Smoke hung in the evening sky.
Puffy white vapors wafted from the hood of a car that had seen better days. Its
headlights lay behind a foggy layer of haze. A once fresh, brilliant coat of
paint was now weathered, faded and chipped at various places.
There was a silhouette within the
plume. Its form was that of a man, lanky, and dressed in droopy clothes. As he
emerged from the vehicular-generated cloud, a spindly arm was drawn across his
brow, rustling thick, brown bangs. This action smeared grease over his boyish
face. The black stain was heavily contrasted against pale skin, the shade of a
ghost.
He retreated from the hood of the
car, upon observing the plume beginning to dissipate. With a satisfied sigh, he
made his way to the diver-side window. Peering in, he gave a wide smile to the
occupant, a youthful woman with flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She
reciprocated, before turning the key to her car. A powerful roar emerged from
the automobile, clean and deep.
The hood was shut, for the car was
now fully operational. Peeking out of the driver’s side window, the girl shouted
out, “Thank you!”
He opened his mouth to respond.
Before he could utter anything, from addressing her gratitude, to perhaps
initiating conversation, the girl’s head retracted, and her eyes were consumed
by the smart phone obnoxiously held right in front of the steering wheel.
With a somber nod, the man began to
trod off. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he bore witness to a blanket of gray clouds.
It was a crushing backdrop to a line of brick-laden townhouses he ventured
past. The only break in monotony was a rather plain court and clearing. Within,
it lay host to a quaint, simple church, topped with an ominous bell tower. As
he stared up the gothic structure, the sky began to darken.
A blast of air from the nostrils of
the atmosphere nearly unseated his blue denim jacket, causing it to wave in the
wind. One of his hands flew to his head, attempting to settle his long, straight
hair. Teal eyes spotted another man approaching him, facing the immense gales
much in the same manner. He bore a ratty t-shirt that displayed a symbol of a
fish, one with small legs and feet growing out of it. Embedded upon the torso
of the abstract creature was large font that spelled out “Science”.
At this point, the sky had been
rendered completely black. What little light present was provided by streaks of
stark red. Everything, from the sidewalk, to the grass, to the townhouses to
the church was coated in a gruesome shade of blood.
The man approaching gasped, his
face, covered with thick glasses, twisted into an expression of absolute
horror. “Good Lord it’s the apocalypse,” he exclaimed.
After uttering this, he sprinted
towards the church.
The bell began to toll, compelled
by the winds that assailed it. The long-haired, youth-faced man remained rooted
into place, mesmerized by its sway. Thin lips parted ever so slightly, listless
and speechless, until one utterance of final resentment escaped.
“Even at the end of the world, I’m
dying alone.”
He, Macintosh Appleson, resigned
himself to fate.
…
From the inky atmosphere, a figure
emerged. Over the city skyline, it loomed over even the tallest skyscrapers.
Only an imposing silhouette could be discerned.
The anomaly was humanoid in shape.
Wider hips and an accentuated chest gave off a feminine appearance. Bulges
enhanced its arms, while the legs of the creature were substantial and stocky.
It was power given shape and form. From the leviathan’s back sprung four wings,
leathery and large, their combined wingspan nearly double the creature’s
length. The pair on top were twice the size of the pair below.
Billowing in the apocalyptic winds,
the creature’s magnificent spiked hair swung wildly, black as the rest of it,
arranged in a manner that resembled the rays of a lightless sun. Two malignant
glows, as crimson as the ominous glowing streaks in the sky, pierced through
the blackness. Irises they were, cast against black sclera, scanning the city-scape
below. They laid their enormous gaze upon the terrified, fleeing throngs of
civilians. From her position up above, the populace would appear as ants
scuttling in vain for sanctuary in fragile boxes of steel.
Feet, as human as the rest, save
for their charcoal-gray exterior and sharp, talon-like nails, sunk into the
adjacent lake. Puny vessels, whether they be speedboats, luxurious yachts, or
bulky cargo ships, fled the monolithic appendages, each utterly outclassed. One
particular speedboat flew too close, but managed to avoid disaster, the hull of
the boat scraping against a massive toe, the prime digit of the bunch. Despite
the creature’s skin taking on a shade as dark as the night, the vessel’s pilot
could still perceive ridges etched in the toe, much like his own.
To all nearby, their minds began to
succumb to her presence. Those closest, within the lake, and at docks, began to
clutch their heads and scream wildly. Further away, catastrophe was dampened,
yet still present, as men, woman and children collapsed, faint from the
domineering aura their feeble psyches could not resist. Even for residences who
could not manage a glimpse of the creature, could feel their shoulders weight
down and eyes droop.
While the mayor’s office lay far
from the center of town, and even further from the coastline, all those who
held power were captured. Sweaty palms grew pale as they gripped the edges of
their richly upholstered seats. Furrowed brows were coated in stressful
precipitate. Several officials stood at attention in the clearing, before the
mayor’s desk. Their neatly pressed black pants were trembling, while proud
broad shoulders sagged much like the rest.
The mayor himself, a middle aged
man that sported a full mane of gray-speckled black hair, was currently leaning
over his polished wooden desk. Shaking hands were clasped together, braced
against the surface. They were the only things keeping him upright.
Right next to him was a man with
younger features. He required no such support to remain standing, yet the
presence of the creature still weighed upon him. Through round spectacles, he
gazed down upon his burdened leader.
Like a spark in a dry area of the
woods, the mayor sprung. He leaned back, screaming his throat out. Curdling
shouts pierced and disturbed all who resided in the room. His clammy hands took
hold of his face, as if at any moment, his jaw would drop off, his eyes would
pop out and his skull would split in two.
Within his head, a low, yet
feminine voice rang, cold as the emptiest pits of space, searing with the
cadence of the bluest stars. “Are you the one who commands this city?”
Attempting to regain some form of dignity,
the Mayor stood upright, pulling down the flaps of his navy blue suit jacket.
“I’m – I’m just the mayor, oh God!”
The voice continued, “Prescience
has led me to your planet. I am here to collect that what was promised to me,
eons before your species were exalted over their kin.”
His trembling tone reached pitches
he never thought in his repertoire, “T-take whatever you need, I’m in no
position to-”
“A name has been given form.”
interjected the creature, “I am looking for one called Appleson. I can sense
him, but precisely where he lays, I know not. Your resources will be most
helpful.”
The mayor furiously nodded,
“A-anything!”
His arm extended, ending with the
snap of his fingers. The advisor pushed up his glasses as his superior rambled
to him, “Search Appleson, appleson. I want police records, mailing addresses,
anything!”
“And give up whoever it is to this
… thing?” the upright man objected.
“It’s him,” the Mayor declared,
pounding his fist upon his desk, “Or us! Not to mention humanity itself!”
It was the advisor’s turn to shake
his head, barely even nudging his slick, combed-back hair, “Want me to fashion
for him a cross and a crown of thorns so we can sacrifice this innocent soul to
save us all?”
“We’ll make a religion out of him
as a consolation!” growled the mayor.
Beady eyes narrowed, before the
advisor relented. In his arms lay a tablet. His fingers began racing across it,
pulling up several windows of information for him to digest. The atmosphere of
the mayoral office had concentrated, to the point where a knife could make a
clean cut through unoccupied air.
Luckily, none had to ponder the
agonizing silence for long, for the advisor shouted, “Found him! Lucky for us,
only one Appleson in town! 23 years old. His apartment is on the northeast
sector, where all the bars are. He isn’t married.”
“He works for a motor repair shop
on Main Street.”
The imposing voice could be heard
by all. Legs bent and gave out. Men covered their ears and groaned. Women
screamed in despair.
Even the stoic advisor could not
resist, “Oh dear Lord! How are you-”
“-I merely needed a reference, to
find him within the great chorus of Terra. You have been most helpful, I shall
now collect.”
...
Even though Macintosh resided near
the outskirts of the city, the image of the invader still loomed over, massive
as ever. Her stocky, bulging thighs were partially obscured by the bell tower.
Traces of blood-stained illumination highlighted the various bulges of muscle
that adorned her, from her toned biceps and shoulders, to the curves of a chest
whose size he could only imagine. Just below her massive mammaries lay neatly
arrayed ridges of abdominals. Faint rays of light emphasized the definition of
her stomach, sculpted in a manner that put to shame the finest of Renaissance
artists.
While this creature’s skin was of a
dark shade, long streaks of glowing crimson raced across her flesh. They were
faintly visible, were within perception if Macintosh but squinted his eyes.
These streaks in many ways resembled veins, pulsing and fading in a steady
rhythm.
His breath left him once his gaze
settled upon her face. The behemoth’s features were barely visible in the dark
light, but they composed that of a young woman. He speculated that if it were
not for such an ominous color scheme and colossal stature, she would have
certainly caught the eye of any man who coveted such a beauty.
Macintosh shook his head in
disapproval. Of course, it’s the end of the world, and this is all I’m
thinking about, there’s more important things in life to hold on to.
Still, as he remained transfixed upon
her glowing, crimson gaze, he could not help but get the impression that the
luminous irises were exclusively focused upon him.
“No way she’s looking here,” he
dismissed under his breath, “I have to be like a grain of sand to her.”
“A more appropriate reference would
be to that which you call ants.”
A crawling sensation made its way
up his spine. Even so, despite the quaking ground and howling winds, there was
warmth that began to spread within his cheeks.
He heard a rumble, then a silent
chorus of screams. The creature was moving, as one of her mighty, olympian arms
began to stretch out. Macintosh’s mouth hung open. Though she lay miles away,
there was no doubt that she was reaching for him.
Macintosh’s body was yanked from
the ground. Air exited his gullet as he was pulled. Wind whipped through his
hair, flailing it wildly. Nothing of hers touched him, yet he knew it was her
will that compelled him so. He flayed his arms and legs, instinct provoking him
to provide some sort of resistance. But, against this unstoppable force, he was
no unmovable object.
As the dark shadow of her
outstretched hand drew ever closer, he let out a scream.
Larger and larger her hand loomed.
He began to catch the darkened etches of lines and folds within her expansive palm.
These immense details expanded further and stretched beyond comprehension.
Macintosh passed under her fingers, looming structures in their own right. Up
above, he gawked, for he wondered if he would even be detected as a speck upon
the tips of one of her digits.
There was a certain odor of her he
could detect. It was like that of fire and ash. The smell of burning coal
entered his nose, and he uttered a cough.
Soon, he was slammed against her
skin. It was tough and taut. The membrane barely even shuddered as his puny
mass impacted it. Yet, it was also smooth, inhumanly so.
She turned her palm upright. He was
stuck to the surface by her will, yet momentum compelled dizziness assaulted
his senses. The world itself was turning. Rapid breath strained his throat, as
he felt the terrain orient itself into something he could stand on without
falling off.
Finally, after a turbulent journey,
everything had come to rest.
He heard a new sound, one both
familiar and alien all at once. It possessed a tempo, a tempo that matched the
rate of his breath. Macintosh felt himself compelled forward and back, but this
was not the transient psychic force that had grabbed him earlier. No, this was
accompanied by gales that tossed his hair and rendered his skin wrought with
goosebumps.
The force that he was subject to
was her own breathing.
It smelled more of the same, that
of intense char, as if her maw was an abyss to the depths of hell itself.
Macintosh dared to face the hurricane, and immediately resisted the desire to
empty his bowels. Before him loomed her face, larger than many buildings. Each
detail, while hampered by darkness, was no doubt present and visible to him.
From her full, slightly parted lips that could swallow an entire block, to a
towering nose that required him to crane his neck just to conceive of its
length, to two piercing, overwhelming eyes that burned with the intensity of
stars, the creature’s face was the very picture of armageddon. It was
frightening, yet enticing, full of destructive potential that made his skin
crawl, yet filled with enough beauty and symmetry, he could remain hypnotized
for hours.
The crimson streaks that ran across
her body, were also strewn over her face. Their pulsating glow appeared to
hasten, as well as her breathing. Upon the cheek area, where they were concentrated,
the red upon them appeared to intensify. The surrounding atmosphere had been clogged,
given tangible mass.
Her lips, dark as the rest of her,
hung parted. Like lumbering lizards that preceded man, they moved. And, from
the depths that lay beyond, a voice rumbled forth.
“I anticipated this event most
explicitly for 20 thousand of your years,” she declared, every syllable ramming
into Macintosh with the force of a locomotive, “You, who are to be the provider
of vitality so I may bear children.”
Macintosh could only stammer in
response, his mind thick with implication, “wha- wha- wha-. Wait! Slow down!
Children?”
An exhale blasted him, lifting the
frail, young man off his feet, before sending him sprawling across the vast
terrain of palm. The creature’s voice had begun to rise in pitch, as flustered
tones snuck through her imposing cadence, “Fate indeed has marked you! I have
suppressed my presence, but still, you are not losing consciousness at such
close proximity! Your face, which has occupied my mindspace for eons, is even
more aesthetically pleasing in the flesh!”
“What are you-“ he babbled. “I-“
The world had begun to move once
more. Sheer momentum pinned him on his back, not even allowing his arms to rise.
Beyond the horizon of her hand, he witnessed the dark plush form of her lips
grow ever closer.
He gazed into the void beyond, taking
the form of a mouth that could swallow several two-story houses. Within, he
witnessed the only part of her that was not of a dark shade. In a neat array
lay pearly white teeth, arranged in the same manner as any of his fellow men.
One frightening difference, however, were the upper canines were longer and
sharper than average, much like that of a vampire. As he peered further into
the abyss, he caught a smoldering red glow that resided within the back of her
throat. What powered such a sight, Macintosh could only speculate.
The great black destroyers closed,
puffed and puckered. He felt the plain of her palm tilt forward, though he
remained firmly glued to his position, not sliding down even an inch. Heavy
breath washed over him, bathing his form in moist, hot, charcoal-stained air.
Prowling just behind her towering teeth, slithered a dark red tongue, more
narrowed and pointed in comparison to what he was familiar with.
Despite all this, for some strange
reason, Macintosh felt the hem of his jeans tighten. He dared not dwell on
exactly why.
Soon enough, he could count the
individual folds and bumps that lined the creature’s lips. Wind ceased, and
darkness swallowed his vision as he was pressed into their surface. Her flesh
was surprisingly tender, and it engulfed the entirety of his body. A low,
thundering moan shook every cell that composed his being. He noticed the same
sound exited his own mouth as he was smothered against her colossal kiss.
Macintosh’s heart had accelerated
into a frenzy.
Her palm relented, pulling away.
However, he remained stuck, adhered by a thin film of saliva. The young man
turned his head to and fro, gawking at the terrain of flesh that surrounded
him. He knew where he lay, yet it proved difficult to peer beyond the surface
of her lips.
A howling exhale released him. He
was tossed through the air once more, before smacking back into her palm.
Black clouds billowed and expanded.
The waters surrounding her grew turbulent, as vessels great and small struggled
against the waves by her feet. In mere moments, she was swallowed by the
miasma. It soon dispersed, leaving no trace of the creature.
Up above the atmosphere, where
countless stars lay crystal clear, while the soft curve of the Earth glowed
below, inky black clouds and flashes of red emerged. They expanded and writhed,
until the dark form of the creature materialized, carrying her prize. Giddy,
glowing eyes gazed upon her beloved speck. What rare, powerful substance flowed
through her, raced ever faster, while the beating of her chest could have
awakened the entire Milky Way.
The most adorable human squirmed in
her hand, before squeaking out in dulcet harmony, “S-space? I can’t survi- How
am I breathing?”
A smile formed upon her lips, “Worry
not, I have tasted of your planet’s atmosphere, and can replicate its exact
composition and pressure.”
Her luminous crimson orbs caught
him rubbing the back of his head, ruffling lovely locks of brown hair.
“That’s pretty neat, you’ve got a
lot of nifty tricks up your … uh … wings I suppose?”
There was a compelling desire to
mash this magnificent creature against her lips once more. Even more so, she
had to hold back an uncharacteristic high pitched squeal.
Macintosh was growing dizzy. While
the domineering presence of the creature certainly did not help, turning around
and surveying his surroundings had disturbed his orientation. Yet, the soft
teal glow of Earth’s atmosphere, accompanied by the eternal twinkling of
countless stars had hypnotized him.
Eventually, he had to settle his
wonder, and halt his curiosity, for one thought dominated his mind and his
vision. He gazed into her brilliant irises, inquiring, “You, you brought me up
here for a reason, haven’t you? What’s all this about? You said some strange
things back there.”
“Forgive me for my hastiness,” she
apologized, her lips forming into a small pout, “I have been rife with
anticipation. It has been ordained that you were to be my … hmm, your terms
escape me … friend?”
Her massive face adopted a
contemplative posture, as she continued, “No, insufficient. Companion? Closer.
Oh! Indeed, you are to be what is known to your kind as “husband”, and
“father”. Time and space have spoken this to me. Yet, even their grandiose
gestures do not compare to just … bearing witness.”
Macintosh had frozen solid.
“Husband?” he blurted out,
"But, we don’t even know each other!”
“I know much about you,” she
replied, “Although I have not properly introduced myself.”
Her eyes narrowed, while the tone
of her voice darkened, even threatening to swallow the black void of space
itself, “I have been called many names, but the one I answer to is Sathanastia.
I travel the stars as a destroyer, annihilating planets, stars and
civilizations, before consuming the remains. It is my role, so that the
universe may not be overgrown and overcrowded.”
There was a pause. A cautious voice
then exited from the puny speck in her palm, “Are … are you doing this to
humanity? Please … I”
A low chuckle made it past her
lips, “It is wondrous that you defend your species with such vigor. But, no, it
is not time for Terra to face oblivion. Your species still has a grand destiny
to play out before it is to be judged. I do not destroy life, unless I have
been ordered to.”
Macintosh let out a nervous laugh,
“Well thank goodness for that!”
Once the echo of her voice
dissipated, silence reigned. It was a true silence, for no ambience of racing
cars, distant chatting or chirping birds could fill the space. Space itself
absorbed all noise. Only the steady pattern of Sathanastia’s breathing was
present.
Her lips parted once more, as if
she were to speak again. Yet, a voice did not emerge, instead, out came her
teeth. They clenched the skin of her bottom lip. Her eyelids drew downwards, partially
eclipsing her eyes. Macintosh desired to look away, as the red streaks in her
cheeks burned ever hotter. Even better, he wanted to fly, fly through the
atmosphere and land home, for her desire had become plain.
Finally, she spoke, but her majestic
drawl was tempered by a slight stutter. “If” she began, “If you are put off by
… me, which I understand, I shall not disturb your civilization again.”
Her luminous orbs averted their
gaze. Sathanastia’s face was that of bashful hesitance. A steady quake
challenged his already precarious sense of orientation. But, it was not he who
was trembling.
His eyes widened, and his breath
departed. Realization finally dawned across his face. Macintosh’s mind had been
made dim by the journey, but now, now all that he saw was rendered in crystal
clarity.
“You’re really serious about this?
You want … me? That’s why you came?”
He was tossed about, as her hand
moved once more. This time, her palm trapped him against her cheek. The young
man was pressed most intimately near one of her exposed, glowing veins, a
structure that was as wide as a neighborhood street. Burning, pulsating warmth
overwhelmed him, while her voice boomed in the distance, “Oh Macintosh
Appleson!” she shouted, “I wish to whisk you away into the veil of stars and
reveal the depths of my passion to you!”
Before she got carried away, he was
pulled from her cheek. Her other hand quickly covered up her mouth, as if the
gesture would save her from embarrassment.
Chattering teeth and stammering
tone marred his response, “Maybe we … I dunno … uh … think of … ah… marriage.”
The creature had managed to recompose
herself, although her cheeks retained their enhanced luminance, “I shall
observe the necessary Terran traditions and rituals so that I may make you my
husband. You are willing, are you?”
“Well gosh,” he exclaimed,
gathering himself up once more, “It’s a lot to take in, and you’re, well,
you’re pretty in a sense …”
He fought to maintain composure,
for he could hear the smallest of squeals escape the apocalyptic entity.
“We’d need to meet my parents,” he
continued, “I think my Dad might be okay with you, heck, he might be happy that
I finally got a girl. Mom on the other hand …”
Sathanastia narrowed her eyes,
“’Mom’, there is a peculiar inflection in which you say that word. As if there
are powers hidden from my sight that I must be aware of from this ‘Mom’.”
Macintosh nodded, “Yeah … my Mom
can be pretty scary.”
“I shall tread with great caution
around her.”
There was no sense of duplicity,
nor comedy, as she said this. Of course,
it doesn’t matter how much this gal can blow up, once Mom blows up over her,
it’s game over.
But, for all his anticipation,
there was one issue that had held him back. “You, Sathanusi- Sathanastia, huh,
that rolls off the tongue real nicely.”
He heard a giggle, “It is good you
have found it so.”
The young man pressed on, “Why me?
I know you got some premonition, but I think, especially to a real
extraordinary lady like you, I’m just some disappointment. I’m a speck on your
finger for goodness sake! And even if you’re just set on some human, I’m the
bottom of the barrel! Girls back home wouldn’t even-“
“Humility is a most enticing
virtue, one that you possess in excess,” she interjected, “Although it can
distort one’s view of their own self-worth if left unchecked.”
His head hung low, “I think I got
the gist of what you’re saying.”
Black lips spread into a smile that
stretched on for eternity. “Worry not, there are worse aspects to possess in
excess.”
Macintosh felt his breath then
shorten. His sight dimmed, while his very consciousness appeared to float away.
Sathanastia’s smile disappeared as a result.
“It appears I’m unable to maintain
your atmosphere for long. This will be farewell for now. But remember my
beloved Macintosh …”
Black miasma consumed his form. He
felt himself transported. Streaks of black and red rushed past him. It was as
if he was both flying, and falling with style. Soon enough, before him was the
bell tower. Below his feet lay not flesh, but asphalt. The sky had resumed its
gray overcast shade.
Macintosh gazed around, shaking his
head, considering for a minute, that he had been caught in some sort of dream.
But, from the sky, like a bolt of
lightning, Sathanasia’s voice struck.
“…I shall love you for all
eternity.”