by P. J. Day
“Dammit, I told you not to look,” Cindy said, still keeping her eyes focused on the darkness.
Faint whistling overtook the silence and came out from the direction where Keelen thought she saw the bear. As it neared, it became more distinctive. A mysterious pair of lips whistled Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World.
Staring into the slight haze between where she stood and the slope of the hill, Cindy narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?” she asked loudly.
“You’re standing in my shot,” the man’s voice carried far, unmistakably Southern.
A man appeared, slightly overweight and wearing a finely tailored, white suit with a black tie and a matching fedora. He carried a tripod with him, which he began to set up in front of the girls, and clamped what appeared to be, a highly expensive camera on its top.
Keelen turned around, scrunched her eyes and asked, “Mr. Click? Is that you?”
“Hello there, Ms. Grant. We meet again, auspiciously, this time, I may say.”
“What do you want? How’d you get up here?” Keelen blared.
“I should be asking both of you that question,” he said, peering into the camera. “You...the Asian girl...what’s your name?”
Cindy asked Keelen, “Is that your former boss? The gallery guy?”
Keelen nodded, befuddlement riddling her face.
“What do you want?” Cindy yelled back at Thomas.
“Can you please move away from the area? Say around twenty-five paces to the right? I know, a big number, but I wish to take a picture of Ms. Grant by herself. Oh my...” he blurted. “...he’s in real bad shape, ain’t he?” said Thomas, as Logan’s body appeared in his viewfinder.
Keelen looked straight into Cindy’s eyes and said, “Just do as he says. He’s just a harmless drunk. All he wants to do is take a picture. He’s probably just obsessed with his craft or something.”
Cindy walked away from Thomas’s desired shot.
“Look nice now, Ms. Grant. Your hair is rather matted, can you untangle it for me, please?”
Keelen rolled her eyes and straightened out her long, thick hair with two fingers, as if they were some clumsy, two-pronged brush.
“Smile, please. Pretend Prince Charming is standing right next to you.”
Keelen huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Thomas, this is stupid. Why are you up here, harassing us? Is this some sort of sick revenge? Can’t you see there are more important things to worry about?” she tearfully whined, pointing toward the sky.
“Smile!” Click’s voice boomed, taking on a beastly inflection.
Keelen put her hands in her pocket, feigned a casual stance, and forced a smile.
“There...” Click said. “One more...stand still...good…good, got it.”
“Now, can I stand next to my friend?” Cindy asked, concerned at the panic and distress that quickly overtook Keelen’s forced grin.
“Sure,” Thomas said turning his back on his tripod. He connected the camera to a portable printer he had on top of a box he used to carry all of his equipment. “Let me just print some test samples and see how they look.”
Cindy stood next to Keelen and asked, “What the hell is this psycho doing?”
“I don’t know, but you heard that voice, right? Didn’t sound human, did it?” Keelen said, her moist eyes slightly fearful.
Thomas cleared his throat. He walked toward the girls, holding two prints in his hand, while staring at the glass and the chasm at his feet. “What happened here?” he said, with a slight chuckle.
“What do you want?” Keelen asked, somewhat guarded, pressing closer to Cindy.
Thomas examined both prints. “A Night on the Mount has been improved, I think,” he said, nodding his head.
“Can I see them?” asked Keelen.
Thomas proudly handed them over.
Keelen snatched them from his hand and looked at both pictures. Her eyes bulged and she fell to the ground in shock, slamming her knees on the glass. Cindy looked up at Thomas, mouth open, clearly jarred.
One picture had Matthew Nix, smiling and holding Keelen by her waist. The other had Logan Drake giving Keelen a peck on her cheek. Keelen exhaled, she looked up at Thomas and held back tears.
“What is this? What kind of cheap trick are you pulling?” she asked, grinding her teeth.
“Cheap? Look at the quality, it’s anything but cheap. I don’t like putting people in my pictures, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity,” Thomas said, with a wide grin. “So, which one do you like more?”
“What?” Keelen asked, still on her knees.
“Who do you choose, Ms. Grant? The fate of the world is now in your hands.”
“Who are you?” Cindy asked. “How can you make such a declaration?”
“Someone you’ve inadvertently helped.”
“How so?” asked Cindy.
“At harvest, I was supposed to receive a certain allotment of souls as part of the Concord. The most despicable, disgusting, and vile of all souls. Just a few though...”
“...wait a minute, are you?” asked Cindy.
“Hades, Sheol, Beelzebub, Lucifer, the Devil, Satan?”
Keelen stared at Click with slight disgust.
“No,” said Thomas. “Names...names...labels...labels.”
“So, who are you?”
“I really don’t want to get into it, as we don’t have much time. The hole above us is about to close, and once it does, the portal to Caeli will close, forever, shutting out this plane away from that plane,” he said, while pointing at the sky.
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” asked Keelen.
“Yes and no,” Click said. “Earth will wither and die without a steady valve that can release the pressure in the valley of souls. As of right now, you’ve somehow managed to obstruct that process’s valve. We are standing over it. This glass isn’t helping any, and my plane is overflowing right now. I can’t go about my duties while the underworld faces an overpopulation problem inside this planet’s core. It’s too much to explain at the moment. We’ll talk later, if we were to meet again.”
“Why’d you try tempting me at the gallery?” Keelen asked, forcefully. “That was slimy.”
“Ms. Grant, aside from the fact that I think you’re a hot little number, and I’d submit myself to the common good for a month so I could have one night with you, let’s just say I recognized your lineage, and what you represent to the Prophecy, and the potential damage you could’ve done to my part of the agreement,” Click said, as he licked his dry lips with his forked tongue. “But as always, everything ended up going my way. Now, back to our little deal. Who do you love more, Ms. Grant?”
Keelen stared at both pictures. She looked at Cindy, then at Thomas. “Is this some sort of test?”
“Not a test, but decision of fate.”
“But I love them both in their own way. With Matt, I miss his touch, his body. The way he used to hold me. With Logan, I miss his gentle soul, his philanthropy, his selflessness; he was an example to all. Yes, I do wonder what it could have been like to be with him, romantically, but he means more to me than the possibility of that.”
“What if she loves them both the same?” asked Cindy.
“Humanly impossible,” said Click. “Since you seem to be struggling, let me level with you, Ms. Grant. I’m giving you the choice of bringing one of these men back to life. But your choice will have consequences. Ones I cannot discuss in detail, as they could alter your decision. However, I can tell you a little of what’s to come. If you choose Matthew Nix, Logan Drake’s fate will be sealed and Caeli will deal with him accordingly, and Earth and humanity will temporarily fall back to its natural state, a state that with your savage nature, I feel, will not be able to handle long term.”
“Natural state?” Cindy asked. “What is our natural state? To be ruled, conquered? Slaves?”
“I cannot say more than I have,” Click said, as he gazed up at the clouds. “Now, you also have the option
to be with Mr. Drake. If you choose the demigod, all of this plane will be yours. Earth will be your kingdom, and you shall rule it how you see fit alongside your eternal prince. But your friend here or humanity will no longer be at your side. They shall be consumed by whatever fate throws their way.”
Panicked, Cindy looked at Keelen. “What the...” she then turned toward Click. “Why does she get this choice? I love her, she’s my friend, but who the hell is she and why is it up to her?”
Click exhaled and laughed. “Look, Ms. Grant, look at the power you now hold. It’s a rather easy decision, don’t you think? To be among the gods?”
Keelen crouched and gripped her scalp, stress consumed her. Who the hell am I to deserve such a choice? she thought. She shook her head and looked up at Thomas. “Are these choices true?”
Thomas nodded.
“How do I know you’re not deceiving me?”
“I already have what I wanted. It’s time to give back. Also, it’s a way of getting back at my rivals,” he grinned, eyes turning neon red, pupils thinning, reptile-like.
The sky above started to crackle. Lightning illuminated the sides of the mountain. Cindy grabbed Keelen’s arm and yelled, “Don’t leave me.”
“Shut up, Cindy,” Keelen said, swiping her arm away from her grasp as she stood up and paced the glass floor.
Cindy stepped away and began to tear up. “He’s tempting you, Keelen.”
“Hurry, Ms. Grant. The gate is closing.”
She loved Cindy and adored Matt, despite his aloof behavior and at times, how self-centered he seemed. I’m no goddess, she thought. I’m a wannabe actress from Canada. Logan had never loved her for being above everyone. He had said so himself in their conversations. There was no corruption in her heart. Absolute power always corrupted. What Thomas proposed was a trick.
The wind raged, capable of rupturing eardrums if one were to tilt their head at a precise angle. Keelen walked up to Thomas, squared her shoulders, and puffed her chest. “I choose Matt,” she yelled, spittle flying in his face, her voice shrill, louder than the thunderclaps above.
“Are you sure, Ms. Grant?” Thomas yelled over the howling wind.
“Yes,” Keelen shouted. “I choose Matthew Nix.”
Thomas bowed his head and tipped his hat. The debonair sin-master, who claimed to be neither an evil deity nor the prince of darkness, let Keelen Grant, a simple woman with the lucid and transparent intentions that seamlessly streamed through her heart make the grandest decision of all. With a flicker, Thomas Click disappeared. Then lightning struck the glass, sending both Cindy and Keelen toward the ground. The glassed floor that previously seemed impenetrable began to shake and crack.
A bright light, as if an atom bomb detonated a few yards away, overwhelmed their senses. Sound, time, and space were rendered insignificant. Keelen and Cindy felt disembodied. Nothingness overtook their minds. Descent followed.
—oOo—
Keelen and Cindy opened their eyes. They stood inside a pit of darkness, the bowels of Mount San Antonio. Faint light trickled in from the top. Two men stretched out before them. One of them, bronzed, naked, and shivering, was positioned on his side on a collection of wet, stone steps. The other one, slender, pale and glowing, stood in front of a golden chest. A tabernacle of sorts.
“Keelen?”
“Matt?” Keelen rushed to assist the nude, shivering pugilist and draped herself over him. “It’s okay,” she said, massaging his cheek, tears streaming down hers. “I love you. I brought you back. I made the right choice…I know it in my heart. ”
Logan Drake stood in front of the tabernacle. His head wound was still visible. Keelen reached out for him as she comforted Matt in her arms.
“Once I open this chest, things are going to be different,” Logan said, his back still facing the group. “Remember what Adonai’s son has always said: ‘Forgive your enemies. Love your enemies. Love your neighbors.’ He was right. Once I leave you all and make sure your plane continues, those words couldn’t be truer.”
“Logan, come down from there. Join us,” said Keelen.
“No, Keelen. I can’t. The gate to Caeli is closing. I will either be received or challenged. But you shall no longer be slaves,” he said.
Logan opened the tabernacle. They saw him levitate a few feet before their vision was consumed by yet another blinding light.
They yelled and writhed. Pulsing and pounding pain infiltrated their skulls. The transition to Man’s original mental state was both dramatic and horrifying. The 2,000-year-old curse was lifted.
On the outer rim of the caldera, Keelen’s deep blue eyes opened. She laid flat on her back and saw Logan’s body disappear through the cloud’s center. The gate to Caeli closed with a whimper. The clouds dissipated as if they were at the conclusion of a light rainfall and mundane rays of sunlight soon followed.
Keelen wailed and curled into a fetal position. “What have I done?” she yelled. “I’m so sorry, Theolodus. I didn’t know.”
Cindy got her knees and began to whimper as she started slapping her chest in a bizarre ritual of self-inflicted physical punishment. Seeing what Cindy was doing to herself, Matt ran up to her and squeezed her tightly. “Stop hitting yourself,” he urged. “What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”
As the mental fog lifted from everyone’s consciousness, Keelen remembered her past life with Theolodus. Their child. She immediately recollected their time together in ancient Macedon. She remembered his touch, his kisses and the way he’d made love. Also, seashells. She recollected dozens of them strewn about the floor of their small home. She used them as fasteners for her dresses and his shirts, as primitive buttons. The ones he’d collected and brought to her from the sands. A flurry of memories overwhelmed her as well as the rest of humanity. Too much, too soon. Too fast to process for some. Some went mad, while others embraced the newfound revelation.
For many days, everyone who survived the attempts of the Rapture spent their time not rebuilding their homes, their communities, not their cities. No, the rebuilding of nations and governments came much later. Instead, much of humanity spent those first initial days, after the revelation, rebuilding their consciousness, the way they felt about each other, the way they felt about themselves.
Logan Drake and Adonai’s son, about whom scholars debated for many years to come—whether they were one and the same—were absolutely correct in their theology. If humankind was to survive the recollections of their past and the transgressions committed throughout the multitudes of their past lives, forgiveness needed to bind and absorb like oxygen, flow like water, and fill like sky.
As foretold by the Sunset Prophecy, the young man with the desire to help those less powerful than himself ascended and became a sanctified memory—a memory that was quickly overshadowed with a sudden knowledge that brought forth, the pain of man’s original sins.
Across from the group on the edge of the scorched hillside, Thomas Click placed his equipment back inside the case he had carried with him up the mountain. With pity, he stared at the suffering before him, shook his head and softly said, “Knowledge and pain, one in the same…” He placed the fedora back on his head, picked up his case and before disappearing into the haze, he added, “…but it is just oh, so appetizing.”
THE END
To be continued…
The Sunset Edict (Love & Armageddon #2)
(ETA: Spring 2013)
King’s Blood The Complete Vampire Thriller also available for sale on
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"Hip. Relevant. Darkly funny. Day's vampires offer a unique perspective on what it means to be human. A fantastic new series."
-J.R. Rain, author of Moon Dance and Dark Horse
About the Author
www.pjdaybooks.com or www.kingsblood.com
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Acknowlegment
Thank you Jon, for showing me that fear is nothing more t
han just an abstract thought. Grateful thanks to Eve Paludan (editor) and Kristen Midha for their amazing work in making sure The Sunset Prophecy is not an incoherent mess. It still could be, but the odds of it being so, have been lessened tremendously. Thank you J.R Rain, H.T Night, Scott Nicholson, and Aiden James, you guys are studs. Also, thank you to the communities of r/writing & r/writersgroup on reddit.com I’ve lurked and learned, and your harsh judgmental downvotes have kept me on my toes as a writer. The knowledge the community offers is all a writer will ever need.
Special Thanks
(Sunset Alpha Team)
I’d like to thank you all for your brutal honesty and for hanging in there despite the delays and the speed bumps. To Christina, Terisa, Savannah, Denise, Patty, Susan, Clare, Leslie, Lisa, Sara, Kristen, & Lori, I appreciate you guys from the bottom of my heart.