Short story intro: I hate zombies.


FunkyTown
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    I am looking in to the face of evil: Face to face with the Devil himself(I call him Lou), surrounded by all of his minions. I'm carrying a child in my arms - Someone that I won't let this creature touch, but I have no idea how I can stop him. I am looking at the dissolution of everything that makes me me and all I can think is just this:

  I hate zombies.

 

 

   I don't have that visceral reaction to anything else: Vampires are laughable, werewolves are painfully dull and mummies look like someone fell in a bandaid bin. Zombies scare me. Zombies fill me with revulsion for only one simple reason:

 

   Zombies are real.

 

   Romero was right. He was inspired. Sure, he might not have known why, but they exist.

 

   When someone leaves God - When they join His adversary, they give up everything that is good about them. They give up love. They give up hope. When they die(Or if they were never born), they cease to have drive or ambition. Zombies are like that. Zombies don't love; Zombies don't care. They exist solely to feed and to procreate, to spread their wretched condition on to as many people as possible. They do this not because it gives them pleasure to feed or to procreate - They do this because of a driving need, a hunger that will never be sated no matter how much they destroy. They move in packs not because of any sense of community or love of each other - They could care less if one is brought low - They move together only because of some base herd instinct and because they destroy more when they work together.

 

   They are everything that is human minus any sense of love or caring or higher purpose. They are the yawning void stretching their maws forth to destroy who they will.

 

   And I am facing many of them.

 

 

    My name is Mammon. Yes, that Mammon. I was the father of greed. I was one of them, bound to Earth by God above. I introduced the love of money to the world. I introduced sheer human avarice. By my word, nations rose up against one another and brother took arm against brother. My influence brought more suffering and human despair than any other single influence. By rights, I should be on the other side. I should be looking back at somebody else here. Somebody else should have this child and somebody else should be responsible for him.

 

 

    This child is Raphael - Angel who stirred the healing waters at Bethesda - The Archangel that Azazel sought to destroy. He was the kindest, gentlest, sweetest of all the archangels. He was one of the ones I always knew was earmarked by Lou for destruction. I always knew that intellectually and agreed with it, but it was always going to be a thousand years from now, or a million.

 

   Before all this happened - Before I was bound on this world, before the war, before I became synonymous with an all-devouring greed, I was an angel. Raffie was my best friend, my younger brother, and someone who I loved more than anything else. He tried to push me away from Lou, tried to warn me that what I was going in for. I didn't listen. I thought I was the smarter one. I was older. I knew better.

 

 

    Fast forward a handful of millenia and now I see Lou had been tracking his bloodline and seeking to turn his parents. He was being born in a drug den in the lower south side of Chicago. He'd have no 'Goodly parents'. No education. No opportunities to see the light. I couldn't let that happen.

 

   Not to him. Not to Raffie.

 

   I'd seen nations rise and fall, civilizations starve and clouded the minds of men with avarice since the dawn of time, but when I showed up to see his birth and saw that squalling little man, I couldn't do it. Not this. Something woke up in me I'd thought long dead. Something lifted me out of a haze of anger and hatred when I saw this poor little child who once was one of the mightiest of the heavenly host. He looked up at me and I felt love for the first time since the fall of man.

 

   And now I'm facing the very jaws of Hell itself. I don't know how I'm going to get through this.

 

   My name is Mammon and I was the worst of all, but I will be a good father.

 

 

******************

 

 

   Feel free to comment or make suggestions!

Edited by FunkyTown
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:thumbsup: .

 

Start of something longer, or just a short thing?

Just the start of something longer, but I don't want to post the whole thing as I imagine it would be very long.

 

I was just sitting at home thinking about what it would be like to be one of the great ones. Raphael was the only archangel we don't know who he was in Mortality, so I went with him.

 

The idea for the story was basically, "What if one of the Fallen, after millenia of problems, decided to repent because they didn't want one of the ones they loved most in the pre-mortal existence to make the mistakes they did?"

 

Repentence is not an easy process. You have to face demons(In this case literal ones), overcome personal habits that have become ingrained and it can be quite painful. Repentence is usually harder based upon how far you've fallen. I imagine this sort of repentence would be most difficult.

 

The zombie thing was just something I was thinking about at home. The Damned have no need for food or sustenance, they have no love for one another(Because love is from God) and exist solely to indulge passions that no longer bring them pleasure(Because pleasure is also from God - The Fallen have just twisted whatever brought them pleasure to ways and means unacceptable to God.).

 

I thought about what such a creature would be like - Nothing but driving, cavernous need for something that can no longer satisfy them in any meaningful way. They would be a creature without love or mutual respect and fondness for any creature.

 

I realized that was actually a remarkably scary thing to me.

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