The Rift

The Rift

Introduction

Something happened in the small town of Castille that caused incredible things, some beautiful and some terrifying, to occur every night. From the time when light left the valley to the time that it returned, the people in the town were able to manifest whatever came to their imagination - good or bad and without control. My name is Marcus Grey. I went to the town and witnessed the incredible events and, during the day, asked people to write and draw some of their stories in journals. If they were unable, I would write for them.

For fear that the manifestations would spread to others or that they would manifest in some big city, the government forced the people of the town to remain there and no one was allowed in or out in an effort to limit the effects of divinations. However, I was willing to go and eventually I was allowed so that there could be research and documentation of what was happening. By some unknowable reason, I did not acquire this potential to manifest even though I was there - for good or bad, I don't know because I learned the truly terrifying and evil things that could be imagined, but also the beautiful and inspiring. I'm not sure what I would create, just as no one in the town did. I hoped to understand what happened by studying various accounts from those willing to share their remarkable dreams. And in the event that this ever occurs elsewhere, perhaps we could learn from what happened and possibly avoid their fate.

A reasonable place to start is with the priest. Understand that I write each story from their perspective, as they told me, and in the form of these stories.

The Priest

I remember the day before it happened. In church, in front of the marble altar, I was wearing white and gold robes that day. I remember my robes being painted in colors - faded red, orange and purple squares and triangles which were projected from a stained-glass window portraying the Virgin Mary.

I ended the mass that day, stretching out my hands and saying, “Mass has ended. Go now in peace and love,” like every other Sunday.

And everyone accepted my words, as they always did, with a final sign of the cross. Everyone opened their eyes and began to leave.

The small church was the only one in the small town. With a population of 172 people, one church was all they needed. Regardless of the size, the architect and the men who built the church paid close attention to the details, including several elaborate carvings and statues in the structure. It was a classic small church, white and with a steeple.

A woman approached me and said, “Father Reed, thank you for that sermon today. It was comforting. The news has had everyone worried, but as you said, people seem to just create these ideas and exaggerate them as a way of getting attention.”

I smiled graciously and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Crowley. I’m glad that you enjoyed the mass today. The day has passed without a catastrophe once again and I’m sure several people will already begin fearing the next so-called date for Armageddon. Many people fear the end, but what good does the fear do them? We must trust in our faith. The Bible says, “We will not know when the end approaches.” So, we should live without worrying about it. I’m happy that this life will go on and we can continue to serve the Lord.”

“Oh, yes. Me too. I need to stop watching all that silly news. It does me no good,” said Mrs. Crowley.

I laughed and said, “Well, it’s not all bad. There is some useful information as well. We all just need to learn to see what matters and what doesn’t.” I smiled and went on, “I better get going and close things up before it gets too late. You have a good night, ok? I’ll see you next time.”

I remember the conversation well because it was my last before everything changed.

I went through the routine for closing the church and walked home. It was about half a mile to the home. The walk, which was along a dirt path in a grassy field, gave me some time to reflect and relax before ending the day. The home was in a secluded area, near an old oak forest at the outskirts of the town. The home was created for whoever the current priest of the church was. It was a simple single-story home with a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room; very nice for a priest.

I arrived home as the sun dropped below the horizon and the sky became dark blue in the west, grey in the space above, and a light orange in the east.

I prepared a simple dinner for myself. I read through the newspaper that highlighted some of the fanatical events of the day and thought, “Why do people gravitate to these ideas of Armageddon? They consume themselves in a thing they can’t alter and then, crush any future they may have had if their prophecy was wrong. Revelations points to a time of the Anti-Christ and a time of suffering, but none of it is very clear. It is the word of the Lord that these times will pass and a new world would be created. Why should we fear these things? We must be humble and accept what we cannot change.”

The news detailed the massive gatherings, riots, and suicides of the day. It described the people who were disappointed, who wanted to see the world come to an end and see their prophecies fulfilled. Maybe everyone wants to know, without a doubt, that they are a part of something bigger; that Earth is important, not some mere coincidence. Maybe every time it didn’t happen, it was a disappointment because they were still in the dark, seemingly alone and uncertain of what this universe had in store for them. It was all inconsequential.

I cleaned up after eating, after reflecting, and prepared for the night. I said the rosary before lying down on my bed in my simple room. A window on the western wall had a view of the forest behind the house. As always, I closed the shades of the window and pulled the curtains across. On the eastern wall, a cross hung over a small bench where I kneeled for prayers. The bed was placed in the center of the southern wall with a nightstand and a light next to it.

I turned off the light, closed my eyes and focused on nothing, clearing my mind for the dreams to come.

I fell into sleep.

*****

He stirred in his bed and slowly opened his eyes again. His body told him to wake up – telling him that he was thirsty.

After blinking and rubbing his eyes, he could see the clock, which read 3:03 AM.

The priest let his body take over. He left the bed and headed for the kitchen, but as he stepped out of his room, he heard a strange noise like someone taking a breath. The breath grew and filled the house, groaning with a bass that shook the glass windows.

Startled, Father Reed said, “What’s that?”

It stopped and the house was quite again, but Father Reed was still alarmed.

“It must be windy outside,” said the priest. He didn’t know what to think other than he must’ve half dreamed it. So, he drank a glass of water and headed back to bed – calming himself and clearing his mind.

But, again, he stirred.

He opened his eyes to the clock and saw the glowing red numbers, 3:33 AM.

“Why can't I sleep?” he said to himself, frustrated.

BANG - a loud crash, like the thunder from a dangerously close lightning strike, shook the house.

Father Reed jumped out of bed and stood for a moment. He turned on his light and surveyed the room with his eyes. Everything in his room looked fine. Nothing had jolted out of place. He slowly walked to the window as his heart began to beat faster.

He opened the curtain and looked through the blinds. BANG - the noise crashed again and he jumped away from the window.

“Must be a thunderstorm,” he said. He was uncertain though because the sky was clear throughout the day and the news didn’t warn of any coming storm.

He approached the window again.

Dividing the blinds, he looked into the darkness beyond his house, but there was nothing visible. He stared a moment longer and as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he began to see the outline of the trees and a strange figure.

Suddenly, a pair of red eyes flashed open and focused their glare on the small window - burning as they stared at Father Reed.

Father Reed’s eyes opened wide, frozen for a moment, before he frantically pushed himself from the window and closed the curtains.

“What was that?!” he cried. “No animal has eyes like that. What was it?”

Father Reed grabbed his Rosary and turned off the light.

He kneeled at the side of his bed, facing the window and waited. His heart was thumping against his rib cage. He was gasping, but trying to control himself with his prayers.

A minute of complete silence and darkness passed.

The curtain covering the window slowly showed hints of a glowing red light behind it. The shades cut the light into strips projected on the curtain.

As the red became brighter, Father Reed stood up and backed against the wall nearly slamming into it and began praying aloud, “God, protect me from this beast...but, God, what is this? Give me strength. Please give me strength.” He suddenly tried to recall his own words. “Why fear death? It is God's work, so it should be accepted. But, this? This could not be his work. What is this thing? It must be the devil. The beast is after me for some reason.”

He began to remember people talking about visions they had of demons. He had heard people describe flaming eyes, but he usually saw these things on TV and thought nothing of them - after all, the people who saw the eyes were alive to retell the tale. It seemed like they only had to endure the trial. God’s work to make them stronger.

TICK – a sound broke the silence. The priest listened in horror as the creature slowly dragged its claws across the window creating a rhythm of scratching, screeching and tapping.

“It knows I’m here,” thought the priest. “It’s here for me.”

Father Reed could not bear the sound any longer. He rushed from the room towards the living room. Out of the hallway, he began backing into the middle of the room suspecting that the beast was following him. He tripped over a coffee table and fell to his back. Dazed for a moment, he sat up and then got to his feet.

“Surely, it will know that I moved,” he thought to himself.

He began to creep to kitchen, when - BANG - another loud crash filled the house. The priest dropped to the floor and quickly got into a corner.

“It’s in the house!” he screamed in his mind.

He heard heavy steps moving about in his bedroom. It was searching for him there. The steps stopped and the priest then heard creaking and pushing and eventually wood splintering as the beast forced itself into the hallway. It took two steps down the hall before it stepped into the room and Father Reed could see it fully.

The beast was a charcoal black color from head to toe. Several spiraling horns struck out around its head and looked like a gnarled up mess. There were markings all over its body made of thick scar lines. They looked like a mesh of geometric patterns, spirals and flames. It had long hands and fingers, which were like claws. He couldn’t make out its mouth or nose very well, but its eyes still stood out – bright and burning red.

It turned and looked at the priest. Its eyes became a stronger red as its gaze focused on him. Father Reed quickly crawled out of site, but the beast moved around to find the priest. As the beast broke through one of the entry ways to the kitchen, Father Reed rushed out of the other, back out to the living room and then out the front door. He closed the door behind him hoping it might buy him some time to run through the field to the church where he would protected.

The priest just began to run when he heard the creature slam into the front door and rip it apart. It stood right outside of the door, watching the priest run. It was letting him run.

As Father Reed was running through the field, he heard things in the foliage around him. He could hear creatures hissing and snarling. He could hear them quickly moving and then he could see them. They were lined up along the path. Their eyes were bright and red as well, but they were smaller creatures. They would claw and snap at him as he ran by, but the priest continued to run as fast as he could, ignoring them as well as he could. He was determined to get to the sanctuary.

He looked back a couple times and saw that the beast was following him. It was following slowly though as if it was not concerned about the priest escaping.

At one point, he was tripped by a rock and he fell hard to the ground, but he quickly got up and continued on running until he finally made it to the church.

He flew in through the front doors and sat in one of the pews. He closed his eyes and started praying out loud, but he heard the sounds again. The creatures were crawling all over the outside of the church. They were looking in through the stained-glass windows, but they stayed outside. The priest looked around and noticed that the statues in the church were looking at him too. He moved through the church and they followed him wherever he moved.

Father Reed screamed, “What is happening?”

He was moving through the church frantically trying to find an escape. He was talking to himself, saying, “Where can I go? What is all this? God, please help!”

He, finally, came upon the confessional booth and went inside to be completely alone. He covered his ears and focused on nothing, just reciting his confessions. He, then, began saying multiple prayers – still clearing his mind and accepting whatever his fate may be that night.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared through the mesh of the confessional door. It was bright and warm.

“The sun…oh God, is the sun finally up?” cried Father Reed.

He opened the door and it was true. The sun had come up and the night had gone away. There were no more creatures crawling on the church and nothing staring at him. The priest cried in the middle of the church and thanked God.

He got up and walked out of the front doors. He looked out at the city on the bright sunny day and found everyone walking out of their houses startled and crying as well.

Father Reed looked in astonishment and asked, “What has happened?”