Beyond Belief

The ancient gods of the Nilmani people occupy a liminal position between myth and religion, no longer worshiped but still respected. Only the oldest living souls remember these forlorn mischief makers, who liked to plague even their most devout followers with typhoons or earthquakes or other inconvenient harrassments.

When the new gods arose, offering their dogmatic rules and promises of reliable salvation, the Nilmani moved on from their primordial divinities, failing to comprehend the consequences of betraying old oaths. Devastation soon followed, and an important lesson learned.

It won't do to anger a forgotten deity with nothing left to lose.

Deja Vu

Deja vu... To see something happen over again. What does it mean? If one believes in the Old Testament God, maybe a chance of salvation.

That is the question of time. To see the Bible change - they call it the Mandela Effect. However, my monkeys are pretty, and here they only fly, fly, fly... Making this a surreal game of who is real and what is happening.

In a closed time-curved loop - people could change. And yet? If I am from the future, this is the past. And? Nothing changed. Just a time traveler ranting: do not use thermonuclear weapons.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Death Of Humanity Or Earth?

Déjà vu? Exactly when did Japan decide to kill an ocean? 2022? Or 2024? Or this coming Thursday? ‘Tis a question of the mind, it would seem. Meaning?

Each of those dates Japan had decided to let lose their nuclear waste into the ocean. The next question is Indian ocean or Pacific? Which will die? A third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed. To hope for salvation. And realize that governments of the world are fighting UFOs or God or gods? It makes reality kind of fictional today. Doesn’t it?

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Last Ditch Effort

The slave driver’s eagles squawk and shift violently in the wind to dodge the endless barrage of waves crashing against the rocky cliff’s edge. By our scent, they know we are close, but they can’t see us.

“It must’ve been an illusion, pa,” says my son. His tunic is soaked by sea and sweat as he rips oar against cruel wave. “The heat makes one see things while fishing. Perhaps there’s no cave.”

I struggle to speak and strain through the invisibility incantation I have surrounding us and our boat, “Row boy! It was no illusion. It’s our only salvation.”

From Guest Contributor John Martinez

Salvation

I release the sewer grate and climb into the darkness, the stars my only light. I stay close to the alley in case German police scope the streets. My family is starving and out of the three of us, I’m the least weak to make the walk, even though I stumble from fatigue. We’re all in angst living in sewage, but we have no other option.

His figure is faint, but recognizable. He hands me the bag of potatoes and apologizes for not having enough, then kisses me passionately.

“Go now, my Sadie.”

Aron, my salvation in this wretched war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Chariot

Pale reaching hands slipped below powdered ash and blood-soaked mud, pressing tighter to the earth, seeking salvation in the grave-like ditch. War thundered overhead as gunpowder sparked and chorused above. The soldier turned his silver eyes over the mud—to the cemetery of barbed wire and bruised corpses.

A high-pitched scream wailed distantly from two warring steeds tethered together. He watched the blood-stained Roan shriek and kick as it fell into the sea of barbed wire; the moon-kissed Arabian jolted from the tearing spikes, her gas mask hanging from bloodied leather, not knowing whether to die quietly or while struggling.

From Guest Contributor Mikayla E. Gruber

Mikayla is currently writing a fantasy/sci-fi novel and studying English and German at Pikes Peak Comunity College. She is also working towards a CPDT-KA Certification.