Post
Revival I hated my job. It consumed all of my time, and insisted I be grateful for it. Like a good little employee, I sat in my cubicle and stared at my inbox. My eyes were on the screen, but nothing registered. Two years out of college and I hated everything about my career. People said this was just the beginning, but it felt more like a dead end. I rubbed my face, digging my knuckles into my eyes until I saw sparks. I’d been getting headaches for weeks, and telling myself it was the screens, or stress, or just not sleeping enough. Then, I coughed and felt a scratch in my throat. I reached for my thermos and took a long drink. For a moment, I felt relief. But the itch returned. Deeper, like the water had just pressed it farther down. I took another drink, but it persisted—turning from mild irritation into a rough scrape. I needed to calm down and splash some water on my face. I pushed back from my desk and stood. The world tilted around me, and I barely stayed upright. My arm shot out and caught the cubicle wall, leaving a damp mark as my hand slid down. The carpet beneath me suddenly looked too close, like it was reaching up to meet my face. “Dude, you good?” someone asked, muffled through the wall of my cubicle. “I’m—” I started, and coughed instead. "I'm sick. I'm going home." I sank back into my chair and, with shaking hands, started the ritual of leaving. I powered down my laptop and listened to its fan whine, then fall silent. I shoved my things into my bag hastily and pushed away from my desk. When I stood again, the floor swayed, but I managed it. I kept one hand on the desk as I stepped out of my cubicle. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed brighter than normal, buzzing like angry insects. As I walked toward the elevators, I pulled out my phone and opened a text thread with my boss, Greg. "Hey, I’m not feeling well. Heading out for the day." I coughed again, and my vision went dark at the edges. My knees buckled, and I caught myself against the glossy wall near the elevators, smearing it with my palm. The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ding. A laughing group of people spilled out, but went silent when they saw me braced against the wall. “You okay?” a woman asked, her face pinched with concern. “I’m fine.” I pushed into the elevator, pressing my back against the far wall. As it descended, the pressure in my head steadily built. It felt like something was pushing out from inside my skull. I stumbled out into the lobby, surrounded by marble and plastic plants. People in suits flowed around like a river, eyes forward, not seeing each other. I threaded through them toward the revolving doors. My phone buzzed in my hand, but it wasn't a reply from Greg. My thumb slid across the screen, leaving a slick streak. A drop of something slid from my knuckle and splattered on the marble floor. I tried to tighten my grip on my phone, but it slipped free and hit the floor with a smack. Heads turned, but no one stopped. I bent to grab it. Pain hit me like a wall. A blinding agony erupted in the center of my forehead, as if a spike was being driven out from the inside. White light exploded behind my eyes—my vision fractured into shards. I doubled over, hands pressed to my brow, smearing a thick film across my face. I gasped for air as panic flooded through me. My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees on the marble. “Call 911!” " Our blessed lord... " “I think he’s having a seizure!” " We bring to you this humble sacrifice... " The pain in my head spread down my neck and into my arms. It felt sharp, like a thousand hot needles pressing out from under my skin. I clawed at my arms instinctually, trying to tear the pain away. My arms contorted at angles they weren’t meant to take—tendons pulled tight as wires, ligaments taut and trembling. Tension wrenched my arms, dislocating my elbows, then my shoulders. Bones shifted under my skin like restless animals. This isn’t real... it can't be. It had to be a dream. It felt like one. Like those nightmares where you run and your legs don’t work, where your mouth won’t form words, and the world turns to glue. The lobby faded, and in its place a vision appeared of a black statue. It was vaguely human, sitting upright, head bowed, but the details didn’t resolve. Every time I tried to focus, my eyes slid off it like oil on wax. I was certain I had seen it before somewhere, but the memory escaped me. The longer I stared, the more it felt like a part of me. The darkness around the statue shifted with life. " MIGHTY LORD BYATIS! TAKE THIS SOUL AND ALL THE REST! BESTOW YOUR DARKNESS UPON THIS WORLD!" The lobby returned in a sudden rush of sound and light. I pushed myself up with ease, bones clicking softly as they settled into their new alignment. The crowd recoiled, scrambling towards any avenue of escape. A man near the front tried to stammer backward and slipped on the marble. He landed hard and froze there. Our eyes met. His face was blank with terror, like his mind had shut down to protect itself. His mouth opened and closed several times before he found the word. “Please...” It was the first word I’d heard in years that felt genuine. I lifted him with ease as his shoes kicked at my chest. His breath came in frantic, hot bursts across my face. His panic smelled… incredible . I opened my mouth, unhinging my jaw with a pop, and shoved him greedily down my throat. The slime lubricated everything, allowing him to slide cleanly into my gut. The lobby’s screams became a distant roar again as people fled in every direction, slipping on the blood and slime that now covered the marble. As I stepped toward the revolving doors, my hand brushed my forehead where the spike of pain had split through. The skin there was smooth. Just a faint, raised shape beneath the surface. Like the suggestion of a third eye that hadn’t opened yet. An odd realization hit me, and I almost laughed. I was really fucking hungry . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tongues of Fire Dusk on our island is a magical time. The salt air cools, the lamps click on one by one, and the church bells get swept away out to sea. I’ve lived my whole life on this small, stubborn chip of land. My people cling to these cliffs like barnacles—I’ve known every one of their faces since before I could walk. I was sweeping the walkway of our cottage when unexpected visitors arrived. Sister Catherine approached with two men behind her. She looked at me with fire in her eyes. “Olivia, Godwin has requested your presence at the Chapel immediately.” I leaned my broom against the wall and wiped my hands. Being summoned wasn’t unheard of. Students were called for lessons and special duties all the time. It meant I was trusted. My pulse quickened with anticipation. It felt like the hours before a storm—when the air grows tense and warns you of something big on its way. I followed them up the narrow path, cutting between jagged rocks and low stone walls. At the island’s highest point stood the Chapel: an aging stone church that appeared to have grown from the rocky island itself. They led me down a side corridor and into a room I’d never been in before. It was small and plain, and several other girls were already inside. I recognized them from school; some were younger than me, some older. Everyone was clearly excited, though they tried to keep their voices low. I overheard hushed whispers drifting between the girls. It didn’t seem like anyone knew why we'd been summoned. A door opened, and two Elders entered. “Girls, you have been called.” We all stood a little taller. Hands folded, shoulders squared. The room tightened with contained energy. They led us through a hallway that should have been impossible. The church wasn’t that big—I’d helped clean it twice a month since I was ten. I thought I knew every room and hallway. But this corridor went down, deep down into the heart of the island. The lantern light behind us thinned, and new lanterns flared to life ahead, casting long shadows that climbed the walls like spider legs. We reached a landing where an iron door had been set deep into the stone. One of the Elders stepped forward and pulled the latch. The hinges groaned as it swung out towards us, releasing a wave of sealed metallic air. Revealed behind the door was a circular room with red cloth draping the walls. Lanterns hung evenly around the perimeter, their light leaving a small area of darkness in the very center. The door closed behind us with a high-pitched hiss of air. I noticed the elders did not follow us inside. Godwin stood at the far side in front of another sealed metal door. He wore his usual dark robe, but tonight there was a strip of red cloth around his shoulders, the same shade as the walls. He lifted his hands, palms out. “Welcome, my beloved children.” His voice filled the room like wine filling a chalice. Some of the girls smiled once again, relieved to hear the familiar cadence of sermon. “Tonight is the night we have worked toward with unwavering devotion.” Godwin turned slightly and patted the shoulder of a man standing near him. The man was tall and thin, with tightly pulled back hair. His hands were stained dark, like he'd been working long hours in the mine. I’d seen him around the island occasionally, always near the church. “ This , is Ivan.” Ivan’s mouth twisted into a half smile. His eyes were dark and sunken deep in their sockets. “We thank you, Ivan. Without your diligence in deciphering the old texts, without your breakthrough, this night would still be a dream.” He bowed his head slightly, but said nothing. Godwin gestured toward the center of the room. There stood a pedestal, covered in a heavy linen cloth. “The texts spoke of an effigy, an instrument of communion. And now…” his voice trembled while trying to keep dignified. “Now we shall be rewarded.” He stepped forward and yanked the sheet away. Beneath it, a black statue. It was roughly the shape of a hunched figure, maybe a gargoyle, but the darkness of it swallowed the light instead of reflecting it. The lanterns made no shine on its surface. “This,” Godwin bellowed, with deep reverence, “is an effigy of our Lord, Byatis.” The word hit the air like a stone dropped into water. The room rippled with its energy. Godwin approached the girl nearest him, who happened to be Lena. Her face was distorted, caught between terror and pride. Hands fluttered at her sides, clearly unsure where to place them. Godwin moved close and leaned in until his face was inches from hers. In the lantern light, his eyes looked feverish. He held Lena's gaze and spoke softly, “You are the most important person to have ever lived.” Lena’s eyes filled with tears. Her mouth trembled into a smile. “Your life,” Godwin whispered, “will give way to a new era. A new dawn. Do you understand, child?” Lena nodded frantically. She was trying her best to hold it together, but I could see the panic in her eyes. Godwin took her firmly by the elbow and led her to the statue. “Touch it.” Lena lifted her hand and hesitated only a fraction of a second before she pressed her palm to the statue’s hunched back. For a moment, nothing happened. Lena stood motionless with her hand on the statue, frozen mid thought and turned to wax. Her eyes stared forward blankly, and her mouth hung open. Godwin spoke a prayer in a low tone, "Our blessed lord Byatis. Serpent-bearded beast of the void." A faint trickle of blood began to leak out of Lena's mouth. He continued, his words rising, "We bring to you this humble sacrifice as a demonstration of our fealty." I watched in horror as the trickle of blood turned into a deluge. Godwin reared back, arms wide, and screamed, "MIGHTY LORD BYATIS! TAKE THIS SOUL AND ALL THE REST! BESTOW YOUR DARKNESS UPON THIS WORLD!" The blood coiled in the air, spiraling around the statue with a life of its own. Lena’s knees buckled, but she was held upright somehow by the stream of blood erupting from her mouth. It was like watching a fruit rot in fast forward. Her cheeks hollowed, her neck stretched, and her arms thinned beneath her sleeves. A wet gurgle escaped from her throat. Then her eyes rolled back. The stream ended abruptly, as if she'd been emptied out, and she fell to the floor in broken dusty pieces. The blood tightened its spiral around the statue, moving faster and faster as it got closer. Godwin couldn’t look away. His face was twisted with awe and wild ambition—the look of a man staring into his own future. The blood spiraled tighter and tighter until it inevitably merged into the statue. He leaned in, inspecting the swirling surface. His eyes were so big, I could see the whole scene reflected in them. There were shapes moving in the statue, like shadows moving in the dark. Godwin snapped back upright. “Right... bring the next girl.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dove, Wind, and Flame My little sister Ellie moved to the big city a few years back. She was always yammering on about coffee shops and rooftop gardens. I didn’t understand the appeal, but I understood her. She’d wanted more than our little country town could offer. I figured the least I could do was drive up and see how she was getting on. I found her apartment building easy enough. It was a depressing grey block with little metal balconies, surrounded on all sides by cars parked bumper to bumper. I circled once, looking for a space big enough for my pickup, and ended up stopped at a red light a block down from her place. Without warning, a crowd of people burst out from around the corner. I could tell instantly that something was wrong by the way they poured into the street all at once. It was pure chaos—like cattle breaking loose from a fence. “What in the world are you city folk runnin’ from?” I muttered. “Probably a hard day’s work.” My question was answered moments later when something enormous rounded the corner. It was easily eight feet tall, maybe more. Its body was shaped roughly like a man’s, but the limbs were too thick, and they bent with a softness as if there were no bones at all. The thing was covered in red slime, like a calf just pulled from its mother. Strands of viscous fluid stretched from its body, splattering on the pavement below. With each step, it left behind a smear that sizzled on the asphalt. Where a face should have been, there was a single enormous eye. The iris burned with the bright orange of a coal pulled straight from the fire. All I could think about was Ellie up in that apartment; I couldn't let that thing get to her. “ Ain’t no way, " I whispered to myself, gearing up for what I was about to do. "Ain’t no way in hell.” I wrapped my hand around the crucifix hanging from my neck and put the pedal to the floor. The engine roared, and my tires squealed against the pavement. The truck lunged forward, straight toward that hideous demon spawn. The impact felt more like hitting a tree than an animal. White fabric and powder filled the cab. The world became a ringing blur of smoke and confusion. I pushed the deflated airbag aside and fumbled for the door handle. My legs felt like jelly as I stumbled out onto the street. The creature stood exactly where I had struck it—hadn't moved an inch. The red mass of its body began to flow up over the hood, enveloping the front of my truck like it was being drawn into thick, living mud. Its body pulsed as it absorbed the engine block. The deeper it pulled my truck in, the more it grew in size. The cab began to tilt forward as the frame bent. Then the windshield cracked inward, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The red mass kept pulling the truck deeper, moving faster by the second. I was stunned, unable to move or process what I was seeing. But I snapped out of it when I saw the two acetylene welding tanks in the truck bed. I drew my revolver from its holster, struggling to steady my hands. I aimed at the nearest tank; then pulled the trigger. Fire erupted outward in a violent bloom of white and orange. The shockwave threw me backward and shattered windows up and down the block. Heat rolled over the street, swallowing the creature in a tower of flame. It let out an unearthly wail that rattled my bones and sent searing pain through my head. I curled into a ball on the pavement, clamping my hands over my ears, but the sound was unimpeded. My memories began to fray at the edges like old rope, then unraveled altogether. Why was I here? Who had I come for? I stood and looked up at the unholy behemoth. It towered over me, its body now infused with twisted steel and flame. It extended a limb that changed shape as it moved, stretching and thinning as it wrapped around me. The orange eye filled my vision. I was lifted from the pavement, as the red mass closed in around me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Communion Godwin always did love the sound of his own voice. From the first moment the girls entered the room, he was performing for them. Hands raised and voice filled with drama, like he imagined a prophet’s would be. I stood where he placed me, slightly behind and to the side. The dutiful scholar. The man who had ‘deciphered the texts’. The instrument. He spoke of devotion. Of destiny. Of communion. And understood none of it. When he patted my shoulder in camaraderie, I nearly recoiled. But I managed to hold myself steady. I imagined peeling the skin from those greasy little fingers. Imagined laying the strips out to dry on a rock under the island sun. The thought calmed me, and I bowed my head. Everything was proceeding exactly as I had planned. He strutted before the girls like a ringmaster—drunk on his own spectacle. They trembled with pride and fear, unable to tell whether they were being crowned or condemned. When he revealed my effigy, the girls went silent, frozen like cornered prey. Godwin then brought the first one forward. I watched with detached interest as he whispered his poison into her ear. I had to admit, he was rather adept at finding people's weak points. “Touch it,” he commanded. She did. The instant her skin contacted its surface, I felt an immense power surging through my blood, igniting my marrow and rattling my teeth. Her blood streamed into the effigy, reinforcing an unseen structure inside my chest—a design I had been assembling in silence for years. I focused all my effort on keeping a straight face. I could not reveal the symphony of power surging through my body at this delicate stage. Godwin’s voice grew louder with each sacrifice. More manic. The more blood the statue drank, the less contained he became. His invocations slowly devolved into ragged screams. The sacrifices were emptied one by one. Their blood coiled upward in elegant spirals, feeding the black surface. Bodies collapsed into brittle husks that shattered against the stone floor. When the last of them was finally merged with the effigy, Godwin turned to me, his chest heaving. “Is it done? Have I been granted the gift? Do I now stand immortal?” His eyes gleamed with naked hunger. I looked at him fully for the first time that night. “Byatis is coming.” The words tasted exquisite on my tongue. “I can feel it approaching. We have perhaps an hour before it arrives.” “That is not my concern,” he snapped. The shift from awe to irritation was almost comical. “The beast is yours to manage. You assured me the ritual would grant me everlasting life. That was our arrangement.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If you have deceived me, Ivan, I will not hesitate. I will drain you, as I drained them.” I stared into his eyes and watched as the realization set in. The look that followed: betrayal twisted into terror. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. “You surrendered your entire flock, every girl who trusted you. All for the promise of power, whispered by a stranger who arrived from the sea.” I smiled broadly. I couldn't hold back my elation any longer. His jaw trembled. “Stop this.” I lifted my hand slightly, and he convulsed. His arm rose against his will, shaking violently as invisible pressure seized his tendons. His fingers stretched outward. “ No— ” His palm struck the statue, and the reaction was immediate. Blood erupted from his mouth in a violent torrent, thicker than the others. Darker. It spiraled upward, circling the effigy. His cheeks hollowed in seconds, and his eyes bulged, fixed on me in pathetic desperation. His body collapsed into dust before he could form another word. The chamber fell still, leaving me in empty silence with the ruined remains of a successful ritual. I wrapped the effigy carefully in linen and ascended the corridor back out to the island's surface. The iron door hissed open, and the night air caressed my face like a cool, salty kiss. I carried it to the cliffside and faced the sea. I didn't have to wait long before the horizon began to darken. It was arriving much faster than I anticipated. Before I had time to think, a new energy enveloped the island. “Show yourself,” I commanded, raising the statue. But no answer came. “Byatis!” I shouted, pouring my will into the name. “I have prepared the vessel. I command you! Reveal yourself!” No response. And yet it was all around me. The ocean began to glow, and the ground convulsed in violent tremors. I fell hard against the stone, the statue slipping from my grasp. It struck the rock with a dull thud and tumbled down a sloped corridor. “No—” I scrambled toward it, fingers clawing at the gravel. The island split. Fissures tore through the chapel foundation. Through cottages. Through the very cliffs. Stone cracked and splintered like old wood. A vast vertical plane of living red flesh surged upward from every direction, encircling the island. It rose higher and higher, curving inward until it formed a complete dome. I forgot my commands. Forgot the statue. Forgot Godwin. I stared upward as the red mass sealed around me, blotting out the stars and replacing them with eternal darkness.
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