“I only wish to confabulate with you, brother, but do as thou wilt.”
Belphegor waved his hand and images of humans on Earth appeared before him upon cloud-like wisps. The light of the wisps lit up the top half of Belphegor’s face, showing his black, malice-filled eyes. The wisps dissipated and reformed, revealing new images of different humans with each wave of his hand.
Abaddon paid no mind to the discoveries of his brother, while he stared off into the void putting his skeletal arm underneath his cloak.
Many images of humans in pain or misery graced the wisps to Belphegor's delight, and a smile grew upon his face. One of the wisps had an image of a black male crying over a crib and a black female crying behind him.
While unlit, Belphegor could see it was a nursery that the humans had constructed for their little one, with a mobile of the planets adorning the crib. Standing near the entryway the woman had a slight bump around her midsection.
As perfect as this situation was to Belphegor, what made it better was that they were both hurting. Even though an issue such as this wasn’t his department, it wouldn’t stop him from coaxing their misery.
Belphegor reached toward the wispy images and brought his hands back toward himself. In a rush, the wisp grew, engulfing the room where Belphegor and his brother were. Now he could see every detail of the nursery.
Abaddon turned his gaze from the abyss, revealing a face black and formless as the abyss he stared into. Fiery red his eyes burned watching his brother meddle.
The sounds of the humans’ wails filled the chasm, and because they were so absorbed by what they lost, they didn’t realize a cold chill had come into the room. Belphegor braced himself, then trudged into the whisp, looking back, seeing he had his brother’s attention.
Standing behind the woman, he was invisible to her. With a flit of his hand, both Belphegor and his brother could hear the many thoughts coursing through her mind.
“Why did this happen to us? We did everything right. I wanted to give my husband a boy. He was in perfect health. We hired the best doctor in the city. Why God?”
Belphegor leaned in. “Why, God, indeed? You may have the same problem when you try again.”
A chill ran down her back whilst her crying intensified.
“What kind of God would allow this to transpire?”
As the woman exhaled a meager bit of steam came from her mouth, but she was none the wiser as she continued obsessing on the thoughts Belphegor had just placed in her mind.
With another two flits of his wrist, Belphegor silenced her thoughts and made her husband’s audible.
“She was in perfect health. I did everything I could to help her for six months, and it wasn’t enough!” The man went on, paying no mind to his wife behind him as she drowned herself in tears. “My boy is gone. Why God? The baby was in perfect health.”
Belphegor made his way toward the man, engorging himself on their woe.
“How did she let our son die?” It’s her fault. I wanted a son!”
A bright flash came from outside, where no less than a mile away, a lightning bolt struck, illuminating the back of Belphegor’s head as he swayed from side to side like a composer at a symphony. “May you never again know the comfort of your wife’s loving embrace. How could you? She killed your child.”
The man stood up and walked past his wife.
“Where are you going?” the woman asked.
Stopping at the doorway, he didn’t as much as look at her. “I’m going to get some food.”
As he made his way out the door the woman bawled.
Belphegor stood there, basking in the sadness, but soon grew tired of them. He walked back through the wisp to his oversized chair and plopped down, making the ground tremble. “If those on high only knew what they were missing out on, brother.” Waving his hand once more, the wispy images dissipated.
“They…know not…of these joys, brother…Our Father’s Father would have them be grateful…they lost their child.”
“It never ceases to amaze me how His followers follow Him so blindly, with faith, they call it.”
“You shouldn’t be disconcerted, brother…. Most of the flock have been led to believe the others…held in high esteem.”
“The humans you speak of are being ousted from their positions of power, daily.”
A cold wind blew as Abaddon emerged from the great shadow. His skin similar to charcoal, while his eyes raged like the flames that danced around them, nestled deep inside gaunt sockets. He drew a breath, as airy and slothful as his Department. “Our followers encompass the realms…and those in places of power will only be replaced…by those who…follow our doctrines…. Mammon has worked…tirelessly to entice humans to be obsessed with…ungodly wealth. They’ve fallen into our hands just as they always have.”
Belphegor pounded his armrest. “Ha! Mammon has lost his touch, Abaddon. We’re not supposed to be of blind faith. Have you cast your gaze to the humans atop the pyramid? They have become so consumed with amassing wealth that even the most imbecilic of humans are waking up. And Mammon as the head of the Department of Greed is alone is to blame.”
“They’re too distracted to…care, brother. They’d rather occupy their time…concerned with who won the…big game. You’ve capitalized on that…brother. The Americans are particularly…corpulent.”
“And lazy. It would have been impossible if you hadn’t been so diligent, inspiring the humans to be such a slothful lot. But the wealthiest of humans can only keep themselves in the shadows for so long with the technological age making way with breakthroughs.”
“The humans making breakthroughs…are our own.”
Belphegor slammed his fist, making the chasm shake. “It makes no damned difference, Abaddon. Too many humans are waking up because Mammon oversteps his bounds! Brother, you of all demons must’ve noticed your job corrupting souls into sloth is getting harder.”
“Hmmm…my arch demons have been reporting more humans…ditching their televisions but I’ve also noticed many more being enticed…by what the humans call…opiates.”
“Yes, of course. I have marijuana to thank for the many munchie-induced food comas. It always darkens my day seeing them writhe in anguish on the toilet the next morning.”
Both Abaddon and Belphegor laughed, filling the chasm with low vibrations. Then, Belphegor clasped the armrest of his chair and stood as the fires raged, showing how rotund he was. His legs were rippling with muscle from carrying his bulbous body over the millennia, while his stomach hung over on all sides.
Trudging toward his brother, he clasped his thin shoulder. “Come. I must show you why I called you here.”
“Very well….” Abaddon floated behind Belphegor as he led them further into the darkness.
Belphegor waved his hand. Up came another wisp-like surface in front of them, and the light from it revealed a huge circular seal on the ground beneath them. Moving images of humans began appearing. “I’ve been keeping track of a human I know can help further our cause.”
“But…was it not just this last century you said you thought it foolish what the Creator does putting faith in humans? Anointing…chosen ones…you called it.”
“Indeed, before I laid eyes on this human and looked unto his heart, I never could contemplate why the Creator would put so much faith in a human.” Belphegor flicked his wrist to reveal images of a young Dawayne Long as he was busy gutting a rabbit with a blank look upon his face, unemotional, blood all over his hands.
“He’s only…a child,” Abaddon said, befuddled.
“He can be much more than just a mere child, my brother. He could be the one to bring back the days of Dark Sky.”
Chapter Three
Genesis
There were trees as far as Dante’s eyes could see while the boys headed deeper and deeper into the woods that morning.
“The blind I built is a little bit farther,” Dawayne said.
The trail they traversed had become barren
from all the feet that traipsed upon it over the years.
“Those people weirded me out,” Dante said.
“Ahh, they were just being nice.”
“I’m not so sure. Did you see the way they looked at us? It wasn’t just them being nice.”
“I didn’t see it that way, but they were a little odd, so I’ll give you that,” Dawayne said.
The smell of fresh pine graced their noses, and seeing as how it was the state tree, there were plenty of varieties, but some of them were gaunt and lifeless. Some trees had fallen a few years back alongside the trail and had rotted most of the way through, but what Dante noticed lightened his spirits. Someone had planted and cared for some beautiful red impatiens in the rotting logs alongside the trail, and as they kept walking, Dante noticed more and more of them decorating the path.
Dante smiled as he remembered how his mother taught him to prepare a log.
“You see, honey, it may seem backward but, because this tree is now dead, new life has the opportunity to spring from it.”
It hadn’t yet been a year since she was gone, but Dante couldn’t help but smile remembering what she had said.
Even though boundless opportunity lay ahead of them, Dante had a feeling of unease, but for what reason, he knew not.
As introverted as Dante was, there something about his friend Dawayne that both put him on edge and at ease. Maybe it was because he leapt before he looked, or maybe it was how he didn’t let others’ opinions of him cloud his vision. But whatever it was, in the short time they had been friends, no matter what they got themselves into, things seemed to turn out okay.
“Thar she blows,” Dawayne said.
Dante started noticing the deeper they went, the more life he could see. From the two squirrels chasing each other up a tree to the birds chirping, the forest was teeming with life. The trail then curved around a large oak that had dropped thousands of acorns over the last many years, and tiny trees had begun to grow.
Dawayne went and fastened the gun to a pulley system he had built while Dante gazed at the handiwork. From the look of it, Dawayne had lugged plywood and pallets of wood out there. It was only a few feet above their heads, but it looked solid, nestled in the oak tree.
“I built it on top of 5/4 board with plywood for the walls and the roof. Not too bad, eh?”
“It looks pretty sturdy.” And just as Dante said that he saw some not-so-sturdy footholds and handholds nailed to the side of the oak, which Dawayne had begun to climb.
“Come on up, buddy.”
It was spacious up there in the treehouse, with more than enough room for them to stand without the worry of hitting their heads, and in the front was an opening large enough to mount his gun. It also had a table large enough to stage and gut a kill. But the thought of blood running down the legs made his gut tighten once more.
While Dawayne was unpacking the gun, Dante looked at the locked trunk in the corner, and even though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer, Dante asked, “What’s in the trunk?”
“I can show you all that in a little bit,” Dawayne said, looking puzzled.
Dante admired the beauty of the weapon, running his hands across the butt, appreciating how Dawayne had kept the dark wood so smooth and how he had kept the brass buffed.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Dante responded.
Dawayne rubbed his hands over the barrel. “It’s a .357 lever-action repeating rifle.”
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.”
“It’ll be easier to show you.”
He grabbed the gun by the butt and told Dante, “This is the—”
“It’s the butt. Who doesn’t know that?”
“Okay, well, it’s actually called the stock, and this is the trigger,” Dawayne said, pointing to the trigger.
“Obviously,” Dante snipped.
“This is the sight, and this is the lever.”
“Okay, cool, does it have a safety?”
“Nope, what makes this gun safe is the lever. That’s what my dad told my mom, anyway, when I got it for Christmas last year.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah, she didn’t want to let me keep it at first, but after a month, she didn’t care.” Dawayne put the gun to his shoulder, showing how it’s held, then loaded it with ammunition.
He aimed at a tree about a hundred feet from the blind.
Bang!
“I thought you said it wasn’t that loud?!” Even still, Dante still had a smile on his face. It was exhilarating.
Dawayne put the rifle down on the table and re-opened his gun case. “I brought these in case you wanted them.”
“You should have given them to me earlier, dude.”
Dawayne chuckled and pointed at the tree he just shot at.
“See that?”
“Yeah, but don’t you have any targets or something else to shoot?”
“Nope, just trees and small game, or I’ll lose my gun.”
Standing in the marvel that was Dawayne’s treehouse, Dante was confused about how he had no targets to shoot, but he went along with it for now.
Dante put on the earmuffs as Dawayne asked, “Wanna give it a shot?”
Dante chuckled. “Sure.”
Dawayne handed Dante the gun as he stepped forward. Putting the rifle to his shoulder, Dante aimed toward the tree but before he fired, he asked, “Do I need to pump it again?”
“It’s a lever, and nope, since I already did it a few times.”
Dante aimed at the tree and, placing his finger on the trigger, took a deep breath, and pulled. Bang! It was a direct hit.
“Wow, you’re a natural.”
Dante took his earmuffs off and set the gun back on the table while his eyes were still plastered to the tree, observing what he had done to the tree. “You say something?” he asked.
“I said you are a natural.”
Dante began nibbling his bottom lip, still feeling the rush of power.
“What’s wrong, buddy? I thought you’d be more excited.”
Dante shook his head. “I thought I would be too, but I really don’t want to shoot the tree anymore.”
“Then you don’t have to. So, what do you want to do?”
“You want me to show you what’s in the trunk now?”
“Sure,” Dawayne said, grabbing it by the handle and pulling it next to the table.
Dante could smell a foul odor coming from it, but Dawayne seemed unperturbed.
Dawayne reached into his pocket to find a key and unlocked the trunk.
“Oh man, smells like something died,” Dante said, pinching his nose.
Dawayne took out a black bag, placing it on the table. Dawayne unfastened the Velcro then rolled out the bag, revealing a set of pristine knives, ranging from big to small.
The kit had them all tucked in their respective slits.
There’s got to be something dead in there, Dante thought as he got another whiff of foulness.
Dawayne closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over the knife’s hilts. He paid no mind to Dante, expecting his actions would be met with acceptance, then turned to see Dante holding his stomach, still looking toward the locker. Dawayne dove into the box, pulling out an orange shoebox.
Dawayne opened it, revealing a dead rabbit that had begun to rot. Maggots were wriggling through it.
“Dude, what the frick is that?” Dante asked.
“It’s a dead rabbit, what does it look like?”
“What’s it doing in there?”
Dawayne couldn’t understand why his friend had such a hard time accepting what he was seeing. “I was going to dissect and catalog what I find in my binder.”
“A little too late for that, don’t ya think? There are maggots all over the thing. Just give it here.”
“The box?”
“No, just the rabbit. Of course, I want the box, Dawayne.” Dawayne was perplexed, handing it to Dante.
“You want me to sho
w you the binder?” Dawayne asked.
“Sure, then I’m going to bury this little fella.”
Dawayne scrunched his brow as he tried to understand why Dante would want to bury the animal. Dante didn’t yet have words for it at the time, but he knew that rabbit’s life was worth more than just someone’s experiment or medical binder scribblings. He stood by the hatch as Dawayne pulled out the binder and began flipping through the pages.
Dante was appalled and impressed at the same time, while entranced by the detail in Dawayne’s drawings. He stood there with his mouth open, observing as Dawayne flipped from page to page, showing his dissections of animals.
“And…I do need to go check another trap I set a few days ago,” Dawayne said.
“Dude, all of this is really messed up. Like, I don’t want to know you do this stuff.”
For the past many years, Dawayne had been left to his own devices, so it wasn’t until this day that anyone gave their opinion on his habits. Still, a blank look graced Dawayne’s face as he tried to understand what would lead his friend to detest his behavior so.
Dawayne packed up the gun case, then connected it to the pulley system, letting it down until it rested atop a pile of leaves.
“I still don’t see why you want to bury the thing.”
“Anything is better than withering away in a box, dude.” Dante looked around for any divot in the ground perfect for a tiny box. After a minute, he found a fallen log so large and rotten that it just fell to pieces with a slight tap of his foot. He broke up enough of the rotten wood to make a shoebox-sized hole and buried the dead rabbit.
With thoughts and appreciation for the life that the rabbit had in Dante’s mind and heart, he pushed enough dead tree and soil to conceal the box.
“Alright, now to go check the trap,” Dante said as he got up, brushing the dirt from his knees.
Dawayne began leading the way, then looked back at Dante. “I’ve been setting these traps for the last few months. And the rabbit you just buried was the first one I caught.”
The birds that were once chirping seemed distressed, then both of the boys heard a shrill squeak off to the side of the trail. There were leaves rustling and being thrown about.
Dante & The Dark Seed Page 2