Visions of Rapture

The priest sat on the side of the bed. What would he do? It was 1914... 1915... maybe 1916? And he had been excommunicated. He was a healthy man. In his prime--his late teens, ready for stuff before the world hit its twenties. Assuming there was a twenties. The world was in a fairly dastardly war right now. Back before Christmas my left foot!

Having been excommunicated, he may not be able to stave back the chance he may be drafted into the military. "It is the end of the world" he sobbed a bit.

The girl next to him in the bed, stirred up a bit. She was the odd sort--seemed like she smoked the devil's weed, but never had she ever been witnessed to do so. Neither had see ever been witnessed with the means to get it. This girl was rescued from a group of darker men. Strange men, who no doubt had abused her tender, soft silky white flesh--like she had begged him earlier to do so. Stirred up a bit she mentions, "that... that is rapture..."

Odd girl, I could rarely figure out what she was talking about at times. Still, of a particularly odd dress, she addressed conversations in a rather odd manner. Her mind, not yet fourteen had already been warped beyond what it should be able to take. Though she had cute ankles and elbows--so he would keep her with him. I mean, all girls are a tad bit loonie--his mother made certain to teach him that. Turning around, "what? The end of the world? That is a queer name to call such an event."

The girl stirred and got up in her usual manner. Her limbs moved at odd angles, flexing in ways most normal men did not--but she had been doing for the last two hours. He may have to put out his current tobacco  stick to start with her again. It was one of the most awe strucking oddly obscene sights he had seen. It was nearly something he'd expect only navy men would have to themselves. And, he had rescued her--rescued her all to himself. From the abuse that others gave, to the care for her soft creamy skin that he would give.

"It was like that vision--that vision... everybody is flying up into the sky. The blessed were taken from the world first. As those that came were merciful to their dedication, and took them from the world in above all others. As they were the better humans. The ones whose souls had an extra vim and valor to them. The ones they truly valued."

The man turned, "the end of the world?"

The girl continues her dance like crawl--not crawl, possibly more oozing along the bed. The man knew what the girl could do with the ability to bend, but he had to focus--this girl had a vision of how the world ends.He could work his way back into the church with this. He might get his own diocese for this little bit. "Who wins?", he said trembling a bit. Not certain if in fear or joy--what with the rather exotic and obscene show he was beholding.

The girl smiles--one that almost looked cruel but one of victory, "why,  The All Powerful God does--as always. The throne that all bow down to--the crawling chaos, the elements--creation beyond which we can behold and stay alive from the knowledge of the might of the universe we see before us."

The man privately hurrahs to himself. The devil will not win. The man just thinks to confirm, "so, when the day comes--"

The girl cuts him off, "the sky will open up for all to see--fire will look to emblaze the entire sky. The God that is that all powerful will have his servants come and take the truly good ones away. The ones that the servants want for themselves. Then next the world will be plunged into a fueled warm Ichor madness. The people will beg to be taken with those that were taken first. Some may be, once they have gained enough savoury traits--and an aura of powerful uncanny devotion to that which they bring. Most will be mercilessly tortured for eternity--and curse their poor choice to not follow in their wishes."

The man thinks for a bit--that sounds horrible. Well, the Book of Revelations did mention twelve tribes of twelve thousand. Though, he did not imagine the grueling torture those left as not favourable to the servants as a bit much. The man sits up and turns around, "who leads this? Whose face will we behold in this?"

The girl smiles and starts trusting her body in the air, "the one who brings the message of the most powerful god. The one who brings the true way. All will know him when they see him--and the ones left behind, will grimace and twist their faces in the dreadful horror as to what they regretted. It is Rapture."

The man jumps out of the room and heads into his study--he must write this down. A good and kind God clearly had given him this herald. With this knowledge--so many people could be spared horrid trouble. The torture will not be as severe.


The girl was sitting on the roof looking into the study through the wall--while her body contorted on the bed below. She smiled, and just speaks, "That which is dead, but dreams--waiting for the day that even death will die. May the Shog Yoggoth have a plentiful meal, when this Rapture comes."

The End

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