(NOTE: I wasn’t sure which image inspired Jason but he is dedicated enough he sent from his cellphone, so I didn’t penalize him. -LV)
Pale and haunted, the world slipped by in the blink of nothingness and an empty sky, cascaded with falling stars that changed to tears as it hit the earth with thunderous eruptions of screams, and fearful pleas. The Spector took all this in with a laugh, the killer of men and the breaker of souls with one goal, the elimination of mankind’s souls.
They watched as he thrust and stabbed and beheaded all who stood before, behind and around. Leaving on traces of skin and fragments of bone and despair. Every day the sky would grow paler and paler as the ending seemed to get closer and closer. They ran and hid, some stood to fight but the end isn’t just the end but a transition to another beginning.
One women waited for her end with courage derived from the horror of all she had been through, stood ready to fight. If the fight was life ending it didn’t matter because she wanted to stand for one thing before she died. Never having stood for anything before, she knew she would probably run but she wanted to show herself, and her God she wasn’t afraid to die.
In her hands she held a sickle, drenched with the blood and memories of those the Spector took far too soon. Straightening her back she stood and walked where the Spector stood. With a sickly smile and the face of death he turned and beckoned her forward. She raised the sickle and swung, cutting an arc towards the Spector only to have the sickle pass through him. She failed.
She had failed herself and mankind. She was now only another victim of a monster that could not be killed. The doom of humanity.
“Why?” she screamed as she fell to her knees.
The Spector spoke a thousand locusts for a voice.
“Because you have destroyed the gift giving by the gods.”
“You have raped and plundered the mother now she is nothing but a shell”
“You have earned your fate, human! Enjoy Hades!”
Weeping, not believing this could be true even though the proof was before her eyes, she lay chest first on the sickle and impaling every hope, fear and ambition, every bitterness and tear, every trace of love and every moment of hate. The light slowly went out of her eyes leaving only traces of peace of mind, and a faith that maybe the next life would be better.
The Spector walked away and every step was snarled by charred footsteps as he killed, young, old, black, white it made no difference as long as death came to those who killed the All Mother, the giver of life for these creatures. The All Mother who gave her soul and her life so her creations could live.
Waking suddenly from a horrific dream, Elise felt her arms to make sure she was still there.
She knew this was a sign, she needed to sway humanity before it was too late. Knowing time was fading before her. Every night the same dream. A sense of urgency pushing her to smoke people listen. Would they listen or would they lock her away?
Only time would tell….
Jason Morton is a poet, a writer and advocate for mental health. He is featured in many anthologies and has a book of poetry through Stitched smile Publications called A the of disintegration. He is a writer that goes and defies conventional rules when it comes to writing. He wants to make you uncomfortable and wants to make you think