Xcu'Lu

The autumn leaves were shed, not a footstep for miles could be silent even in a greatest attempt. The moon shone prosperously on the land only broken by a looming overhead shadow every so often, and the breeze was borrowed from the south lending its earthy scent. My cabin was the sole exception to the natural surrounding forest, built sturdily of half oak logs in the walls, the patio was slightly elevated from the ground only a few inches though was also oak in material. The roof was once again oak, and once again half logs, but they were stained and weather worn leading them to be noticeably dark compared to the rest of the cabin.

Of Xcu’Lu I know little, only that one night I looked from the window in my roof, as I usually did to gaze at the stars above, and down the telescope I had so precariously propped against the frame of the window. For hours I sat sketching the star constellations again as normal, I had filled several sketch books already. The wildlife sang the song of the wild as they did every night, I could hear the deer and doe crunch on the orange leaves that kept me grounded from spacing into my work. A small sprinkle of rain began, I knew as I heard the drops hit the glass of the window, as it opened up and out from the house, and the gust of southern wind was once more returning home with more anger in its voice. The southern wind rattled the window with such intensity, that it had almost fallen down upon me, bringing the rain inwards toward me and my drawings. I hurried to move my books out of the rain, and close the window to ensure mine, and my work's safety. However as I reached for the window it happened.

A gleam from the glass of the telescope, lasting not even a tenth of a second, caught my attention. I set my sketch book, along with my pencils, gently aside and glanced through the glass. Through the glass I happened upon a shape in the sky, I saw only long enough to see it dancing among the infinite black, voiding the stars out of the sky and at the same instance I happened upon the dancing shape, I felt a splinter in my head, like glass chipping when introduced to a small pebble. In that same mili-instance, what I believe to be flashes of visions or memories began to flood my mind. A world engulfed in flames and cracked open, burning from the core like a furnace, sirens bellowed from the sky and echoed throughout the streets as the roads filled with blood and a giant feather, I gauge to be the size of the entirety of my home state Kansas, shining brightly and gently descends from the sky, on to what I believe to be the forest in which I reside.

I reached for my sketch pad once more, fighting the bile that burned as it tried in such a vicious attempt to eject from my throat. It felt as though my consciousness was loose, as though I was not completely here. Nonetheless I began sketching the shape in my book. I found it almost comical that beside the page I had just sketched the night sky in, was the same night sky now with a big black blob of ink that vaguely resembled the shape. The telescope caught my eye once more, though I have the utmost serious head splitting pain, I couldn’t help but feel the call of the scope beckoning for my sight again. I rose from my seat thinking better of it. However as I had reached the wooden door to the attic, I heard clanking and banging from below me in the kitchen, followed by the heavy thump of footsteps coming toward the attic. The footsteps turned from slow and casual, to rapid and ascending, the thunderous thumping of feet upon the wooden staircase as though it saw me from the bottom and was rushing toward me. I saw no one on the stairs but I knew better than to trust my eyesight at the moment. I threw the wooden door shut, with a heavy slam it hit the door frame, and I bolted the locks in their sockets, it seemed to have ceased its running just on the other side of the door, though under the door I saw no shadow, nor foot. I kept a rifle in a case amongst some boxes up there, I backed away from the door ever so silently and toward the loosely kept boxes that, as luck would have it, were across from the telescope still protruding from the window. I ignorantly traversed with no care passed the telescope, and when I happened to glance for an inconceivably small amount of time, at the glass of the scope, I caught a spec of light reflecting from the night sky. And again I felt my mind physically splinter in a spiderweb like pattern, it was no longer just a chip in the pane, now it was though the pane was close to shattering.

My brain numbed for a split moment, causing me to fall forward into the carelessly boxes that I now see have no gun case amongst them. I had forgotten I gave the firearm to my youngest boy as a going away present, how could I forget about my boy? I hope he does well wherever he is. Brushing the dust off of me I left the boxes, I threw the telescope to the ground, shattering the glass out of both ends, picking my sketch book up, I ferociously ripped the page with the ink splotch, crudely attempting to portray the shape, out. Small clicks or gusts of wind make themself prevalent in the air, I pause for a moment mostly in fear but also anticipation, as the clicks and wind turned to voices with no mouths, just as I couldn’t see the feet that made the steps, I saw not the lips that spoke to me.

I could only seldom make out what was being said, something ‘outside’ and ‘here’, there was also something about a ‘he’ of some kind, though I got no more information on ‘he’. I unbolted the door, and swung it open, racing down the stairs into the open bottom floor. I fetched my rifle from the kitchen and loaded it with .30 Winchester rounds. Then the loud pattering of rain, growing heavier and heavier, the southern wind returning in full force as the rain swirled around the cabin, I practically kicked the door open and entered the courtyard of green green grass, the tall trees laughed at me as I raised my rifle to the sky. Rain poured all over my face and clothes, my eyes blinded by water. I could not get a clean shot into the open air, though through the rain shone bright light. I moved my eye from behind the iron sight of the rifle and saw a ball of light gently descending towards me.

My eyes focus for a split second, and in that split second my mind, feebly human, shattered into less than remnants.

Matthew spent his remaining days in Paranoia county’s insane asylum, he never regained the ability to talk or think ever again. His only child, his daughter, decided to pull his plug. Believing to be kept alive by machines, is to never live at all.