Apocalypse Then
Posted: 2005-05-20 03:00am
This is a piece of fiction I'm writing. I haven't decided whether the main character is crazy or not yet, and I don't think that even if I do decide that I'll ever reveal it. It's more of a character study set in an apocalyptic universe than a piece of apocalyptic fiction, really. Can you all just let me know what you think of it? Thanks.
My family is dead. Pretty much all of them. I'm sure I have an aunt
or an uncle who's still alive, but I don't really know any of them
particularly well, and in any case, they don't really matter. My
mother, my father, my brother and my sister are dead. The family I
knew and grew up with. It happened all at once, too quickly for me to
even comprehend it right then. It was in a car, and I was the only one
who survived. I was also the only one not wearing a seatbelt, and the
only one bending into the cargo area looking for something out of my
book bag. I was the only one who got thrown from the car. I was the
only one without a scratch on me. Well, I had some scratches on my
head, and they bled pretty bad, and a concussion, but no major damage.
Not even a skull fracture.
The doctors say I'm a miracle. I don't feel like a miracle. I have
nobody. My friends think I'm crazy. None of them talk to me anymore. I
live off of a life insurance policy that my father had. I feel like
kind of a hermit. My only friend is Sam. And he's kind of an asshole.
Plus, I don't really know whether or not he's real. He tells me not to
think of it. He tells me I should always start in the beginning. So I
guess I will.
It supposedly all began during World War I. Well, the pertinent stuff
did. A new kind of human evil occurred, and it started to tear a
hole. Apparently all that kind of shit does it, but the evil in that
war forced a permanent wedge, and let a lot of bad stuff start coming
through. Then the second war happened, and combined with the events
going on in Stalinist Russia, it was just too much. The hole became
impossible to close. All this evil kept on getting worse and worse.
Pol Pot and the Vietnam war, and all kinds of genocide on a massive
scale, all happening in short bursts, just kept making things worse.
Then I was born. Apparently I'm the key to something. I don't really
know. He tends to ramble a lot, and it's hard to get him to clarify
things. Plus he's kind of a bastard. I don't know. Sam is short for
Samael. He says he's a demon, but not of the classic variety. A double
agent, sort of. He's there to stop the onslaught, or to slow it any
way he can. I don't think he does a very good job. I don't really
think he's even trying too hard. Maybe all that time around real evil
has corrupted him, made him indiscernible from the genuine article. Or
maybe he's just always been rotten, but missed the fall. Or, maybe
he's been lying to me the whole time. I looked up the name. It says
he's the accuser in the old testament. He's the guy who tells God how
horrible humanity is. His presence doesn't bode well, if that's who he
is.
*****
You need to understand, Jonathon, that the world, as you know it,
doesn't exist. It's a fiction, an illusion humanity paints over its
eyes to prevent it from seeing all the horrors of what this place is.
You all forget the true glory from which you came. I suppose it's
because, in comparison, this place doesn't hold up. If hell is a cold
cinder, the earth is a lit match, and heaven, the place from which we
all sprung, is a supernova. You need to forget, or you'd just suffer
all the time. In forgetting what you are, though, you're losing
important evidence, and putting logic on the side of some great
nothingness. The best of you, the most talented, are the ones who get
damned.
I wonder who figured out how to make you all do it. I mean, I don't
think God would. He never let any of us be privy to his plans, and
he's not that much of a bastard.
Whoever it was probably got a promotion downstairs.
*****
The first time I saw him was just after the accident. He was
smallish, short, and unassuming. He seemed to be the most average
looking guy I'd ever seen. His clothes were strange, though. He wore a
white suit and a fedora. The cuff of the suit had a small stain on it.
It was red, like a little bit of blood had dripped on it. His eyes
were wierd, too. Cold and white. No iris, no pupils, not even any
veins. And I think they glowed a little. I don't know. He always wore
sunglasses after that, and I was kind of delirious. I had a nasty
concussion, after all.
He walked up to my parents car and looked inside. He seemed
irritated, like he was looking for something that wasn't there. In
retrospect, I think it was me. I think he took one look at me laying
on the pavement, and instantly assumed I wasn't his target. His
target, I suppose, wouldn't have been thrown a hundred feet and having
a head wound that was pouring blood. I'm kind of glad he went to the
car first. It inconvenienced him.
When he didn't find what he needed in the car, he walked back towards
me, cautiously, like I was a puppy he thought he would scare away. He
had put on his sunglasses by now, although I don't remember seeing him
do it. When he got over to me, he didn't even talk. He just looked at
me and smiled. He stared for five or six seconds, and then said "I'll
see you soon, friend. I've got a lot to teach you." Everything went
black. I woke up in the hospital after that.
The police said my parents hit a fire hydrant going really fast. I
was only reaching in the back for a second. I didn't see one, and
weren't going too fast, I don't think. Later he told me they were all
dead. I wrote off the man I saw, who later would introduce himself as
Samael, as a hallucination. The police said the person who called them
didn't see anyone else there. Strange.
My family is dead. Pretty much all of them. I'm sure I have an aunt
or an uncle who's still alive, but I don't really know any of them
particularly well, and in any case, they don't really matter. My
mother, my father, my brother and my sister are dead. The family I
knew and grew up with. It happened all at once, too quickly for me to
even comprehend it right then. It was in a car, and I was the only one
who survived. I was also the only one not wearing a seatbelt, and the
only one bending into the cargo area looking for something out of my
book bag. I was the only one who got thrown from the car. I was the
only one without a scratch on me. Well, I had some scratches on my
head, and they bled pretty bad, and a concussion, but no major damage.
Not even a skull fracture.
The doctors say I'm a miracle. I don't feel like a miracle. I have
nobody. My friends think I'm crazy. None of them talk to me anymore. I
live off of a life insurance policy that my father had. I feel like
kind of a hermit. My only friend is Sam. And he's kind of an asshole.
Plus, I don't really know whether or not he's real. He tells me not to
think of it. He tells me I should always start in the beginning. So I
guess I will.
It supposedly all began during World War I. Well, the pertinent stuff
did. A new kind of human evil occurred, and it started to tear a
hole. Apparently all that kind of shit does it, but the evil in that
war forced a permanent wedge, and let a lot of bad stuff start coming
through. Then the second war happened, and combined with the events
going on in Stalinist Russia, it was just too much. The hole became
impossible to close. All this evil kept on getting worse and worse.
Pol Pot and the Vietnam war, and all kinds of genocide on a massive
scale, all happening in short bursts, just kept making things worse.
Then I was born. Apparently I'm the key to something. I don't really
know. He tends to ramble a lot, and it's hard to get him to clarify
things. Plus he's kind of a bastard. I don't know. Sam is short for
Samael. He says he's a demon, but not of the classic variety. A double
agent, sort of. He's there to stop the onslaught, or to slow it any
way he can. I don't think he does a very good job. I don't really
think he's even trying too hard. Maybe all that time around real evil
has corrupted him, made him indiscernible from the genuine article. Or
maybe he's just always been rotten, but missed the fall. Or, maybe
he's been lying to me the whole time. I looked up the name. It says
he's the accuser in the old testament. He's the guy who tells God how
horrible humanity is. His presence doesn't bode well, if that's who he
is.
*****
You need to understand, Jonathon, that the world, as you know it,
doesn't exist. It's a fiction, an illusion humanity paints over its
eyes to prevent it from seeing all the horrors of what this place is.
You all forget the true glory from which you came. I suppose it's
because, in comparison, this place doesn't hold up. If hell is a cold
cinder, the earth is a lit match, and heaven, the place from which we
all sprung, is a supernova. You need to forget, or you'd just suffer
all the time. In forgetting what you are, though, you're losing
important evidence, and putting logic on the side of some great
nothingness. The best of you, the most talented, are the ones who get
damned.
I wonder who figured out how to make you all do it. I mean, I don't
think God would. He never let any of us be privy to his plans, and
he's not that much of a bastard.
Whoever it was probably got a promotion downstairs.
*****
The first time I saw him was just after the accident. He was
smallish, short, and unassuming. He seemed to be the most average
looking guy I'd ever seen. His clothes were strange, though. He wore a
white suit and a fedora. The cuff of the suit had a small stain on it.
It was red, like a little bit of blood had dripped on it. His eyes
were wierd, too. Cold and white. No iris, no pupils, not even any
veins. And I think they glowed a little. I don't know. He always wore
sunglasses after that, and I was kind of delirious. I had a nasty
concussion, after all.
He walked up to my parents car and looked inside. He seemed
irritated, like he was looking for something that wasn't there. In
retrospect, I think it was me. I think he took one look at me laying
on the pavement, and instantly assumed I wasn't his target. His
target, I suppose, wouldn't have been thrown a hundred feet and having
a head wound that was pouring blood. I'm kind of glad he went to the
car first. It inconvenienced him.
When he didn't find what he needed in the car, he walked back towards
me, cautiously, like I was a puppy he thought he would scare away. He
had put on his sunglasses by now, although I don't remember seeing him
do it. When he got over to me, he didn't even talk. He just looked at
me and smiled. He stared for five or six seconds, and then said "I'll
see you soon, friend. I've got a lot to teach you." Everything went
black. I woke up in the hospital after that.
The police said my parents hit a fire hydrant going really fast. I
was only reaching in the back for a second. I didn't see one, and
weren't going too fast, I don't think. Later he told me they were all
dead. I wrote off the man I saw, who later would introduce himself as
Samael, as a hallucination. The police said the person who called them
didn't see anyone else there. Strange.