Writing Prompt #28 — He Has Risen, He Has Risen…

Prompt: You are a 911 operator working the night shift. It’s been a normal night, but all the sudden every phone rings at once. 

“Things! God! Things!” a man roared.

“There’s— there’s shapes, spinning, so black, so very black— I can’t— I can’t read what they say but—” Another shouted until her words became lost in screaming.

“Et ortum est, se habet: surrexit, non est orta, sed surrexit: surrexit enim, cum ipse surrexerit ad Vetus unus de prioribus surrexit ut nobis, dona nobis oculis meis, ut liceat nobis videatur, ut et nos gustare ac sentire, et volant, sed surrexit: et ortum est, se habet—” A young boy, maybe only ten, droned on until I was forced to switch to another call that was just a woman screaming gibberish into the phone.

The endless ringing filled the office, blending and intertwining with the incessantly ringing coming from the other offices down the hallway. I couldn’t keep up with them, no matter how quickly I answered, no matter how quickly I read the prompt in front of me, I couldn’t keep up.

I spat and threw the headset onto the table, and pushed away from the desk, standing. I strode down the hallway and looked into the closest office to find it empty. I went to the next one, also empty. I started to run and glanced at each office I past to find them all vacant.

“Where is everyone?” I shouted. I went through the double-doors, down the stairwell, into the first story and out the front doors. The air was palpable, stunk of salt and decay. Immediately I felt like I hadn’t showered in months, and sharp pains shot through my gums, as if my mouth was lined with only cavities. I gripped the side of my mouth, wincing, and slowly walked into the street. There were empty, no one and nothing could be seen from either direction.

The sky— God, the sky was teeming with colors that I couldn’t hardly remember the names of, if I had once learned them, that is. My memories were fuzzy, my thoughts melting like gobs of streaming honey, so hard to hold onto before it seeped through my fingers. The pastel, vivid, burning hues blended together like waves in the ocean above, twirling, swirling, forming maelstroms of beautiful, horrible things.

It was night now— or had it always been night? I couldn’t recall seeing the sun set, the moon rising, the stars coming out— could I even see those things with those colors, those wonderful colors? Something dark, shadowy rose on the horizon, so far away and bigger than the enormous, obsidian pillars, hideously ember etched with glowing sigils, jutting out from the ground. It was round but not, bending to make new shapes, new forms, new things that didn’t have a name just yet or would never have.

It rose and rose and blocked the colors, blocked out any and all light coming from above. Then peridots and sapphires speckled hundreds of openings that suddenly appeared out of the blackness, and vats of vibrant gemstones and diamonds swelled and spilled into the world— this world— coming from their world into ours.

Words appeared in my head, not my own, but from someone— somewhere else.

He has risen, he has risen; we can see all, we can now see everything.

Read my previous prompt, “Second Chances Aren’t Always the Best Option.”

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