• A spec of light in a night sky
• A quiet farm
• A thundering comet
• IMPACT
• Smoke, dust, ash
• A gaping crater
• A panicked crowd
• A smoldering child
• Wailing sirens
• Officials in suits and ties
• Lies
• Damage Control
• A crowded church
• An impressionable congregation
• An angry pastor
From the sermon of pastor Alvin McConkie
… And God cast the devil from heaven and forbade him to return and for a short time it was good. But there were spirits that lingered; unsure as to whom they should follow, and there treacherous minds turned and turned and they said unto each other that they devil had been wronged; that it was Satan who held the ultimate authority. And whence the good Lord heard this blasphemy he sent those spirits to join the Devil within his fiery confines. Yet, these spirits do not remain trapped within their forsaken casket, they are the devils agents. And they eat away at all that is good and all that is righteous and their agency can be tracked through the annuls of our history. Did their spirit fingers not grasp Cane whence he killed Able? Did they not whisper into the ear of Judas? Where they not the Gods of savages and hoards? Listen to me my children, they move like veiled smoke amongst us; they seek to inhibit and destroy the human form and they would see us enslaved beneath their master and we would toil for Lucifer himself. So I preach vigilance!
Yesterday, we saw a child sprung from the underworlds womb, a child that lay still and quiet amidst the flame and chaos, we saw a child cloaked in ash and marked by the hand of the devil. Do not be fooled; this is no Godsend, no savior, and no miracle. The child we stared upon is a bringer of torment and misery. He will be our undoing and our apocalypse. This child must be stopped, God does not frown upon those who resist the Devils treason, he does not frown upon those who revoke the notion that these demons, these false idols belong amongst us. Did Jesus not cast the sinners from the temple of Jerusalem? Where these spirits not deemed unworthy for heaven? This land is our temple and as long as the devil resides her I say rise up; rise up in our masses, rise up with arms and fury, rise up in the name of our Lord our Father, his son and the holy spirit. Rise up and rid this land of evil. Rise up my children, rise!
• A pastor with arms outstretched
• A cheering congregation
• A vicious angry mob
• A fading lamp
• A tear strewn face
• A pen, a journal
Extracts from the Journal of Elizabeth Grace
Monday 20/9
Just clocked off the night shift, I feel dirty. The corridors stink more and more of death every day. I asked the chief of staff if I could transfer again, he said he would do what he can. I don’t think he really cares about me. I don’t think anyone does. I just stay trapped in the ICU.
Today I watched the skin flake off this old cancer patient as he was bathed; his lips were red from the blood he keeps spitting up. I feel sick all the time around these people they look more like robots than people, held together by wires and tubes. This old cancer patient has a button he can hit if the pain gets too much a big blue button that sends him sighing into a stupor, at least until he wakes up a couple of hours later fumbling for the button with his wrinkled hands. I wonder how many times his family thought of pulling the plug. I could just keep pushing and pushing the button till he doesn’t come to. It would be a good way to go I think. I wouldn’t mind it.
Wednesday 22/9
I snuck down to the maternity ward today, just for 10 minutes at lunch. I don’t think that big fat nurse Roberts likes me very much. She just scowls at me, but I don’t care. The drone of the incubators is soothing to me.
It makes me sad to see all those mothers and fathers take their children away and I hate them a little bit, I don’t want to but I do. I scratched away at my stomach till it bled and I had to rush out of the maternity ward and change my overalls. I never understood the white overalls they stain so easily. Someone told me once that it makes the nurses look like angels watching over the patients; I think we look more like ghosts.
Thursday 23/9
There was chaos at the hospital tonight; men in suits and ties with cold faces were everywhere and specialists were rushed in to the hospitals from big cities and fancy laborites. Someone said there had been an asteroid strike, someone said something about a baby someone said something about an alien. I caught a glimpse of this little boy being ushered around by all these excited looking doctors; he had the most amazing eyes. Not like any eyes I ever saw in the maternity wards they almost looked electric, like shimmering blue orbs.
It was hard to concentrate tonight there was such uproar; everywhere you turned some doctor was rushing past you pushing a tray full of needles and vials. If you asked a question as to what was happening you were answered with, ‘need to know basis’ type answers.
It doesn’t seem fair they keep wheeling out of this room with another blood sample or hair sample. It makes me scared to think of that helpless child surrounded by those jackals with their scalpels. Every now and then you can hear the poor baby shrieking I know they are hurting him but they won’t stop; the screaming just gets louder and louder until the walls are shaking, its terrifying. I want to break in there and stop them; it’s a baby not a project. I think sometimes I am the only one who thinks like this.
Saturday 25/9
There is a big mob outside the hospital that damned pastor has put poisonous ideas in their heads. All the suits and ties look nervous, they get angrier with every minute and everyone at the hospital is worried. No one really knows what to do; I can’t help but think that something bad is going to happen.
• A hurled projectile
• A shattered window
• A surging mob
• CHAOS
• Panicked doctors
• Panicked patients
• Frantic reaction
• Crowds
• A lone nurse
• An open door
• A still child
• Unhooked tubes
• A concealed child
• A quick escape
• A lone fugitive
• A cradled child
Some years later
• A circus
• A cheering crowd
• A levitating child
• A proud ‘mother’
• A face in the crowd
• A suit a tie
• A trailer
• A young boy
• A tired ‘mother’
• A flash
• A door ripped from its hinges
• A surge of agents
• A mother thrown to the ground
• A an angry boy
• Bright electric blue eyes
From The Chronicles of a super hero; the early days
Being the son of a fugitive is a difficult upbringing but I never doubted that Elizabeth loved me. As with any child much of my immediate youth is clouded. I believe that we moved around a lot with Elizabeth working odd jobs to provide for us. One of my earliest memories is being taken in by the circus. They were strange people but kind people not afraid of my differences and happy to conceal my gifts within a magic act. It was a profitable venture and I was happy to be able to provide for Elizabeth. However, in hindsight it us unsurprising that we were discovered we stayed with the circus for two years and my act attracted a lot of attention. People came from all over to see me levitate, to see feats of strength that were both unbelievable and unexplainable. They came with force and purpose sure they had found the alien child that had evaded them for so long.
I remember the door being ripped from the trailer; I remember the angry faces of the agents. Agents attached to sinister organizations who sought to tear me from my ‘mother’. I had never known real anger till I saw them lay hands on her and I rose up with such terrible force that the first two agents went retreating back into the night. When I grasped the third agent the trailer was lit up with gunfire. I have been told that when human is stung by a wasp he feels a sharp exterior pain and is left with a red sore upon his skin. This was my experience of being shot. It only served to anger me more; the agent was dispatched with little problem. The lights were blown out but the bullet holes in the walls left small streams of light; miniature spotlights for a miniature hero. I moved through the trailer with serene ease even at such a tender age I was too quick, too resilient and too strong. As agents were blasted from the trailer others scattered into the night the mocking cries of circus folk ringing out behind them.
We left the circus the next day. It was a difficult decision it had become my home over the last two years but we would not endanger the people who had showed us such kindness and it was in that trailer however, that I realized I was more than just a performer. It was the first step towards something greater. It was not beneath the bright lights of the circus tops or in front of the cheering crowds. It was in the dingy trailer with my huddled sobbing savior that a hero was born.
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