Meleta vs. Silver

[James]

Topic: Apocalyptic
Deadline: 9th January

Good luck!

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

There are many sacred sites, some recent to curb violent reactions in the earth. Four such places stand out among all great sites of religion and wealth. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Stonehenge, the Mayan Temples and the Shaolin Monastery of Mount Song are these four places, and they bind ancient and terrible beings. But, over time, the original purpose of these great places of wonder has fallen into disrepair, which was all that was needed to let free the prisoners.

The ground of the ancient circle shook, toppling the mighty pillars of rock and breaking the final chains that imprisoned the monster beneath. A wheezing, bubbling laugh echoed as the ground cracked and a foul smell poured forth. Contagion and sickness hung about the figure visibly as a great green fog, the sickly looking white horse swished its head, tufts of fur and hair flying with the wild movement.

The rider looked even fouler than the steed, skin and hair flaked away, boils and buboes, sores and rashes, puss and decay. The rider was marked by all of these, mucus crusted nose and mouth, rheum wept from yellow eyes. In one withered hand was held a bow, the other clutched an arrow. The pall of his diseases rode before him, spreading across the earth with his lover, the wind. With a phlegm-choked laugh, and sharp spurs driven deep into the sides of his mouth, the rider was off. The first of four was freed, his diseases and plagues would soften man.

All of the news stations were abuzz with the news. Hundreds of diseases, some cases were of illnesses thought to have vanished millennia ago, while others had never been seen. Even as science tried to develop vaccines, the virus or bacteria would evolve beyond any medicine. This didn’t stop some countries from trying more wicked means; all across the globe countries whose budgets tended toward war invaded their neighbors. The battles that were fought were bloody, and the medicine taken would not help the ailing countries. And across the globe, doomsayers predicted the end of days.

The monastery shook the monks who had long ago accepted their burden looked around in fear. Many forgot their oaths and fled down the mountain side, others remained and prayed fervently, kneeling and hoping that by their prayer they could stem this, and they would have been correct.

But his brother had given him strength.

The side of Mount Song erupted in a great wall of debris as the red rider charged forth. Fiery hooves propelling steed and man through the air as the warhorse, bedecked in bloody armor churned the sky in a gallop. Fire snorted from flaring nostrils, and eyes that looked like fiery coals stared ahead. The brass coloring of the steed was aflame in the sun.

Upon the back of the beast sat the red rider, his arms held out in exultation as he laughed to the heavens, roaring with joy in his freedom! His wild hair streamed behind him unbound, the black and knotted locks twisting through the air, his cape of red flapped like a pair of demonic wings, doused in the blood of the innocent.

A fierce blade, half again as tall as a man and almost as wide was clutched in one hand. The blade was forged of the metal of the stars, able to cut through bone and metal. The hilt was of the flayed skin of men defeated in battle. The second of four was freed, his wars would grip the land and end the crops.

Wars escalated as embattled countries called upon allies to aid them, drafts began and farms went untended as the populations of the world declined drastically to fuel the engine of war. Fields of crops, herds of animals, were forgotten, and soon only dust and bones littered the fields and pastures of countries around the world. The loss of food only caused wars, and deaths, to escalate.

The desert stirred, the winds roiled and tossed up sand in great waves. Though the ancient Gardens had fallen, the being they held was still bound, though his power had forever been escaping and eating the land. Now the accursed shackles broke! The sand burst into great plumes as the ancient being was freed!

Both horse and rider were rail thin, skin stretched taught over hardened ribs, their gums were blackened from lack of food, their teeth mere sticks of deep yellow. Patches of hair flaked from the rider from malnutrition, his breath was as hot as the sun and dry as the desert. His skin was cracked and flaking, a fierce roar went before he and his steed, the roar of hunger unleashed.

Not even the dust and bones were safe from the great maw, all drawn down into the gullet of beast and being. His eyes never left his scales, though, watching as slowly the balance tipped, golden coins labeled M slipping away and vanishing, while golden coins labeled A grew higher and higher. His laugh was a low wheeze, punctuated by moans of hunger, and his howling stomach ached to be filled.

The third of four was freed, his hunger would spell the inevitable end for all.

Because none were there to tend the farms, and because the blood was so plentiful, crops and rich land failed in the wake of the war and the grip of plague. In the wake of all this destruction and death the last seals were broken. Televisions gave way to static as none were there to watch, and finally to darkness as power finally ran its course. There were those who still clung to life, scavenging from the corpses of the fallen to try and eek out a living, even while foul illnesses racked their bodies, and they knew the end was coming near.

There was no cataclysmic eruption, no hail of fire or ice. Fog shrouded the land of the Mayan temples, and out of it rode the last of the riders. He rode with no speed, with no fury intent. Though early he had raged against his chains, over the years he had grown to learn patience. He knew the end would be inevitable, and knew that he be in no great rush to find his charges.

The strongest man would quake and wail before him like a newborn babe, while the smallest child would look at him with some understanding, if not a hint of sorrow. For all knew his appearance, all knew the silent figure that waded through the carnage wrought before him, of the souls that flocked to his banner as he marched, of the darkened sky filled with murders. His children once more sang their harsh caws at the return of their father.

His billowing cloak of shadows encompassed all those who were destined for him. His presence served to quell the fiery tempers of his brothers, even the violent War. That was his way.

As the grim rider made his pass, there were those who drew the courage to gaze into the tattered cowl that shrouded him. They would stare for a long time, and he would wait for them to take in their fill, he was in no rush. With a silent nod, the souls of the departed would wade into the great cloak, and the blackness that awaited them.

He was the last rider, all the terrible deaths of the world given essence and form. Above all four brothers he was feared most; he was the harbinger of death. All four were free, the world of man had ended.

But, where death and destruction had passed, life sprang anew.

Plants pushed their away through the soul, their leaves questing toward the sky. Bones and corpses were overridden by questing vines, tiny insects, mammals, reptiles and fish began to appear from hidden holes. Even some of the larger beasts of the world emerged, but for all that returned, only the decaying ruins of man were left as testament to what had transpired.

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

(( A quick MATURE warning: There is a lot of graphic language/obscenity throughout this piece – but with good reason in the context of the story and its main character. (Or at least, what passes for good reason with this author – of course the judges will have the final say. ) Put simply, if foul language offends you, read no further. ))


"It is inevitable that stumbling blocks come, but woe to him through whom they come! It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea, than that he would cause one of these little ones to stumble.” Luke 17:1-2


Joe never understood what the hell people meant by “dry heat” being somehow better than any other kind. One hundred and ten fucking degrees was still hotter than shit. Even with the car windows rolled down it was like getting smacked in the face by a wind straight from hell.

”Language, Joseph.”

”Sorry, Ma.” Always her voice in his head, gentle even when chiding, policed his thoughts. Any good that had happened in his life, any trouble he’d managed to avoid, had always been at the urging of his mother’s loving voice in the back of his head, guiding or pleading or simply encouraging.

What he’d give to see her again, to have the chance to sit next to her just one more time on the porch swing while she read to him from that old, tattered, leather-bound Bible. Too bad he’d been too damn stubborn, too damn smart for his own fool good, to listen when she was still alive - when it could’ve actually done his sorry ass the most good.

’Lang-‘

’Yes ma’am.’

Mile after endless, monotonous mile of scorched desert had already fallen beneath the old Cadillac’s wheels. Joe could only pray there were far fewer ahead, and that Garcia hadn’t been bullshitting him about what was supposed to be waiting out here. Not that dying men would bother trying to mind screw the living with false hope – but who the hell knew what anyone was thinking, or was capable of, when they had front row seats to the end of the world?

Ed Garcia – like so many of the base's employees – had been a regular visitor in the small desert town, one of those few lifelines that kept the tiny restaurant, the hole-in-the-wall bar and his mechanic shop barely above water. It had been easy for Joe to get lost, and stay lost, in that place. No one knew his past. Hell, no one cared. Just mind your business, do your job, and nobody ever got too curious about where you came from, or how many years you spent repaying your debt to society.

Still, if you’re a talker like Garcia, well, it wasn’t as if anything like pesky national security issues was going to shut you up. Besides, good stories and interesting news were always at a premium in the middle of nowhere – and oh, could Ed talk. Of course he knew he wasn’t supposed to, but inexplicably Garcia had decided some time ago that Joe was his best friend in the whole world – and friends don’t keep secrets from each other, do they? And so Joe had been regaled damn near daily with fantastical super secret squirrel tales of the master spy known as Ed Garcia. His favorite piece of Ed’s bullshit, though, was of the ship “they” were building out there in the desert. This ship, though, would never see water. Ed swore up and down – no matter how much Joe laughed at him - they were being made ready for the insanely rich and unimaginably powerful to fly off in orbit around the planet. It was supposed to be a new kind of luxury “get away,” of all ridiculous, useless things.

But now, that didn’t seem quite so ridiculous – and definitely not so useless. The whole world had turned upside down and inside out in the course of just a few years. It had begun with unimaginable plagues that depopulated entire nations on the continent of Africa, portions of Asia, South America - and the vile accusations and political panic about where they had come from, where they might have started. Most of the “prosperous” world could have ignored that setback as long as it was contained to the backwaters of the world. Hell, most of the fat, happy and undereducated denizens of the “First World” couldn’t even name a single nation in Africa, much less be bothered to take their eyes from the latest reality show for yet another body count on the news ticker.

On the heels of that devastation came the droughts, and then the famines, in lands that had never known anything but prosperity. Suddenly there were bread and soup lines where none had existed for over a century. And the spoiled and entitled couldn’t ignore their own strangely empty stomachs, murdering and rioting over a case of bottled water, or the last can of green beans on an otherwise empty store shelf. Inevitably came the wars, nation against nation, militia against militia, fueled by desperation and fear and greed in equal measure as the constructs of the “civilized world” not already dead just… collapsed.

Every living thing on Earth knew, down to its bones, that this was the end. The unimaginable wasn’t just dancing like a lunatic on the fringes of make believe and “maybe someday” anymore. Hell, even Ed had known. Joe would never comprehend how that man managed to show up on the doorstep of his trailer bleeding out like he was, holding his insides in with one arm as he pounded on the rickety door with the other. Ed never told Joe how he got gut shot, who did it to him, or why – he didn’t have that kind of time left to him, and the message he had was just too important.

”Get outta here,” Ed wheezed, a fresh rivulet of blood falling from his lips, adding another dark stain to what should have been an immaculate, crisp blue collar. “To the base. Get to… the base. They’re gonna… gonna nuke everything, man. Destroy ev’ry… goddamn thing... Gonna all… go up. Get to… the ship. Straight shot… four hours from here… Route 12. Four hours… It’s all… the time you… got.” Garcia had tried to press the keys to his piece of crap Cadillac into Joe’s hands, words failing finally him as he collapsed in his arms. Joe tried to drag Ed to the car with him, thinking crazily about how to get his friend to a hospital he already knew wouldn’t be open, likely ransacked a month ago for anything useful.

Ed saved him the trouble though, of wasting any more time. He died there with a small, strangled gasp in the dust and sand of what had passed for Joe’s front yard, eyes wide and still pleading with his friend to move – for the love of God get the hell out of this place. Nothing else in this failing world could have convinced Joe this was real, that Ed’s message had a damn bit of merit, but that look.

Joe didn’t leave him there, though, to rot or burn or whatever the hell was going to happen to everything he'd ever known in a few hours. He pocketed the keys quickly, hoping that if some semblance of order still reigned on the base, the official-looking stickers still on the Caddy’s windshield would be enough to get him through the gates. But Ed he left at rest on his couch, covered carefully in one of the precious afghans his mother had made.

It was the least he could do for the guy.

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.' Matthew 25:40


Joe tried to ignore the sweat running down his back, though his t-shirt was already soaked through, making it stick uncomfortably to the vinyl car seat whenever he shifted his weight. He’d had to leave the seat cover back at the trailer – he just couldn’t bring himself to sit where Ed had bled out. Joe was pretty sure most of his passengers weren’t doing that much better in the heat, but he just wasn’t willing to take a chance on wasting the gas to air condition the car. God help them if they ran out before they got to Ed’s ship – not like there was a Texaco or a Love’s on this route.

He had found them some seven miles outside of town, standing beside an RV that had apparently decided to give up the ghost at just the wrong time. A tall, lanky man was staring intently into the steaming engine compartment, as if he had a clue what to do to fix this mess. A thin, frail woman watched him, nervously tearing at her nails with chittering teeth. The little boy – Joe judged right off he couldn’t have been more than six or seven – was simply leaning against the back door stairs, a sweet smile on his angelic face as he stared far off toward the desert horizon. For all his stillness though, the boy’s mouth was moving as if he were deep in conversation with someone.

As it turned out, the little guy was singing. The thought did cross Joe’s mind to just keep driving past them, but hell, he wasn’t a monster. He could justify to himself leaving the man and the woman out there – who knew what kind of crazy some people might be driven to do anymore? There might not be anyone left keeping statistics, but Joe sure didn’t plan to become one any damn way. But, just not the kid. He couldn’t do that. Not to the boy…

Joshua was his name, according to his mother Beth. She sat curled up in the back seat, arms wrapped around her knees as she peered at the road ahead around Joe’s head. Next to her sat the man both she and Joshua simply called “Pastor,” and for his part he offered no other name. The lanky man with the thin, wispy blonde hair said nothing at all when Joe explained the situation to them there on the roadside, and where he was headed – bat shit crazy as Joe knew it must have sounded. Pastor had simply nodded and climbed into the Caddy’s back seat, Beth following as docilely as any good dog he’d ever seen.

Joe had blinked once after them, and then again, shaking his head a bit before he finally looked to Joshua. “Wanna ride shotgun, little man?” he’d asked, somehow managing something akin to “cheerful.”

Not until the boy looked him full in the face did Joe realize this wasn’t just any other kid. What was it called, that roundness of the face, the Asian-looking eyes with that touch of awkwardness, and that perpetual smile? He wracked his brains for a moment, trying to remember what the condition was called. Mongol… something… No, that wasn’t it… Wait… Dollins… Dawkins… Down’s! Down’s… sickness… or something like that.

“Time to go?” Joshua asked, breaking off the gentle humming he had fallen into when the Caddy pulled up. He graced Joe with that same beautiful smile that lit his face so much brighter than the desert sun ever could.

“Yeah buddy, time to go.” He had helped the kid in the front seat, not bothering with the seat belt. What was the point? Joshua held a ragged-looking stuffed animal - the faded green, fluff-sprouting remnants of what had once been a dinosaur if Joe was any judge - tightly to his chest before whispering something to it with a giggle.
“Dobs likes you,” the little boy said to Joe after he finally climbed into the driver’s seat. Joe started up the engine, crawling back out onto the road with a crunch of gravel and the foul smell of exhaust.
Joe grinned. “Yeah? You tell him he’s pretty cool too, little man.”


"But there is nothing covered up that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.” Luke 12:2


The Caddy’s old fashioned dial radio probably still worked, but it wasn’t as if there was a single station on the air anymore. Joe hadn’t heard a thing over his home radio in at least a month – which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The world’s death throes weren’t exactly something Joe wanted to hear live, all up close and personal. Still, he sure did miss the music, the spontaneous sound of a live human voice. Hell, even that twangy country crap would be sounding good by now.

But not as good, Joe was sure, as that little boy’s voice as it carried clear and sweet as rain over the roar of the hot wind and the smooth growl of the car’s engine. It seemed Joshua only knew one song – or maybe this one just had special significance only he knew about – but the little guy sure did belt it out for all he was worth.

“He’s got the whole worl’ in His hands,

He’s got the whole worl’, in His hands,

He’s got the whole worl, in His hands,

He’s got the whole. Worl’. In His hands!”

“He’s got the itty biddy babies, in His hand… “

Joshua bounced happily in his seat as he sang, his own small hands in constant motion as he formed the “world” again and again, cradling the babies, and pointing at “you” and “me.” Joe had no idea how long Joshua had been at it – maybe an hour, maybe more. But that soothing voice was the one thing that kept his nerves on an even keel as his eyes scanned the horizon, praying he’d see something soon that said he was going in the right direction - or at least getting close to Ed’s miracle ship. So when he actually heard the Pastor speak behind him, Joe almost jumped out of his skin.

“Beth. Get that kid to shut the hell up.”

Joe shot a glare in the rear view mirror that, if he’d had his way, would have incinerated the bastard where he sat. It wasn’t as if Joshua stopped what he was doing. He didn’t – the little guy just kept going like he didn’t hear a word otherwise. Beth leaned forward over the seat toward her son, but froze in mid-reach when Joe spoke, his voice even, steady and brooking no discussion at all.

“Lady, sit back and leave him alone. He ain’t doing no harm.”

Beth shot a glance at the Pastor, dropping her eyes and then her hands to her lap. “I think Pastor would prefer a little qui-“

“I don’t give a good damn what Pastor wants. He’s a grown man – you think he can speak for himself?”

Joe adjusted the rear view mirror this time, ensuring his own gaze met the narrowing eyes of the Pastor as Joshua began yet another rousing chorus. “Are you seriously supposed to be some man of God or something? What the hell’s wrong with you, talking at a little kid like that when the whole world’s falling to crap?”

Pastor sat up straight now, dull blue eyes meeting Joe’s own in the mirror. He brushed back the thinning hair on his forehead in a rather futile gesture, the wispy locks picked up and tossed about again by the very next gust of wind. “I was. Am. Still. Like it’s any of your business.”

“My mother was a real lady of God,” growled Joe, “She took up for kids, didn’t knock ‘em down or shut ‘em up for no good reason.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” sneered Pastor, “You? Are you judging me? Yeah, I’ll bet your mother was a saint, raising a great kid like you. Think I don’t know what prison tats look like, convict?”

Shit. He fought the urge to tug his sleeves lower over his forearms, his first instinct to cover the tell-tale ink – as if he could with nothing but a sweat-soaked t-shirt anyway. Joe’s gaze averted quickly from the rearview mirror to the road ahead, his mind racing. “Weren’t people like you supposed to get all saved by Jesus and caught up to the sky when Armageddon came?” he shot back, grasping at anything he could to cover his wounded pride, “What are you doing here now, huh? God leave you off the ‘good guy list?’”

It seemed Joe’s wild shot actually hit the target square. The Pastor sat back for a moment, his mouth open just a little as raw resentment and spite filled his eyes. “Some of them did go, you know,” he began slowly, his voice almost low enough to miss in noisy car, “My wife – haven’t seen her in some seven years. Just up and gone. No warning, nothing.” Beth squirmed uneasily next to him, her gaze darting bird-like between her son and the two men, never staying long on any one of them as she wrung her long, thin fingers together over and over.

“Seems there’s some mistakes you can’t ever take back, when God decides His ‘time is up.’ Sometimes you’re just stuck with your screw ups, staring at them everyday like a living, breathing mark of Cain.” The Pastor’s eyes fell meaningfully on the back of Joshua’s bobbing head, lingering there for a moment before he looked disinterestedly at Beth, and then back out the window again.

Joe tried to take in one small breath, lips curling back over his teeth in a soundless growl as he shook his head, piecing together what the Pastor was actually saying - despite what he would not. Son of a bitch. He blamed the poor kid for his own sins, his own dirty secrets. Probably even blamed him for being born – especially born the way he was. What kind of motherfu-

“Joe look!” His head snapped to the horizon quickly, following the direction of Joshua’s excitedly pointing little finger to a distant, distinctive glimmer of metal in the distance. “Dobs come in the rocket too?”

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

"For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake, he is the one who will save it.” Luke 9:24

All this way. All this goddamned way… for this?

Joe leaned against the steel frame of the giant walkway, putting his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair over and over again, as if that act could help him find a way through this… this… insanity…

Joe just knew, simply knew, it’d been way too simple getting this far - and staying alive at that. Hell, he’d even managed not to strangle that smug, arrogant bastard of a Pastor when they finally got out of the car. There had been a guard at the gate, but the uniform was far too busy looking at something on a flashing screen in the guard hut with him. He’d just waved them through without even a glance - apparently anyone who made it this way could do exactly as they liked.

He’d gunned it to the launch site, a steady plume of dust and sand in the Caddy’s wake. Fortunately for Joe, you didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure it out where that was. He had watched all the space shuttle launches on television when he was a kid – even the ones that went bad. He knew, at the very least, what a space ship should look like.

’Ed, you crazy sonofa… It’s here, brother. You did it. We made it!’

Even securing space on the ship had been almost absurdly easy. At least two dozen men and women were scurrying about the Atropos, the ship’s name printed gaudily in giant black block letters along her side. Joe just grabbed one guy by the arm, some techie looking guy in a white coat who gave him and his three companions a quick once over. “Yes, there’s room. Don’t know how the hell you all wound up out here, but there’s quite a few who didn’t make their appointments. And with what’s coming on those warheads, this is one liftoff deadline the Atropos is not going to miss.

Their little company had made quick time to the stairs and the walkway up toward the ship’s entrance. All had been going so well, so smoothly – until they met the little technician with the big checklist. Something about this self-appointed gateman screamed “lifelong bureaucrat.” Maybe it was the perpetual squint, or the merciless appraisal in his eyes, or the arrogance in the very air about him, almost thick enough to touch.

Beady eyes took the little boy in a glance, the top of the man’s pen ticking an impatient rhythm against his teeth. “Sorry man. It’s a brave new world out there, you know? Or, it’s going to be, when we land. There’s just so much food and water to go around until the dust settles back here on terra firma. Only the fittest, right? The kid… He just can’t… He’s not… Ah man, don’t make me spell it out. He just can’t come with us. I’m really sorry.”

Joe knew the self-important little shit was anything but – but short of murdering him where he stood and hijacking the ship with no weapon to speak of, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. Helplessly he watched the Pastor walk past him on the walkway and disappear into the ship without a single word or backward glance. For her part, Beth looked poised to either run or faint as she stood there next to her son – though her traitorous eyes followed the Pastor longingly, as if she simply couldn’t help herself. Joe couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts that were passing through her head, but when she finally spoke, he thought he might vomit right there.

“Joshua, baby,” she began, her voice tremulous as her gaze darted everywhere, anywhere, but on her son, “Mama’s going to go check inside the ship real quick, make sure everything’s safe and ready before you come on board.”

Running one quick hand over her son’s tousled head, Beth took a deep breath, trying on a piss poor excuse for a smile before she continued. “You stay right here, sweetie, and be Mama’s good boy, all right? Don’t you move a muscle, and keep Dobs close. I’ll be right back,” she lied, kissing Joshua’s forehead quickly before scurrying into the bowels of the ship.

’With a kiss?’ was all the stunned Joe could think as he watched Beth’s retreating back disappear. It took several moments before he realized the technician was still looking at him expectantly, giving him a quick head nod toward door with one raised, impatient eyebrow. Joe knew he could join them now, of course. Get on that ship, escape on the Atropos, miraculously avoid the fiery death that was coming to claim this world. He could have a fighting chance to survive. Live on.

With them.

The goddamned future of the human race.

Slowly, deliberately, Joe bent toward the waiting man. ”Go fuck yourself,” he whispered into the tech’s ear before taking Joshua’s hand in his own.

“C’mon buddy,” Joe said to the little boy as they began to walk back down the platform and toward the Caddy. “Ever seen a military base before? You know, where soldiers live and all?”

“I wanna go on the ship,” Joshua pouted, clutching Dobs with one arm as he held Joe’s hand.

“Yeah, I know. We’ll be going on a long trip soon enough, little man. But who says we can’t have a little adventure while we wait our turn?” Joe bundled Joshua into the car one last time, starting the engine and driving away quickly from the launch pad, toward the concrete and steel buildings of the base proper.

“We can go anywhere we want, you know,” continued Joe, “We can be, like, explorers!”

“Like Dora!”

“Sure buddy,” Joe said with a grin, his eyes scanning all the buildings they passed for that distinctive yellow and black sign that meant a fallout shelter.


"See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven continually see the face of My Father who is in heaven. For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost… So it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones perish.” Matthew 18:10-12, 14


“Jesus loves me,” said Joe with a smile, patiently waiting for Joshua to respond.

“Jesus loves me,” parroted the little boy.

“This I know.”

“This I know.”

“For the Bible.”

“For the Bible.”

“Tells me so.”

”Tells me so.”

“You’re pretty good at this whole singing thing, Joshua,” Joe laughed kindly as he rested his back against the cold brick wall. He had finally found a fallout shelter in what looked to be an old gymnasium, scrambling into the building through a broken window and bundling the boy downstairs - for all the good it would really do. Still, there was time to try to teach the kid just one more song – and the little guy was taking to it just great. Maybe by the time the world finally ended, they might be well into the second ve-

The explosion rocked the building all around them, the dull and horrifying *WHOOMP* penetrating even the reinforced concrete and steel. Joe threw himself over Joshua instinctively, clutching the little boy closer, eyes shut tight as he waited for the brilliant, burning light, the end upon them finally and…

… He waited. Ten heartbeats. Twenty. A full minute, and then at least two more.

“Joe?” A muffled voice, “Joe… breaf… can’t breaf…”

“Oh, sorry little man.” Joe quickly set the boy on his feet, brow furrowed in curiosity as he listened for a few minutes more – with nothing but silence for his efforts. “Stay here, Joshua,” he said when his curiosity couldn’t hold out , “I’ll be right back.” Joe winced a bit when he heard Beth’s own words fall from his mouth, and it really didn’t help that he knew he wasn’t lying to the kid. “Hey! Teach Dobs the new song, all right? I’ll be just a minute.”

Joe sprinted up the stairs, opening the heavy door and stepping into gym proper. He pushed open the double doors and walked into the still brilliant light of just another scorching day in the desert. He propped one door open before taking a quick look around, wondering just exactly what in the hell it was that made that-

He couldn’t help it. Joe’s mouth fell open, one hand covering his face in horror as he looked toward the site of the Atropos.
Or rather, what had once been the Atropos.

There was no reassuring line of fiery rocket fuel exhaust headed into the stratosphere, ferrying one of the last hopes for the human race (such as it was) speeding into space to escape sure destruction. Instead black smoke, thick and acrid, rose up from what Joe could only imagine was a gaping crater where the ship had once been; a fiery inferno reaching for the sky now instead of that once-proud testament to the very best of man’s ingenious technology.
Joe knew he couldn’t stay here, a silent witness – Joshua was waiting for him. Needed him. There wasn’t a single damn thing he could do for anyone on the launch pad. And the warheads? Yeah, they were still coming.

Ed had been telling the truth about everything else. No reason to think he’d been holding out on that part anymore.

“Everything good, Joe?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine Joshua. You teaching Dobs, little man?”

“Dobs a smart dino.”

“Smartest ever, you know. But not as smart as his boy, I bet. You ready for the second verse?”

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

Silver

Spelling & Grammar - 3/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 10/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 37/50

Thoughts: The first sentence is weird, it doesn't read well and I honestly had to read it four or five times before I could proceed forward. Not the best first impression, but it got much better after that.

This piece suffered from the same issue you December submission did; your word choice was great, your descriptions were detailed, and the details themselves were intersting to read. But unfortunately, nothing really happened. Yes, there were wars, and famine, and plague, and death. . . but there was no characters, no plot, no conflict; no real story. It was pretty high quality read, for a text book about the apolcalypse, but there wasn't alot of entertainment value in it. Kudo's though for making your story "Apocalyptic" as the genre stated as opposed to "Post-apocalyptic," even though the four horsemen weren't exactly your idea.

Work on coming up with actual stories as opposed to just cool scenes.

Meleta

Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 10/10
Entertainment - 14/15
Quality - 14/15

TOTAL - 46/50

Thoughts: Loved it!
There were a couple rocky sentences here and there, and I think I saw one or two spelling issues, but as far as story, characterization, plot, conflict, resolution. . . just really great work. I'm looking forward to reading further submissions (assuming of course the other judges agree with me). Really, just great stuff.

[Kaez]

Silver
Spelling & Grammar - 5/5
Ease of Read - 3/5
Use of Topic - 5/10
Entertainment - 7/15
Quality - 10/15

30/50

I didn't spot any grammar and spelling mistakes, and so you've got something going for you there. Otherwise, I had problems. I thought the style was unoriginal and repetitive -- this horseman, reaction, etc. Next horseman, reaction, etc. Four times over. So that took two from Ease of Read. The use of the topic was... well, it was apocalyptic, but it wasn't originally apocalyptic from any sense. It was the four horsemen, probably -the- iconic piece of apocalyptic literature, described. That was all.

The addition of making the four New Testament character guarded by three sites that were build -BEFORE- the New Testament was written and one that is devoutly Buddhist blew any logic out of the water. There were so many great Christian sites that could have been used to make some sense out of that. And so entertainment was... minimal, really, by the boringness of the style and the sheer lack of logic in the locations. But the quality of the writing, and of the descriptions, however unoriginal, was better than the story itself. So ten of fifteen there.


Meleta
Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 5/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 12/15
Quality - 13/15

42/50

Rare spelling mistakes and three or four missing commas didn't hinder the grammar and spelling very much at all, and really, it all flowed as well as I could have hoped it would. The use of the topic was... well, first and foremost, -good-. When I hear apocalyptic, I automatically think of one of a few vague scenarios and this is definitely one of them. But you portray it well, not reinventingly well, but solid enough for it not to seem dry or unoriginal.

The story was downright entertaining, if a bit long at parts -- and I do think this story could have been better if it were a bit shorter -- but overall quite enjoyable. Everything from the choice of names in the characters to your consistently realistic dialogue kept things together nicely. The quality of the writing, therefore, is about equally as impressive, if not slightly more factoring towards the ultimate reaction to the story: a very positive one. I liked it a good bit, certainly not perfect, but close enough to it for an easy win in my book.

[James]

Silver

Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 10/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 38/50

As Zovo said, you did it again. I felt technically, the piece was sound but nothing really happened. There were no characters for me to become personally involved with. There was no real plot for suspense to build around me. There was just a long queue of very good descriptions of stuff that looked really cool… but didn’t make a lot of sense.

That’s all I can really say here, Zovo pretty much said everything I would have.

Meleta

Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 5/5
Use of Topic - 10/10
Entertainment - 13/15
Quality - 14/15

TOTAL - 46/50

Excellent piece, Mel. Just great stuff.

There’s not much for me to say here. Despite the length I breezed through it, I enjoyed all of it and there wasn’t a patch that dragged on. Dialogue was great, you drew emotions out of me because you created relationships between reader and characters. The personal casual narrative was a lovely touch.

Just great stuff.

[James]

Final Score

Meleta (134) beats Silverflame (105)

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

Thanks for all the feedback from the judges - I didn't realize we'd be getting reviews of our pieces, on top of a "grade" of sorts. That's just awesome, and so very helpful! You guys rock!

And a huge thank you to Silver, too, for making this a real contest. You put yours up before mine, but I didn't see it until I was just a few edits and a paragraph or two from done. I read it, and went... "Awww... crap. I think I might have missed the boat on this one... " >< The imagery in your piece was fantastic - wonderful job.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

Reviewer Reviewing: Silver's "Apocalyptic"

- I liked that you went with the four-horsemen. I didn't expect that twist on what is normally just a natural disaster or war situation. Very iconic.

- I liked the descriptions of the Temples and destruction from the Horsemen. You create very vivid pictures.

- I did feel that it was a little too linear. It was very >1 and >2 and >3 and >4 ending. You possibly did that on purpose? I'm not sure. It did detract since you knew what was coming for the most part, and not much really happened.

- I think your piece would have benefited if you gave the reader a bit more emotion from the people who were starving, diseased, caught in wars, and dying. I think that would have pulled me in a little more. Perhaps mini-flash-fictions in between the coming of the Horsemen to show snap-shots of lives being lost and the upset?

- I liked the final note about stuff coming back to life. Where old died and new took over. That was a very powerful point to leave it on. Also very powerful imagery and meaning.

Final note: Your writing is improving in great bounds. There were no grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes that I spotted (although I'm mega bad at spotting that stuff anyways!) I think you just need to work on the actually story telling part. Go you! And keep improving! :]

(Will be doing yours next, Mel!)

[Jenny (Reffy)]

Reviewer Reviewing: Mel's "Apocalyptic"

There really isn't much I can say about this as far as reviewing ... but here goes :]

- Fell in love with the characters. You really did an amazing job at building them in to really believable people. I really liked the humanity you showed in all of them - even if it was harsh.

- I was a little let down about the only woman "Beth" being such a dog and submissive (but that is the feminist in me talking!) It worked for the story but it would have been nice to see another stronger female to balance it out a little.

- The only mistake I spotted was a speech bracket that you missed closing (third posting.)

- I enjoyed the story. It wasn't a different twist on the topic - like Silver did - but it was very well done.

- The reason for the apocalypse was well enough explained. Some of the nerdy-fact people might have wanted a little more explaining though, but the little bit you gave moved the story forwards enough.

- I was kinda shocked at the ending about the rocket. I did not seeing that coming.

- The ending, where Joe and Joshua went back into the bunker, was a really good fade out but it still left me wanting more. I wanted to either see them die, or survive. I suppose in this case the reader has to end the story but I still wanted more

All in all - pretty damned epic!))