A work of serial fiction by Noah Sanders | 3/10/17
It happened suddenly. But they watched it coming the whole time.
They were shocked the day they left. But none of them, save the youngest, were surprised. They tried to explain it to them, their children. They tried to comfort their them with reason, and in so doing reassure themselves. They tried to show them where it came from, where it was going, how it began and why. They tried. But they faltered before they even began.
There was uncertainty and there was certainty. There was the uncertainty of their fate and the certainty of their flight, the uncertainty of the universe and the certainty of the evil it harbored, the evil with which they had come face to face, had smelled and tasted and felt, evil they had escaped, uncertain for how long.
The day they left, there was no pausing, no regret for the world they were leaving and fear for the ones they were soon to stumble through. Only later, light years away from what was only recently home, was there time to look back. Then, their flight didn’t seem quick, but drawn out. They watched in slow motion as they tore themselves from everything they knew, the threads of their lives snapping one by one. With urgency gone, they felt, like a star scorching red scars through their minds and hearts, the full weight of the things they were forced to abandon.
This pain, slowed down to burn all the longer, was all they felt as they floated through the universe. Without a destination, with only a point of origin that they were desperate to lose, but not forget, they had nothing to distract them, to give meaning to their existence, outside of their children.
Their children gave them a reason to live and they, in turn, tried to give their children a reason to grow. Their children knew pain, sudden and immediate, but they were yet to feel it linger, to dive into its source and experience the full depth of the hate and rejection that birthed that pain. But they knew, and they were determined to keep their children ignorant.
Ignorance brought them to Earth and ignorance attracted them to Earth. Earth knew nothing, nothing of them, nothing of their universe it shared, and nothing of its own itself. It was, it could be, open to everything. It was nothing; it could be anything. They craved this possibility for their children.
So, they waited. They floated motionless through the atmosphere and watched. Eventually, they found him, king of the ignorant, silent speaker for the mute to the deaf, sheltered and pathetic and hopeful, and they abducted him.
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