At sunset, our squad took the rebel bunker, shouting, "Death to the free traders! Death to the free believers!"
Y[or]r!k ad-hoced into their network and sliced the autoturrets. La Mujer Terrible offered up her left thumb, summoning the [REDACTED] to crush the pillbox's polycrete dome. I chewed a Diazepam and steadied the Barrett. No target priority in the fading light. Kill them all.
From the ruin, a sobbing voice rose: "Utinam dirumperes caelos et descenderes!"
And a voice from everywhere answered, "H̷͖̄Ö̴͈Ẅ̷̲́ ̷̩́P̶̱̀Ŕ̴̮E̶̳͝C̵͚̚I̵̊ͅO̸͈̓Ư̵͓S̴͕̒ ̸̪̑T̴̰́Ó̷̠ ̶̜̈́M̵̼̓E̴̪̒ ̸͇̃Ä̶̰́Ṟ̵̐E̵̜͛ ̸͎̓Ỳ̷̫O̸͈̍Ṷ̴̎R̴͕̃ ̶̬͑D̸͎͠E̸͚͘Ã̵͎T̸̤͛H̷̳͐S̵̗͗."
The sun went.
An unseen eye opened.
And it fixed upon us.
Creeeeeepy! As usual, Loren, your writing inspires me to up my own writing game and hopefully reach somewhere near your level. Merry Christmas, my friend!
ReplyDeletePatrick: You are too kind. This one owes a bit of inspiration to (believe it or not) the final few episodes of "Chainsaw Man." I'm not a big anime fan, but that season had some really wild moments.
ReplyDeleteToday's Daily Office reading included Revelation 7. We need more apocalyptic angels waiting to harm the earth and the sea and the trees at advent!
ReplyDeleteI thought you might get what was going on. The significance of the date in the title, too.
ReplyDeleteThe sun 'went'. Went. That verb choice is absolutely chef's kiss.
ReplyDeleteThe whole story is great, but 'went' is the part that is going to stay with me a while, I think.
You are too kind, Rhonda. That's my favorite part of this little piece, too.
ReplyDelete