Eventide for Demiurge


It looked like any other spacefaring vessel I might have previously crippled with sub-dimensional anti-spacial concussion waves – flaming, careering towards my lovely home in a death spiral.

I ripped open its thick metal hull with ease. The sudden departure of the vital live-giving inner atmosphere billowing out into the nothingness of space above me easily killed whatever survivors there may have been.

I swallowed three of its humanoids whole, mutilating the rest, and then I moved onto the cargo hold. I found there strange creatures, dead, yet warm with life’s just passing. Pink-fleshed and plump with flat noses, they smelled of their own feces … and yet … their taste: exquisite, even raw.

I devoured them slowly, savoring the flesh, unknown prior.

That was Thursday, as the asteroid turns.

And on this Tuesday, I claw in desperation at the rock on which I have reigned for eons, my mouth a rictus of agony as I am bested by parasitic organisms lying in wait, thriving in cysts deep within the porcine palatables I unwittingly devoured.

In this mortal, fleshy body I suffer through to death, though my consciousness survives just beyond the physical dimension of space.

In limbo, I write my experiences in a biting wind – jealous, remorseful, angry that such a perfectly simple parasite has brought an end to all things as I knew them there at the dark frontier of man’s futures.

Trichinella Spiralis, and my tearing, shredding death of flaming agony to be sure.

And so, I terminate the flesh of my conqueror manifestation, bitter.

And I steal, penning to the void:

“Rather than be less, Cared not to be at all”

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