The Baby is born. It’s a boy, just like Michael had said it would be.
Eve is sleeping, and we are safe. I hold this Baby in my arms, and I don’t know if I should be happy about this, or if I should wish that it had never been born.
My muscles are sore, and my whole body aches from fighting and killing those two giants yesterday. I hate giants, the sons-of-bitches. When I was nine, they, along with The Nation’s secret police, raided our home and killed my parents; said that my parents were insurrectionists; against The Nation and against The True God. Not having any other relatives, if it hadn’t been for Eve’s parents taking me in to live with them, who had been our next-door neighbors, I would have been sent to one of The Nation’s orphanages until I turned eighteen, and I’m sure glad that that didn’t happen. Kids that get sent there really get brainwashed in The Word from The True Book. None of that shit is for me, man. They get the best jobs, though. They get all of the top government jobs.
Giants have the lowest of government jobs—that’s because they’re so butt-ass stupid. They’re no good for anything else but killing people: Giants are usually between seven to nine feet tall, and their husky. They’re so stupid that the government won’t even let them have firearms: they do all of their killing with long double-bladed swords. I think the reason that giants are so stupid is because their only half human. Giants are born when female humans have sex—rape, really—with angels of The True God. I don’t call them “angels,” though. I call them “shadows.” I call them this because up until yesterday, I never saw one. You can feel their presence when their around, and if you look around real fast, you can catch a glimpse of them, sometimes.
Yesterday wasn’t the first time that I had killed a giant, either. Three years ago, when I had turned thirteen,--I had just received my “Mark-of-Allegiance” on the back of my left hand: It’s required. If you refuse, you’re sent to a Re-education Center.—when a giant killed Eve’s parents.
At the hearing, he, the giant—Igaron was his name—stated that John, Eve’s dad, bumped into him on the sidewalk and then cursed him, and when he grabbed John by the shoulder and began shaking him, John spit on him. He then stated that John’s wife, Elisabeth, jumped him and began striking him on his chest with the inner palms of her hands. Then John began punching him hard to one of his kidneys. That was when he drew his sword and killed both of them. The court found him not guilty, saying it was “justifiable homicide.”
It was a scam, man. Giants get away with everything. It was murder, man.
Right then and there, I told myself that I was going to kill the son-of-a-bitch.
I waited months to do it, but I finally did.
But first things first.
Not having parents now, and not wanting either of us to be sent to one of those orphanages,--There was no way in the world, man, that I was going to let them send Eve to one of those places!—at their funerals, I told Eve to tell everyone that an aunt of mine from out of state was coming to live with us and take care of us. I knew that this would work with neighbors and such. What with giants, shadows and the secret police always on the lookout for any violation against “The Nation,” people mind their own business. My real problem would be with fooling the people from Social Services when they found out about us and came to get us—which would only be days away, too.
This is what I did. I went to the black-market.
John taught me good, man—just like he taught me how to use a sword, practicing in the backyard with sticks so that no one, or the shadows, would report us.
You can get anything you want on the black-market, like swords or weapons. Only giants, the secret police and the Army of The Nation are permitted to have weapons, but John bought swords and weapons from the black-market and hid them in the basement.
Using one of John’s contacts from the black-market, I hired a woman to act like Eve’s aunt from out of state, and when they came to the house for us, she was there. It had cost us a bundle, man,--almost all of the savings that John and Elisabeth had in their savings at the bank—but it worked like a charm, man. This gal had faked papers and everything; said she had moved here to take care of us, and they bought it all. We were safe.
From the black-market, I also got a fake birth certificate and driver license, which would show that I was eighteen, so that I could get a job. I stopped going to school, and I told Eve to tell everybody at school that an aunt of mine from out of state had come and got me and took me to live with her and her family.
Then, I started stalking that giant, that Igaron.
Most nights, he liked to end his day by getting stinking drunk at this sleazy bar in a sleazy neighborhood. I figured this would be the best place to kill him.
My plan was to strap on one of John’s swords,--hiding it under my full-length wind-breaker coat—and wait for the son-of-a-bitch to come out of that bar and run him through with the sword. But before I left the house that night to kill him, I got scared and didn’t do that. I mean, even if I had gotten away with killing him and got away, if I had gotten caught carry a weapon—well, I would have gone to prison.
John had taught me how to make slingshots—taking the V-shape of a small tree limb, two long strips of thick rubber, a pouch make from leather, and assembling it all together with strong string.
So that’s what I did. I placed one of those slingshots in the back of my pants, slipped on my coat, and headed out of the house for that bar with three white marbles in one of my coat pockets.
It was late fall, and I could feel the coldness of winter coming on as the wind brushed against my face as I waited for him to come out of that bar. I kept myself hidden from view by lurking in the deep doorway of an abandon building next to that bar.
I waited and waited.
To be honest with you, I didn’t really know if I would be able to kill him with that slingshot. I mean, I just didn’t have the physical strength in me to get the full power out of a slingshot. John could have, though. He could pull a slingshot back so far that it would send a marble smashing into a tree.
It was nearly midnight before that damn giant came stumbling out of that bar, drunker than a skunk. He started walking in the other direction from where I was.
I waited until he got beyond the other end of the building, passing under a streetlamp. Then, with my heart pounding away, and feeling light-headed, I removed that slingshot from my back-side, got a marble, and went after him.
When I got about four feet from him, I lowered myself, and with one knee touching the cracked sidewalk, I raised and aimed that slingshot high and shouted: “Hey, Igaron!”
He turned around.
With my right arm, I pulled the rubber strips of the slingshot back as far as my physical strength would let me. In my heart, I knew that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. I panicked. I cried: “Oh, God. Give me the strength to kill him.” I think that was the first time in my life that I had ever prayed. Suddenly, I felt this wave of power take over my whole body. My right arm pulled those two rubber strips back farther than I ever had before—farther than even John ever had! When I knew that I had reached the breaking point of those two rubber strips, I let that marble fly.
It flew through the air in a straight line with the speed of a rocket, hitting and exploding in that giant’s big, hairy, ugly face right between the eyes.
He staggered for a moment. Then, like a tree being cut down, he fell straight forward. I shot out of his way, and I felt the sidewalk shake when his body hit the sidewalk, splitting it open.
I knew he was dead.
“Go straight to heaven, you son-of-a-bitch!” I cursed. And then I ran away.
When I got back home, Eve was waiting for me, sitting nervously in a chair in the living-room in her pajamas, robe and slippers.
“Where have you been?!” she shouted, shooting up out of the chair as I entered the house. “I’ve been calling you all night. Why didn’t you answer your cell?”
I told her what I had done. I had thought that she would be happy, but instead, she got angry and started crying.
Through tears of anger, she screamed: “Why did you do that?!”
“For you,” I replied. “I did this for you. You were so unhappy and sad. I killed him for—“
“You’ll get caught,” she stated. “They’ll send us away. They’ll execute—“
I held her by the shoulders, and said: “I won’t get caught, Eve. Trust me.”
“But the secret police … the angels … the—“she said.
I brought her into my arms, holding her, and said: “There was no one around, and I didn’t feel, or see, any angels. Trust me, Eve.”
Eve was too scared to sleep by herself that night, so she asked me if we could sleep together. We slept together for the first time in her bed, and as I held her in my arms, feeling the nipples of her budding breasts against my chest, I knew that I was in love with her. I had always been in love with Eve, but before it had been the love of a sister, or stepsister. Now, it was the love that a man has towards a woman. I wanted to-to have her all to my own. I wanted to have sex with her, and as time passed, she wanted to have sex with me. We didn’t, though. I mean, she was only twelve-years-old. We decided to wait until she was at least fifteen.
The next two years were the happiest years of my life. We lived like man and wife. During the day, Eve went to school, and I went to work: I didn’t like my job all that much, though; working in a hot, old factory all day, running a machine that placed caps on the tops of tubes of grease for motor vehicles. It was mindless work. But the nights and the weekends were for me and Eve. Eve would cook supper for us; we’d do homework together;--Eve demanded that I do homework with her, so that my education wouldn’t fall behind—we’d snuggle on the couch and watch shows and movies on The Nation-run TV; we would have belching matches—and Eve can really belch loud, too—and on and on. It was great. On her birthday, I showered her with gifts—and on Jesusmis, too.
Jesusmis is the most important holiday of The Nation. Jesusmis is the celebration of the day when the false prophet Jesus’ eyes were opened in the desert by Lucifer that He, Lucifer, was the True God and that Jehovah is the Evil One, and he, Jesus, bowed down to Lucifer and pledged allegiance to Him and began serving Him. Jesus married Our Lady Mary Magdalene and they had many children. Although the earth is of One Nation, their kids, and their kids’ kids, have ruled the different countries of The Nation for years, man. They are the only ones who are allowed to see and to speak directly with Lucifer, who lives in a big castle called The Dome of the Rock, in Jerusalem. It is from one of their kids that one day a True Savior will be born, a girl, who will die at the altar of Lucifer’s, rise in thirteen days, and man’s sins will be forgiven and man will finally be allowed to enter the Kingdom of God in Hell. Jesusmis is celebrated on the thirteenth of April: the number thirteen is a very important number to The Nation. It honors the church that Jesus and his twelve apostles—like St. Peter and St. Juke—started, Luciferism, or some such butt-ass goofiness.
Anyway, yeah, we were happy. We were falling deeper and deeper in love. We were having more and more trouble keeping our hands off of each other, you know. Then last year, almost nine months ago to the day, our world came crashing down on us.
It was late summer, and summers in St. Louis, Missouri, are hotter than heaven, and I was anxious to get home and tell Eve that all day long I had been seeing flashes of angels; that the sky seemed to be full of them. Well, I get home, and I find Eve hiding behind the couch in the living-room, crying and all hysterical. It took, like, a couple of hours before I was able to coax her from there and tell me what had happened.
After I had pushed the couch back, I sat Eve down on it and told her to tell me what had happened. She told me that Michael, an angel from the Lord Jehovah, had appeared before her and told her that she was with child. His name would be Susej, and he would be a great warrior and destroy the descendents of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Then, he would sacrifice himself on the Tree of Knowledge and accept all of man’s sins so that sins will be forgiven. On the third day, he shall rise from the dead; chain Lucifer into the fires of hell; ascend into heaven; sit at the right hand of God and rule the world. This he will all do so that man may finally enter The Kingdom of God, in heaven.
“Eve,” I said, “you fell asleep; you were dreaming.”
“No, I didn’t, David!” she screamed. “It wasn’t a dream. I saw him as plainly as I—“
“Eve, none of this makes sense,” I said. “Why would Jehovah, ‘The False One,’ want to free man of his sins—and why you?”
“He said that there is only one God, Jehovah, and that I was chosen because I am a direct descendent of Jesus’ brother James, who was the only one of Jesus’ followers who remained true to Jehovah … Oh, David,” she cried, clutching her stomach, “I’m so scared. What am I going to do?”
I knew she wasn’t pregnant, so I said: “All right, I’m ended this here and now. I’m going to the drugstore, buy a pregnancy test, and it will prove to you that you’re not pregnant.”
She didn’t want to be alone, so she went with me.
Those were the longest ten minutes of my life as I stood at the bathroom door and anxiously waited for Eve to come out.
I was stunned, man—stunned! She came out of the bathroom crying and totally freaked-out, shouting: “What am I going to do?!”
She handed me the stick, and then ran her small, slender fingers through her long black hair franticly.
I read the stick. It was positive.
“What am I going to do?!” she repeated.
Well, I lost it, man. I exploded. When I thought of the-the hundreds of times that I wanted to “take” her, but didn’t because of her age and because of my love for her—well, I exploded.
I threw that stick down and grabbed her by the throat, and waving my index-finger in front of her face, I shouted: “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, you’re going to tell me who you’re fuckin’ … Is it that Bob guy from school? Huh? Is it?”
“No, no,” she said, crying even harder now, a look of total disbelief on that childlike face of hers. “I love you. You’re the only one I want to have sex with.”
“You’re a liar!” I shouted, and raised my right arm and hand to hit her.
Then, the hallway was filled with light. It was blinding, man.
Then this guy appeared before us to our right side. He had long, flowing light-brown hair, and was dressed in armor like a Roman soldier would have worn, with a sheaved, double-bladed sword strapped to his right hip.
“Do not strike her, David,” he said in the most calming, but strong, voice that I had ever heard. “She told you the truth. I am Michael, the Archangel of the Lord Jehovah.”
I released Eve, turned to the right, and then stepped back. It took me a couple of minutes, but I said: “Who are you? What do you want from us?”
“I’m a servant of the Lord Jehovah. The time in nigh for man’s sins to be forgiven. With the child, man will finally be permitted to enter the Kingdom of God in heaven.”
“We don’t want any part of this,” I said. And then I thought of something. “How do I know that you’re telling the truth? How do I know that you’re not one of Lucifer’s angels, or Lucifer himself?—testing our allegiance?”
“Only God is omniscient,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“Only God knows all and sees all,” he said.
“What does that have to do with anything,” I said.
“The Lord God Jehovah knows that it was you who killed the giant Igaron; Satan, Lucifer, doesn’t,” he said. “If he did, you would have been punished … We must leave here, tomorrow.”
“What?!” I said. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to remain here,” he said. “Lucifer knows who you are and in what city you are living. He and his angels are researching for you as we speak—to kill you all, especially the child.”
“I thought you said that Lucifer wasn’t om-omniscient?” I said. “If he isn’t, how does he know who we are and where were at?”
“From the moment the child was conceived,” he said, “the heavens heralded his coming. A new chapter in the Book of Revelation has been written, foretelling of you, Eve, the child and what is to come.”
“Well, I don’t care,” I said. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”
I looked at Eve. Our eyes met—those eyes of hers; those beautiful, dark, comforting eyes of hers; I can read them so well. They said: Please, David. Please stop arguing with him. I’m scared. Let’s go with him. Please.
“All right,” I said. “We’ll go with you.”
He told us to start packing; to pack lightly, and to take what was most precious to us because we were never coming back. Eve packed the family photo album into one of her two suitcases, and I went downstairs to John’s hiding place and got one of John’s double-bladed swords.
The next morning, a white SUV pulled into the driveway, and a man and woman in their early thirties, I would say, got out of the car and came to the door. Michael let them into the house.
They were dressed in casual clothes. Michael introduced them as Raphael and Sarah.
After they had packed our suitcases into the back of that SUV and came back into the house and told us it was time to leave, I grabbed that sword of John’s, and that Raphael said: “Where are you going with that?”
“This is for protection,” I said.
“What do you think we’re here for?” he said, pointing to Sarah and then to himself. Then, their clothes changed. They were both wearing flowing white robes, with a double-bladed sword on both of their right hips. Then, their clothes changed back to those casual clothes.
“Well, I’m still taking it,” I said.
“You don’t need—“he began, but Michael interrupted him.
“Let him take it,” he said.
I wanted to see if these guys were omniscient, so just before we left, I touched my back pants pocket over my windbreaker and said: “Oh, I forget my wallet. It’s on the nightstand by my bed. I’ll be right back.”
“You won’t need it,” Raphael said.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, not listening to him.
I returned from my bedroom holding it up and showing it to them. They said not a word and we left the house. This told me that they were not omniscient: I had had it in one of the pockets of my windbreaker the whole time. I vowed right then and there that when Eve and I got the chance to escape, we would.
Michael didn’t go with us. With Raphael driving, and Sarah in the front seat beside him, and Eve and me in the back seat, we left.
They wouldn’t tell us where we were going, but I kept a watchful eye the whole time.
We drove south all that day and all that night, and the next day, about three o’clock, we arrived at our destination, which was an abandoned Holiday Inn twenty-two miles outside of Phoenix, Arizona: Once we had passed Phoenix, I had kept checking the odometer on the dashboard of the car because Raphael had told us that we would soon be there.
Except for that abandoned Holiday Inn, there was nothing all around there by desert, and mountains at the horizons. Angels stood guard over the place, both inside and outside. They were everywhere, man.
It was like being in prison—they wouldn’t even let us have our cell phones, and we were never permitted to step outside of the place. Our days were spent reading, watching TV, playing board games, exercising,--if we wanted to, which I did—and on and on; and always under the watchful eye of an angel: we were never permitted to be alone. And the whole time we were there, Michael told us stories—like of this guy named Moses, and Daniel, and of this place called the Tower of Babel: There was a time on earth when people spoke different languages,--not Werbeh—and that there was a time when there were people of different skin-color than white.
I have heard that it is written in The True Book that Lucifer had had giants kill whole races of people, like a people called Jews, because they were not created in His image and were an abomination.
Some of the stories Michael told us—like hell is not heaven: hell is the evil place of great suffering and wailing—I had heard before, from John.
From time to time, about every two months or so, John would leave the house in the evening and go somewhere. We just knew never to question where he was going, but many times, when he would return home, he would tell me many of the same stories that Michael had told us. When I would say to John: “But these are just stories, right, John?” he’d always reply with something like: “You’re a smart boy, David. Some day, you will know it all.”
Time passed, and I kept looking for a chance for Eve and me to escape. I had thought of several things to do to escape, but in the end, I never tried any of them. I kept telling myself that I was only going to get one chance at this, so it better be good. Then, I thought: If only we could be alone without these damn angels always being around us.
Six months passed, and I knew that I was running out of time. I mean, I wasn’t going to try and escape after she had had that kid. That would have been too hard, and although we never discussed it, I knew that there was no way that Eve would leave that kid behind. So one day I complained to Michael, telling him that humans needed private time together; that why couldn’t Eve and I just spend some time together without these angels watching our every movement.
He told Eve and me to follow him. He took us to the back of the building, to what I always called the Courtyard. There was a large pool there, with tables and chairs and lawn chairs by the pool. The whole area was enclosed by eight-foot-high walls of cedar blocks, painted white.
“From this day forward,” he said, “let’s say at ten o’clock in the morning, you may have one hour a day of privacy. Remember this,” he said, holding up his right arm and hand, “you are not to engage in sex of any nature.” Turning to Eve, he said: “You must remain clean until after the child is born. Is this understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Eve said, real quietly.
Her saying that to him like that really pissed me off. So, I said: “If I wanted to have sex with her, I sure wouldn’t need a whole hour.”
“That’s very humorous, David,” he said, but didn’t laugh. Turning and walking away, he said: “Enjoy your time together—and no sex.”
Well, this wasn’t any good. I had hoped that Michael would have given us free-run of the entire place. My plan had been that we would run out of one of the back doors and head for Phoenix and get lost in the crowd.
The Courtyard was about half the size of what a basketball court would be at a high school. I began looking around, and then I spotted something. It was weird. I had been in the Courtyard many times before, and had even swum in the pool many times before, and had never seen this there before. Against the north wall of the Courtyard, about mid-way, was a large—about four feet high and four feet wide—metal tool chest on rollers.
I walked over to it and began opening drawers. They were all empty, except for the bottom draw. In it were a hammer and a chisel. I rolled the tool chest away from the wall, and then I ran my hand over the surface of the wall. Bingo! I knew what I was going to do.
If I could just punch a hole in it large enough for Eve and me to get through, we could escape.
It was hard work. Every day, while we had our “private time,” I chipped away at that wall behind that tool chest.
For the first couple of days, I was on pins-and-needles. I kept thinking that that tool chest would be moved or taken away and I’d be found-out, or that Michael or one of the other angels would say to me: “I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” But none of that ever happened. So about a week later, I thought: Omniscient—my ass!
While I worked at that wall, Eve would sit quietly in one of the chairs at a table. Sometimes she would read a magazine or a book.
She was now wearing clothes that were way too big for her. I think she had asked the angels to give them to her because she knew how much I hated seeing her growing bigger by the day. Sometimes she would catch me looking at her, and she would start crying and beg me to still love her. I always told her that I still love her—and I still did, man. I-I just didn’t want her to be pregnant—especially not by something called The Holy Spirit.
Anyway, it took me three months, but I did it. I chipped a hole in that wall large enough for Eve and me to squeeze through. Once, when I had first pierced a small hole through that wall and looked through it, I saw nothing but desert, as far and as wide as the eye could see.
Before our hour was up that day, two days ago, it was, I told Eve that we were escaping the next day. She said not a word, but nodded yes.
The next day, I told Michael that I was coming down with the flu or something,--that I was just chilled-to-the-bone!—and that was why I was wearing my windbreaker coat. In both pockets of my windbreaker, I had a bottle of water, and underneath it, strapped to my right hip, was that double-bladed sword of John’s. When Michael left the Courtyard, Eve and I headed for that hole.
Although the sun was brutal, man, it was great being on the other side of that wall. We were free. Freedom is a great feeling, man. We headed south, for Phoenix.
The whole time that we walked, I kept checking the sky for angels and shadows, but I never saw, or felt, a single one.
We didn’t get very far. I bet we hadn’t walked farther than a mile or so when Eve cried: “David, I have to rest. My feet are swollen, and my stomach hurts.”
I helped her sit down on a boulder. She was out of breath, and she was sweating like crazy: her clothes and hair were all wet.
Taking those bottles of waters out of my pockets, I said: “Here, take a drink of water.”
After setting one of the bottles down on the boulder, I ripped the cap off of the other one and handed it to her.
“I’m so sorry, David,” she said between taking large gulps of water from the bottle. “I can’t go on, David. You go on without me. I’ll go back.”
“You can’t go back there!” I yelled.
“They wouldn’t hurt me, David,” she said. “I know they won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “All they want is that damn baby.”
I felt lost—trapped. I searched the area with my eyes for an answer—and there it was. Tied to a bush with a rope—no more than twenty feet from us—was a small mule.
I got the mule and brought it back to where Eve was sitting. I helped Eve get on the mule, and we began walking south again. I felt so relieved and happy.
Sadly, we didn’t get much farther. I bet we hadn’t walked even another mile when Eve cried again: “David, stop. Please stop. My stomach hurts so much.”
I helped her off the mule and helped her lie flat on the hard ground in the shadow of the mule. After removing my windbreaker, I rolled it into a ball of sorts, and then placed it behind her head for a pillow.
I stood up and searched the area again for another answer. It wasn’t an answer, but from the east it came.
In the air were swirls of dust. As it came closer, I heard the sound of an engine. Then, I saw him, riding on a huge ATV: It was a giant.
He was wearing a dark-colored shirt and a black leather jacket and matching pants, like a biker. His sword was on his left hip, and on his right hip he had a walkie-talkie. A long cord ran from the walkie-talkie to a microphone that was clipped to one of the lapels of the jacket, next to his mouth. Before he got off of the ATV, he spoke into that microphone.
Towering before us, and standing about six or seven feet away from us, he said: “Well, lookie at who we got here. I’m gonna get extra pay tonight.”
I drew my sword, and holding it in both hands, raised it high to my right shoulder.
Drawing his sword, he said: “It don’t matter none to me, boy. I get paid if you’re dead or alive.”
I moved quickly away from Eve and began circling around him.
Remember what John always said, I kept saying. You’ll never kill a giant with brute-force—they’re too strong for that. You’ll defeat them with agility and brains … Never attack … Always let him make the first moves … pay attention to his movements … wait for an opening—then strike!
I raised my sword over my head and took two quick steps forward and stopped, wanting him to believe that I was charging at him. He fell for it. With his sword also raised over his head, he came racing towards me. When he was almost of top of me, I pivoted to my right, and stepped passed him. As I did this, I brought my sword down and slit his left arm just above the elbow. I spun around and faced him.
After looking and touching his wound, he shouted: “You little shit! You cut me. I’m gonna enjoy killing you.” He charged at me again.
I faked pivoting to my right again. He fell for it. He turned to the right. I pivoted to my left and stepped pass him again, bringing the sword down again and slicing his right leg above the knee.
He turned and faced me.
“Stop moving around, you little prick,” he said, “and fight like a man.”
I was sweating rivers of sweat, and my heart was racing.
“What would you know about being a ‘man,’” I said, getting a bit out of breath. “I bet that your own mother didn’t even love you, you big, hairy ape.”
This made him furious. He came charging at me with the blade of his sword lowered straight out, wanting to run me through.
I slipped under the blade, and stepped to my right. I came back up and raised the sword above my head. I started to bring the sword down hard to the left side of his face, but he turned and met my sword. We crossed blades, and with all of his strength, he threw me backwards. I went sailing and fell to the ground on my back.
The fall knock the wind out of me, and my back hurt—my whole body hurt. I felt dazed.
Then I heard Eve cry: “David!”
When I looked up, the giant was standing over me, to my left side. He held the sword in both hands, high in the air, with the blade pointing down at my chest. He was going to run me through.
He brought the sword down hard. I raised my sword over my head and rolled to my right.
It missed me by only inches. As I rolled, I felt the vibrations of his sword being plunged deep into the ground.
I sprang to my feet and raced to him. He was bent over, and as he pulled at the sword to free it from the ground, I spread my legs, shifted all of my weight and strength into my hips and legs, raised the sword and brought it down hard to the back of his neck, slicing his head off.
With the elbow of my right arm, I wiped sweat from my face. I was happy. I thought that it was over, man, but it wasn’t.
From the east, again, I heard the sound of the engine of another ATV. I looked in that direction, and sure enough: here comes another giant.
With sword drawn, he jumps off of that ATV and comes straight for me.
I was exhausted. I was too tired to fight—I was even too tired, too exhausted, to even think.
Mindlessly, I stood there and crossed blades with him. He threw me to the ground. I shot back up and crossed blades with him again. He knocked me down again. I shot back up again and crossed blades with him again. This time, though, instead of pushing me back, he brought his blade down towards my face. He kept bringing it down closer and closer to my face, bending me backwards.
I had no strength left within me to resist him. I knew that I was losing, and I knew that he was going to kill me.
When his blade, body and face were towering just inches from my blade, body and face: pushing me down and down and down, I cried out: “Oh, God, if you do exist, save me. Save Eve.”
That’s when I heard the voice. It said: I brought you here, David, so that you shall know that I am who I say I am. I am God, and there is but one God. It was I who gave you the strength to kill the giant Igaron, and I give you the same strength now to kill this giant. Destroy him!
I then felt that same wave of power I had that day that I killed Igaron, bathing my whole body with strength, supernatural strength.
I pushed that giant back away from me, and then I kicked him in the lower part of his chest with the bottom of my right foot, sending him flying backwards.
He fell to the ground with a thunderous thud, and I waited for him to get back up.
I walked casually over to him, and after smiling at him, I began crossing swords with him. We crossed swords again and again: Strike, strike, strike—again and again. The final time that I crossed swords with him, I circled my sword around his and then gave a hard thrust with my wrists and hands, sending his sword flying out of his hands.
You should have seen the look of total disbelief on that big, ugly face of his when I said: “Go straight to hell, you son-of-a-bitch,” and ran him through with my sword.
I walked over to Eve. I knelt down beside her, and touch her face. I was about to speak, when she looked beyond me, into the air, and cried: “Oh, David!”
I stood up and looked up into the sky. It was filled with angels.
I knew that these angels were not God’s angels. It had nothing to do with their physical appearance, or how they were dressed. They looked and were dressed as I had seen God’s angels—in flowing white robes with swords strapped to a hip. No, it had nothing to do with any of that. It was the feeling I got from them—a feeling of pure evil.
Then, from the west, I heard a horn blow three times. Its sound was not that from a musical instrument. It had a tone to it of being of both earth and heaven.
When the third blow finished, I saw Michael descending from high in the sky, with sword in hand, and an army of angels behind him.
The battle lasted only seconds. When it was done, the bodies of angels, both good and bad, covered the very ground itself like a blanket. Rivers of blood flowed everywhere. It-it was horrible.
Michael came to us and said: “We must leave, now.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice, big boy,” I said.
“That’s very humorous, David,” he said to me, again, but didn’t laugh, again.
I can’t tell you where we’re at, but Michael told me that even Lucifer can’t come here. Except for one tree that looks like its dying, it’s beautiful here, so green and peaceful.
As I hold this baby in my arms, I think of John and Elizabeth. I wasn’t their child, and yet they both raised me and loved me … I just don’t know, and if this baby does what God wants him to do, wow, what a horrible life. I don’t know. I just don’t know … I guess it’s a good thing. I guess if he goes through with it, I guess it’s a good thing that man’s sins will finally be forgiven and that this time he will finally be permitted into the Kingdom of God and finally know peace. I guess that that’s a good thing … We’ll see. We’ll see. Right, kid? We’ll see.
The Baby is born. It’s a boy, just like Michael had said it would be.
The Fringe is open to submissions of poetry, flash fiction and short stories of any genre. Stories accepted will be published online in our Ezine and also in the monthly pdf magazine.
We are also open to submissions from artists for inclusion in the magazine.
Submissions should be in RTF format or in the body of the email. Send email submissions only to firstname.lastname@example.org
Currently we only offer payment for one story selected as the feature story in the monthly pdf magazine only. The successful author will be contacted to organise payment via paypal for a $5AUD payment. Authors of other accepted stories published on the webzine and in the pdf copy will receive a copy of the pdf version of the mag the story appears in.
We are open to unpublished and previously published stories up to 40,000 words in length.
About The Fringe Magazine
Here at The Fringe Magazine we publish Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Poetry in all genres and reviews of books, roleplay games, music and movies.
Our variety seems to be hiting the mark with over 100,000 views of our Online Magazine with a good spread across all articles.
Our variety seems to be hiting the mark with over 100,000 views of our Online Magazine with a good spread across all articles.?xml:namespace>From surveys we've conducted, our readers are like most people and enjoy reading all kinds of books, both fiction and non-fiction.
With over 350 readers visiting our site each day, we listen to the voice of the masses and try and procure books in all genres to review. To date, we have reviewed over 600 books, including; non-fiction reference, music, art, photography, gardening, cooking, Self Help, architecture, design, biographies and roleplay games.
We also review fiction in all genres; Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Historical Romance, Paranormal Romance, Horror, Crime, Thriller, Comedy, Western. We also publish Author Interviews, Paintings, Sketches, Art Work, Art Work by Susie Wilson, and non-fiction articles. The only thing you won't find at The Fringe Magazine is a bad review, if we don't like something, we won't put up a review at all.
You will also find music and dvd reviews and the occasional interview with musicians and actors.
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