Dawn of Doom (one-shot fantasy)

[speaker-to-trolls]

nspired by this thread http://bbs.stardestroyer.net/viewtopic. ... 3&start=25. I got the idea of writing down a way in which I might start a movie about judgement day.

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It begins in a place of light.

The place is not merely bright, it is made of light, the will of its owner forcing the photons to form pillars and balconies and walls, as solid as anything made of atoms.

A man steps forward, he is more beautiful than anyone should be, and he shines like a star. Six massive wings sit folded on his back. He walks soundlessly across the luminous floor of the great, impossible house, looks up at a seemingly empty balcony and says three words:

"It is time".

Suddenly the balcony is occupied, or suddenly it was never empty, in this place it is impossible to tell. Two figures stand there, the first is a young man, he has long black hair and a short beard, he is fairly handsome, but not remarkably so. All in all he is an unimpressive figure, less than five and a half feet tall and dressed in a clean but unremarkable white robe, only his eyes are worth noticing, they are depthless brown pools, wells of infinite sympathy. It seems as though you could tell him anything, no matter how terrible, and yet, if you asked forgiveness, he would give it without hesitation.

The other figure is his exact opposite. It is impossible to tell his size, but he is probably between six foot six and a thousand miles tall, he wears space-black robes that seem as if they could cover the entire universe. His face is precisely the opposite of his companions, it is stern and harsh as desert rock, a face designed to judge and to prosecute, in which two furious blue eyes burn with the intensity of giant stars. He radiates power, to stand in his presence is to know that you are nothing, an ant standing in the path of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, an insect to be crushed at his discretion.

"At last. Are my angels ready to enact the rapture?"
His voice is like thunder, like a volcano, like the silent roar of a solar flare given voice. It is a voice which could not be disobeyed.
"Yes, o Lord."

The Lord turns to his companion. "And you, my son, are you prepared to do what you must for me?"

For the merest fraction of a second an expression of doubt crosses the small, dark mans face. But then it is gone.

"Yes, my father, I am prepared".
"I see that this is good. You shall be the chief agent of my wrath, and scour that world of all who are loathesome in my sight". The Lord extends a finger "go forth, my son, go forth and do my will".

His son nods, there is a slight change in the nature of the light for a second, and then he stands there in brilliant purple robes, a crown on his head shining with the intensity of Venus itself, a sword in one hand, wreathed in blue flame. He turns, drops to the floor, and kisses his father's feet, "thy will be done, my father" he says, and then he is gone.

The Lord turns to the angel, now the only other occupant of the room. "There is still something of which you wish to inform me, Michael".

"Yes, o Lord. What is to be done about your... pet".
"Have faith, Michael, I have a plan for that creature, as I have a plan for all things".
The angel abases himself "of course, o Lord, I have total faith in you, o Lord, I pray for your forgiveness".
"I shall think upon it, Michael. Now, be gone."
"Thy will be done, o Lord."

The angel rises and walks out, shocked at his own actions, to doubt the Lord of Hosts, that is truly a great sin.

God watches him leave, then looks downward, the floor of his great house changes from pure, white luminescence to become an image of a small, blue green planet, utterly insignificant to anyone who does not know better. Soon its colours will change, it will turn red as his wrath descends upon the wicked peoples of the Earth.

A smile crosses his face "everything is proceeding exactly as I have forseen".