Divine Children

Sensitive Content: Religious/doomsday cults, psychological abuse, indoctrination, mentions of animal slaughter, and mass murder/suicide by suffocation.

He told them the harvest died on Monday. Then on Tuesday, the water was tainted. On Wednesday, the air became toxic, with more smoke and ash than oxygen. By Thursday, most life wouldn’t be able to sustain itself. Now Friday is the day it would all come to an end. At least, that’s what He told them. The Lord of the Divine Children, as He is known, has cultivated His garden of devoted followers over the past months, providing the community these lonely souls so desperately craved, and in return, they offer their unwavering devotion and blind trust. He has trained, perfected, and domesticated His congregation with as much freedom as a Friesian in its bit and blinders. But He has prophesied their true freedom. So long as they stay by His side, they will be free of their mortal flesh while the rest of the world rots away in a Heavenly apocalypse. 

Now, here, they await the time of freedom and of rapture, where they will rejoice with their all-knowing Lord for an eternity of only His truest believers in the bright paradise of Heaven. The place where they wait is a bunker of sorts, but they refer to it as His ‘temporary palace’ until He may reclaim His throne. There is little there but enough food and water for two weeks, one thin blanket and pillow for each follower, a system of pipes running across the ceiling, and a single flipclock that once began at thirteen days, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-nine seconds. Why two weeks, one might ask. The first week was His final test, a way to weed out the final few unworthy members whom He felt did not deserve their ultimate reward. Those who could not handle His palace on Earth had no place by His side in paradise. Some could not handle the rationing of supplies; others went mad with claustrophobia, and the worst of them all began to question whether the end would come at all, but they were all the same to Him, ungrateful heretics. 

Now, that clock reads:

00:00:59:32

One hour until the world meets its end. What does one do while awaiting salvation? The schoolman gathers the handful of children to lead them in prayer and song. The same songs of reverence and worship for their Lord that the youngest of them have known since birth. Few children have made it this far, but the ones who remain were either brought in by their parents or were born most pure in His presence. Either way, they are all too young to know anything but His grace. No regular school to brainwash their malleable minds, no technology to tempt them to greed or jealousy, and no friends but the congregation to keep them obedient and loyal. 

In the singular private room, He stands unnervingly still, eyes shut in deep meditation in preparation for their final service. Two barefoot women in plain white smocks work wordlessly around Him. They pull a crisp white robe around His willowy frame and drape a fiery red stole over His shoulders, handmade for this very moment. 

00:00:40:28

The children have been dressed in their finest frocks, though they remain modest and humbly plain. The women prepare an altar for the coming service. With so little space, they must make do with a clean linen sheet over a fold-out table, but it is not the material that creates a holy space. It is Him. A white candle rests upon each corner, carved with His holy markings in the wax, and a golden paten rests in the center, not yet filled with their final communion. 

The men prepare the last and largest portion of their rations. Their last supper before enlightenment. Two men carry the slabs of meat to the ‘kitchen’, which is little more than a table, a water basin, and a small fireplace. The butcher unwraps the raw meat on the wooden table to cut it into cubes. When it is all cut and ready to serve, they dish it into the paten, ready for its blessing.

00:00:30:45

The service has begun.

Every member, young and old, has awaited this moment since their journey began, and they know their love and dedication will soon be repaid. The congregation sits on the floor of the bunker, a sea of white in the candlelight, and a hush falls over them when He enters. The only noise now is the repetitive flip of the clock numbers.

“My divine children,” He announced, “we are gathered here today to celebrate, to rejoice, and to prepare our hearts, minds, and bodies for our ultimate reward. You have all proven yourself worthy to me, and you shall be saved from this pitiful life.” He outstretched His arms to the congregation. The volume of His voice rises with His passion. “The world outside of my palace walls has descended into chaos and ruin to match its wretched population, but you are here. You are the chosen few who have seen through the lies of those who pretended to care for you. No one has ever loved you the way I do, and no one ever will. Nothing and no one can replace the love of your God on Earth.”

He lifts the paten and utters a blessing over the sacred meat. One of the young boys takes the paten when offered and passes it around the crowd. Each person takes one piece and savors each bite of the raw meat. This is their sacrament. As the communion is passed around, He cloaked Himself in the soft hide of the slaughtered lamb, watching as their teeth gnaw at the innocent flesh. 

00:00:20:51

The now-empty plate has made its way back to the altar, the blood of the lamb smeared at the bottom. Now, with one spindly finger, He swipes through the blood and brings it to His lips, savoring the taste. “The time draws nearer.” He tilts His head to the ceiling, eyes closed. “All life outside my palace has now been destroyed. Nothing remains but you and me. Feel it! Embrace my love as it flows through you!” The words echo against the thick metal walls. 

At His command, a handful of followers began to twitch and spasm against the floor in religious ecstasy. Like a virus, it spreads across the congregation until they are all reduced to mindless, gargling creatures. They feel His power in their bones, their organs, their very souls, and this is what He revels in—complete and utter control. 

While in their scattered states, He steps further back from the altar where an industrial valve sits on the wall, the single thing they were forbidden to touch. With a hard tug to the right, the pipes all along the ceiling give a groan and a hiss. 

00:00:05:32

The congregation only grows more feverish and fervid as they reach a fever pitch in their psychotic praise. Some become exhausted by the overwhelming power, but none can find it in themselves to stop. 

He pulls the valve further, roaring praise and command over their deafening reverence.

00:00:00:59

They fight the growing ache in their muscles. The fog in their brains. All for Him. The thrashing has devolved them into writhing worms at the feet of a mighty bird as they fight the burning in their lungs and the heaviness of their eyelids.

00:00:00:10

He lifts Himself sluggishly onto the table to lie flat in the center of the altar. His eyes shut, prepared for release.

00:00:00:05

All but a handful of followers lie still at last. The few who remain pray for a final time for their salvation, gasping for breath through every word.

00:00:00:00

Silence. The timer stops flipping, and the air hangs still.

The candles blow themselves out.

Their souls have been saved from the fate the rest of the world endured. Escaping the pain and suffering of the end of the world.

In here, they have given their lives for the ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate reward.

Out there, farmers tend to their crops, children play in the rain, a child takes its first breath, and 8 billion people go about their lives just as they did the day before. They live blissfully unaware of what has happened today in this place. 

In a few days, months, years, however long it takes, all that will be found in here is a bunker of bodies clad in matching garb, an empty tank of carbon monoxide, and deathly silence.