A collaboration of fictional stories containing, but not limited to, zombies, cowboys, tall tales, monsters, gore, aliens, twists, turns, and intrigue.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Legend of the Children of the Earth
The Earthmother was strong and kind. She was known as the Grand Protector and the Great Balancer. She loved her children dearly and granted each with the weapons and defenses that they would need to survive. The Earthmother’s guidance and power stretched across the land.
When the invader known as man arrived, she embraced him. Her love, which had always been her greatest strength, became her folly. Man did not desire her love and did not follow her harmony. He cut her and destroyed her with singular purpose: to thrive on his own.
The Earthmother called on us, her children, whom she had cherished and bolstered for so long, to fight for her. We took on the task readily, for we owed her everything and her destruction would be ours. She gave to us, the cunning to fight the forces of man, but he was a formidable foe, with weapons that she had never seen. Her children fell.
With a heart full of grief, she used her weakening power to grant her remaining children the ability to transform and mimic man, so that we could use his weapons as our own.
It is said that the last to receive the Earthmother’s gift were the serpents and that for them, the transformation was so difficult, and so painful, that once they changed, they never wanted to go back. The council of serpents decided to infiltrate the ranks of man to destroy him from the inside, but they got lost somewhere along the way. They warned man of the coming invasion so that they could live comfortably by his side.
We have not won the war. We are prizes and trophies. We are hunted. We are clever, exotic pets. The children of the earth have grown disheartened. We do not feel the pain of the Earthmother any longer and she has quieted her cries, for she has lured her children to their doom at the hand of these invaders.
Those that fight the war still, do so in wary clusters of their own people. They fight for their own. Those that no longer fight have done their best to integrate and blend with the invaders. Ours is a dying kind.
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