Red Sun Red Man

Summer was over and so were we, the red sky on that fateful September day marked the end of our labor.

I clutched my stomach and laid on the floor, a searing pain burning through my body, the poison taking effect. I tried lifting myself up to look around but could not, my limbs barely responding to any input my brain sent over. But I could not bring myself to give up, not yet.

The desperation I felt was palpable and my will to live was as strong as my faith. So in what seemed like an endeavor that took me hours, I got back to my feet. I felt the cold floor beneath me tremble and sweat dripped down my forehead profusely.

I looked around for Jeremiah. My eyes scanned the courtyard for the redhead with the bushy beard, but the sheer number of bodies covering the floor made it far too difficult, not to mention my vision remained blurry, my breaths hollow. I slowly but surely took a couple steps forward, pain imbuing itself into my every movement.

“Lara…” a sweet voice groaned from behind me.

“Miss Tannon?”

I turned to look at the old woman, laying on the floor. She always had been so sweet to me, she reminded me of my own grandmother before she joined the Lord, earlier this year. Everyone in camp mourned her loss, and that's how I became close with Miss Tannon, she comforted me in my darkest time. We went on numerous walks this summer, we would tread through the forests and valleys of this beautiful place in joyous conversation or pleasant silence.

“I see you are back on your feet…” she smiled at me, her eyes filled with love. I almost teared up at the sight of her.

“You are still awake, Miss.”

“I am. And here I thought I would be one of the first to go. These old bones seem to be sturdier than I thought they were.”

I continued to look around, some of us were twitching and moaning in pain still. This was not how it's supposed to go.

“It seems that some have not succumbed to the poison so easily. At this rate nothing will happen when night comes” I said.

“Indeed” she chuckled, “I for one blame that soup you made for me.” She coughed up some blood.

I remembered this one day, weeks ago, she was feeling under the weather. I came over to her cabin and cooked some chicken soup for her while she lay in bed. She ate it all and after lightly wiping her mouth with a napkin she said:

“Lara, you are a terrible cook!”, she then ranted for over fifteen minutes on how my soup failed to be good on every aspect that a soup needed to be good on.

We laughed about it, and even though she clearly appreciated the gesture, she never let me cook for her again. Actually, it was a running joke around camp to not let me near the kitchen, and after this little incident I was taken off cooking duties completely.

Remembering things like these makes me smile. How I wish time wouldn’t pass sometimes. I laughed with an old woman one last time as I approached her and knelled next to her with great difficulty.

“The statue, Miss Tannon…”

“Jeremiah didn’t complete the spell, the coward has run into the woods behind the image of our Lord…” she sighed. “We have failed, dear.”

I turned toward the statue of the Lord. A great stone shaped like the perfect man, skinless, with his arms stretched in an inviting manner, calling us into his warm embrace. His eyes, without eyelids, saw the truth of the world and in all of us. I felt his gaze upon me and I suddenly turned away in shame.

“I should've known, I should’ve known! Jeremiah was never fit to carry the will out. It's my fault, I should’ve stepped into his place the day he was chosen!”

“You cannot blame yourself my dear Lara. The Lord's machinations are as perfect as he. It was the traitor who turned his back away from us. It was Jeremiah who left us here in despair”, Miss Tannon said as she wiped the tears off my cheeks.

“No. Not if I can do anything about it…”. I kissed the old woman’s forehead and lifted myself from the blood stained floor. Miss Tannon smiled at me once again.

“I believe in you…my sweet Lara…” she said as she closed her eyes, passing away.

The rage I felt strengthened my body with new found energy. The hatred I felt toward the traitor grew sharper as I walked through the bodies of all those I loved.

Harald the butcher, Linda his wife. Always on the ready to provide fresh meat to those in need. Susan, the librarian, who instructed the young lings in the ways of the Lord. My dearest friends, Lilly and Jackson, lay dead on the floor, holding each other, their eyes and mouths full of blood, blood that dripped down and traveled through the little carved pathways in the courtyard toward the statue. We had all done our part, all worked for each other and for the way of the Lord. I would not let it all be in vain.

I followed the trail of black blood towards the forest past the statue. The spell consisted of Jeremiah stabbing himself with the sacred blade to call the Lord upon the world and bring peace to all, but alas he would not do the deed. Our leader, Saffran, tried to complete it but was killed by the traitor. I pulled the blade off dear Saffran’s skull, and continued on my path to vengeance.

The trail leading to Jeremiah was short, for the wound Saffran had inflicted on him was deep. I went on quietly, ignoring the pain. And then I saw him, near the river, clutching the wound on his stomach, talking to himself, or rather talking to a strange rectangle made of dark materials.

“I need backup goddammit!” he screamed at the rectangle. “Now! I need it now! We have to stop this, it's not over yet!”

“I'm telling you the choppers cannot find the spot! The woods are too dense, it's like there's some sort of thing jamming our radars!” said a strange voice that came from the black rectangle.

Jeremiah broke down in tears. “Oh god…Oh god...” he said.

“Calm yourself soldier!” said the voice. “You can still do this, you have to keep moving or we’re all done for.”

He did not hear me behind him. His panicked wheezing was too loud.

“Y-yes sir, I will…Please…please tell my family- -” said Jeremiah as I slashed his throat.

“Private? Private!?” said the voice in a worried tone.

“Begone demon…” I said, throwing the black rectangle into the river.

Using the blade, I carved out the traitor's heart. His blood was black as night, for he had been made to drink the Lord’s blood before taking part in the spell. Dark vile dripped from my hand as I carried the organ back to the courtyard. The pain had become unbearable, my feet, bare as the day I was born , were cold and bloody like the stone floor. I was barely managing to drag myself back to the Lord’s statue, I felt my life draining.

I remembered my times with Miss Tannon, my evenings lazing around with Lilly and Jackson before the world became so red, I miss those times. My emotions almost made me regret what I was about to do, but I persisted, for summer was but a fleeting memory in the eternal grace of the Lord.

I squeezed the traitor's heart, blood bursting through flesh and arteries. The black liquid it carried flowed along the paths to the statue, and as the sun finally set, it all went dark. A darkness never seen, even in the hearts of lesser men and women, a darkness that will bring forth the true light that will bathe the world.

In this darkness I felt the last of the poison invade my heart and brain and I began to close my eyes. From the void arose the Lord, skinless and scarlet as the sunset, muscle fibers shining along with his beautiful eyes. He looked at me, and I think he smiled. Though how could a simple believer like myself even begin to understand the simple emotions of a being so superior. What does a smile even look like in the face of a god with no lips.

“Well done my child.” I heard.

I closed my eyes. It is done. I have saved the world.

Thank you for believing in me.