The Void Gospel

We are not living. We are not of this world. Not anymore" - the creature facing Randolph spoke in a hissing whisper.  Its mouth - or was it a snout - lacked any lips that would conceal rows upon rows of teeth sitting in its blackened gums. It had no eyes, but the empty eye sockets were focused on Randolph with tension and apprehension. "Why do you come here? Why do you wake up from our slumber? How dare you - a human - come to the sanctum of the Dead Grove?" Two sets of twisted horns or antlers adorning the beast's head lowered somewhat, as if in a threat. Randolph didn’t know how to answer that. The misty wood smelled of ash and mildew and looked as if it was drained of all color. The trees and bushes lacked any foliage and seemed brittle to the touch. It's a dream - thought Randolph - it has to be. "Of course this is a dream, vermin!" the creature muttered with growing anger. "How else would a human enter this sacred place, other than projecting ...

 Henry’s father was long gone before he died. It felt like it to Henry, anyway. He was there, but he wasn’t there for him. Not when Henry was learning to tie his shoes at 7. Not when he had to learn how to shave at 16. He wasn’t there for Henry when a much older woman took his virginity at 19, and when he had his heart broken and didn’t feel like living anymore at 27. He was just a face in the crowd at Henry’s wedding at 29, not once offering his opinion on Henry’s fiancee before she became his wife, and never after. He was never one of the main characters in Henry’s story, and with each passing year he faded more into the background. His voice has gotten small and quiet. Not that it mattered much, as the man stopped talking almost entirely. Weeks would sometimes pass without him uttering a single word, not even when asked. The now old man would mostly just sit in his armchair, staring absent-mindedly and drift off into sleep. It wasn’t really Henry’s internal need or desire to try...

“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...