The Void Gospel

“The reason people think it’s not easy to take a life” - the stranger’s words cut through the silence so unexpectedly that it made Kira flinch - “is because most of them don’t realize they’ve already taken one.” His voice was calm, collected, and could've been soothing. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, revealing a man in his fifties standing over her. Well dressed, neat. Absolutely nothing threatening about him, everything terrifying about the situation. She just came to, tied and gagged in a dark wooden shed. Last thing she remembered was her evening jog through the woods. “People romanticize the concept of reincarnation” - the man continued. “They misunderstand it as a dignified, peaceful ascension of the soul into the afterlife and its resurfacing as a whole new person. Ebb and flow of life and death.” He chuckled. “Quite a comforting thought, to those who subscribe to this belief. Entirely wrong. That’s just not how it’s done.” Kira heard the man’s words, but cou...

 “History of humanity” - Alexei Mullins began his speech - “is a story of denial and deception.” All heads turned towards the balcony, upon which the celebrated architect had appeared. “Today, I stand before you not just as an architect of structures. I have designed for you a new paradigm.” The grand opening of the Worrington Plaza had been the talk of the town for weeks. The brutalistic, concrete form of the complex stood out from the Chicago skyline, with its metallic windows reflecting sunlight in a peculiar, prismatic way contrasting with its porous, dark gray walls which reminded the onlookers of ancient gravestones. It was controversial to say the least, not unlike many previous buildings designed by Mullins.  The 32-story plaza, prestigiously located on Randolph Street, overlooking the harbor and the Daley Park, was intended as a multipurpose commercial complex. Not much was known about the private investor behind the project, Freddie Worrington Jr. Mullins, who on the...

For 28 nights King Edgar would dream of the hooded figure with mirror eyes. The dreams were full of low, commanding whispers and distant screams. Whether they were screams of pain or ecstasy, he could not tell. The mirror eyes gave out nothing. The stone hall in which they met was vast and shadowy. The air in it was thick with anticipation. He gave in to the whispers on the 29th night, when the moon was full. There was no resistance as he donned the red hood and the cluttering chains and went out into the night streets, a sharp, ceremonial sickle in each hand. The people of his kingdom were timid, broken by centuries of oppression at the hands of his dynasty. That was good. He needed their compliance. For each life he took as the Herald of the Othergods, there would be another month of prosperity for the kingdom. And then, as the moon would turn full again, he would descend into the stone hall to wait for his successor. The palace would issue a statement. The king would be proclaimed d...

 "Man, how you can play this game, it creeps the hell out of me" - Giorgio peered over Rod's shoulder. It was hard to say how much mockery was hiding in his solemn tone. "Come on, dude" - Rod replied. "It's Pac-Man!" Ever since his dad put the arcade machines in the lobby of the movie theater, working the ticket booth was no longer a dreaded chore for Rod. It became his favorite pastime. Whenever there was no one around, all the games were his to play with. Sure, as the kid of the theater owner he would still see all the movies, most of them multiple times. But even the best ones would inevitably bore him sooner or later. Video games were different. And the complex, yet simple gameplay of Pac-Man made it his favorite. "No, really man" - Giorgio wasn't letting it go. "Think about it. What is the game really about? Think about the ghosts. They are human ghosts, I don't think there's any other kind, right? So they would be m...

Sandra couldn’t stop laughing. The millipede that forced its way into her mouth and was now making its way down her throat tickled her with its many bristle-like legs. She wondered why wasn’t the gag reflex kicking in, but somehow all that she could feel was waves upon waves of laughter coming from somewhere deep within, now finding way to the surface. This wasn’t just the reaction to the tickling sensation. The amusement that she felt was greater than everything she ever experienced in her over thirty years of life. It touched on something that was always buried inside of her. A profound change in her perception, as sudden as a click of a button. Her entire existence, all of the universe, was an elaborate joke, and she just had been explained the punchline. Just a moment ago she was watching TV when the magician came on. He was standing in front of a concrete wall, dressed in a tuxedo and a ridiculously large top hat. His face was painted white, with smudges of rose on his cheeks and ...

 Harrison was falling. Whatever he imagined death would be like, it wasn’t it. It was like someone opened a chute underneath his bed-ridden body, and he fell down through it and kept falling further through blackness.  An explosion of sight and sound knocked him out of his numb state, as he beheld the red skies filled with twisted, tangled pillars of black, oily smoke, and the desert filled with black, shiny slag, ash, and bone fragments. He let out that scream of utter horror and pain, as he scrambled up from a small crater his falling mass had punched in the surface of hell. Because it was hell. There was no other way to look at it. Not that Harrison didn't expect to end up anywhere else if there was an afterlife at all. There was one, it turned out, and he knew damn well for a death-row murderer like himself there would be no other destination. Harrison felt like the impact had broken every single bone in his body. Yet, he discovered he was able to power through the excruci...

 "Come closer, girl" - grandma's voice sounded sweet as maple syrup, and it felt every bit as viscous. Her fever was finally gone. She was out of bed for the first time in weeks. "What's that wonderful smell?" Heavy curtains allowed very little light inside. The room was dark. Suzie stretched out her hands with the trey mom prepared downstairs. "Oatmeal, eggs, bacon, ham, jam on toast" - she explained. Grandma's back was hunched as she stepped out of the shadow. Tilting her head she smelled around like a dog. The whites of her eyes were pink and reflected light in an eerie way. "No, not ham. Not bacon either. A sweater meat. Yes. I smell a delicious little girl!" - she let out a growl-like sound and launched for Suzie with her fingers curled into claws, mouth open wider than it should be possible. Then she closed it with an audible clack of her teeth. Suzie dropped the tray, let out a shriek and ran downstairs shutting the door to gra...