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Soul Chroniclers

when our legacies are in the pages of a book

By KM VarillaPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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There was a time when people didn’t see us. We just happened to them. One time they were breathing; at other times, they gasped for air until their lungs no longer had it. Life happened to people; so did we.

It was interesting how the image of us had been tainted. Life was portrayed by the sunrise, and yet rarely were we identified as the beautiful sunset. Instead, we were the dark being, dreaded and feared. We had many names, and we had many stories, but that had all changed in the process of The End.

Near The End, they had begun to call us the Soul Chroniclers because we had made our true images known. With a shadow always covering our human-like face except for one of our eyes, part of our nose and our lips; with clothes made up of dark mist, outlining the silhouettes of our legs, our bodies, our arms and neck as we move, covering our bodies almost completely except for our hands and what our hands held: a book, not of Life but its antithesis.

Near The End, they began to have an estimate on how many we were: three hundred thousand Soul Chroniclers. It was more than what most cultures believed. Most of them thought that we were of one person, not a crowd. But because we had made ourselves known, because they had seen us collect people’s stories in the books that we carry, and, yes, because of social media and connectivity of the globe; they noticed that every day since The End began, three hundred thousand people’s souls disappear from Earth.

It was not as if they were fully surprised to see us. Months before they discovered us, a doctor posted on Twitter “No babies born” with a photo of the newborn nursery having empty baby beds. He didn’t think much of it at first but then somebody posted a comment “What hospital is that? We don’t have babies here too.” That could had been a coincidence but in less than an hour, there were more than five hundred similar comments. In less than twenty-four hours, the phenomenon hit the news: “Confirmed. Globally, there are no more babies being born.”

It took a few days of no babies when they realised that The End had begun. Mathematicians, would-be mathematicians, and fake mathematicians began uploading YouTube videos explaining when the last human will fall. There were many assumptions made, for example, on disease, accidents, old age, etc. The videos were garnering millions of views until somebody realised that he wasn’t dying.

The man was in his fifties, terminally ill with stage four cancer. His insides were a mess, but his pain had stopped. When his doctors checked on him, he couldn’t help but notice their faces – painted with amazement, perhaps wondering how he wasn’t feeling anything nor how he was alive. The world then realised that he wasn’t alone. Nobody was dying. News headlines were “No deaths”, “Are We going To Live Forever?”, “Is this Damnation or Paradise?”

As expected, there were people who tried to fight the unexplained. They jumped over bridges and buildings. They ended up with broken legs, broken necks, or broken spines. Some of them became vegetables but they were still alive despite the absence of any life support. Fortunately, they weren’t experiencing any pain.

So, then we came, and they called us Soul Chroniclers. Since we weren’t hiding anymore, they were able to take videos of us as we visit a family member, a friend, or even the stranger near them. Once there were four hundred thousand babies being born per day and that turned to zero. Once there were only estimates of the number of deaths per day and that turned to a definite three hundred thousand deaths per day --- all with only one cause of death: taken by Soul Chroniclers. We come with our books and suck the stories out of them until they become a few pages; their bodies wither lifeless on the ground.

In a few months’ time, the people had discovered that we too had different personalities although they mostly judge by how tall or short we were; by how long we linger after we take a soul; by our eyes, by the looks of the book that we carry; and by the accessory they see on us. The accessories become visible amidst the mist that cover us. Whereas others had earrings, toys, or hats among other things, I wore a heart-shaped locket on my neck.

fantasy
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About the Creator

KM Varilla

Hello Everyone. Three things I'm into: writing, analysis, and technology. I'm always trying to figure out things but I'm the type of person who accepts that i can't possibly know everything.

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