, and threw open the cold metal door. Two grey-green men stood in the middle of the room taking turns huffing an open gas can. I screamed and hurled the tomahawk at the genitalia of the first. It screamed and collapsed into an extraterrestrial pile. The other stumbled backwards in surprise and tripped over some torture devices Dom called his ‘normal tools’. I pounced, punching him in his tiny shriveled gonads repeatedly. After a minute I heard a deep pulsating rumble, and upon investigation, saw the sky blacked out by alien ships. “That’s a lot of space balls to bust.” I said, wiping the blood from my knuckles, and texting my girlfriend, “BRB, gotta start a resistance.” “Okey! Please be home by 6:00, I’m making sushi and burgers, and wash the blood out from under your nails before you eat!” “Yes ma’am” I replied before running out into the street screaming “For Humanity!!!”