New Earth

No one noticed when the old gods returned. The Earth rotated, the sun rose, Lucy cooed in her crib. Kira woke, drowsy eyed, and began brewing her morning coffee. She stretched in the cool summer morning air, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “Monday” she sighed. Thoughts of getting the baby ready for daycare, phone calls, meetings, groceries, and laundry flooded her head. She paused for a moment, snuffing out the cigarette. Something was off. She looked around her back yard, at the fence covered in ivy, the overflowing garbage can in the alley, the grass a week overdue for mowing. A cry echoed from the nursery. She turned and headed inside to start the day, leaving the backyard abandoned, not noticing the profound silence. Two thousand eyes watched her go from the pine trees above. A thousand birds perched, observing, not making a sound at all. No, no person noticed when the old gods retuned, but the animals, they knew.

By Wednesday the news was flooded with reports of mysterious deaths. Hundreds of thousands of people found dead in their beds. Every time the sun rose, a new number was reported. Forty thousand in the US Tuesday, Eighty thousand in Hong Kong by noon. Their still, lifeless bodies resting peacefully in their jammies and bunny slippers. There was no blood, no struggle, no notice. It came in the night as silent as the darkness itself. Kira sipped her morning coffee, the reports droning on in the background as she pulled her long brown hair into a braid. Her husband Rico rubbed her shoulders, and reached over her to grasp the remote. He clicked the T.V off, and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her cheek, then leaned down and kissed the top of Lucy’s head who was perched cooing in Kira’s lap. She watched him leave for work, and sat in silence. Utter silence.

Friday. Kira sat with her feet dangling off the roof of her single-story home. The bottle of Jack Daniels nearly empty, the sun drooping down over the mountains to the west. The sky plunged into a deep golden red illuminated by smoke of a million fires. She watched the shadows of the homes to her left stretch down the empty avenue past lawn after perfectly trimmed lawn. She wiped the tears away from her stinging eyes, and coughed as the smoke filled her lungs. The rage boiled. Rage like lava gurgling up from her stomach, a burning, corroding explosion pressurizing the walls of her ribcage. She screamed, hurling the nearly empty bottle into the street. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the neighborhood. Sound waves bouncing off of still houses abandoned cars. Her bloodshot eyes darted from doorway to bloodstained doorway. Each one painted over roughly with the blood of a lamb. The people had panicked, turning to the bible for hope as humans always had for centuries. The believers desperately slaughtering lambs, sheep, goats, even their own pets, in an act of utter desperation to save their families from this silent killer. Kira half chuckled/half sobbed. “Lot of good it did ya.” She looked down slowly at the smooth metal clutched in her left fist. Her body shook as she choked out another sob. The silver glowed red, reflecting the firelit skyline. A small, rounded, heart-shaped locket with mother-of-pearl inlay dangled from a silvery chain. A gift from her husband. Her hands trembled and she gritted her teeth, looking to the sky and screamed.

The following Tuesday was meditation day. Kira watched her bare toes comb through soft, cool grass. The smell of crisp mountain air and clean linen filling her senses. She looked around at the green, lush forested park, trees blooming with vibrant white blossoms, snowing down into the grass with each gentle breeze. Her perfectly pressed white robes fluttered effortlessly into the wind in the direction of the lake, where at least a dozen adults sat beside the water in motionless mediation. Each one, in perfect calm stillness, their shaven heads gleaming in the soft sunlight. It had been five days since the Old Gods had taken the Chosen to New Earth. She looked towards the sky at the three gleaming suns, each a different shade of yellow. This planet was not unlike the old one. It had mountains and rivers and oceans. It was teaming with wildlife no different than Earth’s. It rained and snowed, and the days and nights would come at regular intervals as the planet rotated along its path, millions of lightyears away from the home Kira knew. Her head dropped back down to the ground. The one thing this New Earth did not have, however, was hate. To the Old Gods, hate was an infection. A mistake in the genetic code of the Earth. It did not exist on any other planet or plane. The goal then, was to take a select few from old Earth, purge the hate, and start anew here, in this new Eden.

The Old Gods, as they called themselves, had been the creators of Earth. People for millennia had debated on the concept of an all-powerful creator, and they hadn’t been that far off. However, neither was Darwin. The Old Gods didn’t create the universe, only the Milky Way and her heavenly bodies. They had carefully designed each planet to house a certain type of life, planted that life, and watched from afar as it flourished and evolved. Life did not survive on any other planet, only Earth. As Humans evolved and progressed toward success, the Old Gods watched in anticipation for the day the Humans would join them as an advanced culture. Anyone can imagine their disappointment when Humans began to regress. De-evolution was not unknown to the Old Gods. They had seen it before with the rise and fall of Atlantis. The Old Gods had decided it was time to abandon their experiment, and empty the “Parasitic species” from their terrarium. Kira knew this, as all other Chosen knew this. It was never told, more like downloaded into the brains of the Chosen as they all arrived to New Earth. Some of the Chosen believed the Old Ones to be Aliens. Advanced creatures from another plane. Some believed they are angels, divine and all knowing. Neither of these thoughts are far from the truth, but Kira held fast to the one thing she knew that none of the other Chosen did.

The Old Gods were not perfect. Hate was not a mistake in genetic coding, it was a learned behavior. A result of unforgivable action and immense pain. The other Chosen may have forgotten, purged the pain from their minds, But Kira didn’t. Kira knew anger held a purpose. To grant the strength to right the injustices caused by others. She held the silver locket in her palm, ran her fingertips over the small silver clasp. She peered up at the monstrous gleaming pyre that the Old Gods called home, then back down at the small heart in her hand. She gently closed her eyes, the sweet melodic coos and laughter of her daughter, the gentle caress and tickle of her husband’s rough moustache on her cheekbone. The memories rang through her mind as tears dripped off her chin. She fiddled with the clasp, clicking the locket open and extending out her hand to empty its contents. The ashes whipped and fluttered away in the wind, a stream of grey and black like pepper down the drain. The last bit of her husband and daughter, cremated after being found curled together in their bed. Kira Dropped the locket, Letting the hunk of metal sink into the tall grass.

She reached down, grasping the handle of a handmade wooden club, roughly clumped together with sharp rocks and gouged out teeth and bones. The blunt end still bleeding from an unlucky Chosen who happened upon Kira alone in the woods making it. Kira dragged the heavy club behind her, and started toward the Pyre. She glared up at this pulsating monolith, jetting out from the garden. She smiled, because she knew one thing the other chosen did not know.

The Old Gods, are mortal.