Genesis Let There Be Life Bible Of Mercy

By Renell Lettsome

Dedicated to the women that trust me with their stories. Sorry for your suffering, and thank you for your strength. Remember, there is no rainbow without the rain. No love without the pain. No mercy without the blame.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renell Lettsome
• Release date: Mar 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224927661

Book preview

Can Mercy stop an unbeatable force from hell, survive the horrors of The Box, and figure out how to protect the world from the worst monster of all time: Mankind?

Dedication

Dedicated to the women that trust me with their stories. Sorry for your suffering, and thank you for your strength. Remember, there is no rainbow without the rain. No love without the pain. No mercy without the blame.

Whether the weather be cool, Whether the weather be hot, We must weather the weather Whatever the weather

Whether we like it or not

-

Anonymous

MONSTERS MORE MUNDANE

What do we know about them?

Monster...what do you think about when you hear that word? Do you envision stalking darkness? Do you wonder what lives beyond your sight? Perhaps you fear dripping fangs, or curled claws? ...Maybe monsters more mundane?

Do you think about doors opening in the dark? Opening without a creak...revealing a shadow that likes to creep, a silhouette in the doorway ...when everyone is supposed to be asleep? Why aren't they busy counting counting-sheep?

A slow silent approach across the room, the only sound a restrained excited breathing as warning of what is to come? Maybe it's the sick hand slipping beneath the sheet that you fear? A blanket pulled over the head was supposed to protect you from monsters, isn't it? This sick hand, this clawless human hand, with its inhumane touch, brings broken trust, confusion, a jumble of raw emotions...doesn't it? Pleasure, pain, bad, good, wrong, ri – No... never right. It never feels right. It always feels wrong, wrong, wrong, even if it feels good it always feels wrong, wrong, wrong. Some of us go through that...then again, some of us don't.

DOUBLE HORRORCIDE

Mom?

Mrs.Willows froze. Not like a deer in headlights, this old buzzard was a long time predator, a hunter of pups, it was more like a jungle cat's pause with a paw still poise to step. Her arm was outstretched, half-buried under the blanket of the ten-year old girl.

Mom? The girl repeated questioningly, concern coloring her tone, confusion clear.

There was always a rush of excitement between the old buzzard's legs whenever they called her that. That is why Mrs.Willows always insisted on the honorific. She basically demanded the foster kids call her that...even undeserved in the dark.

Yes, Sweetie?

I'm not anyone's Sweetie. I'm a monster.

Softly, mostly into the blanket gathered by her tiny fist and pressed against her lips, There's a monster under my bed, more than one. Mercy pulled the blanket higher, completely covering nose, mouth, and chin. All left were gray eyes, brimming with tears, liquid stars reflecting the hallway light, with a touch of inner shine.

Mrs.Willows sighed. A world-weary patient motherly sigh. It couldn't get any more condescending unless the woman reached out and patted the girl's head like a pup. It was her well-practiced sigh number nine. A good sigh by all accounts. Inside that sound was the self-assured fact that there was no such thing as monsters. It was the fact that there was nothing remotely dangerous under the bed. Mrs.Willows knew for a fact she was the only monster in this room tonight.

Mercy come on now, what did I tell you about making up stories?

"There is a monster," the child insisted.

Mercy. Raw disappointment dripped from the word.

There is..., this time the words weren't delivered as strongly as they were before. Less insistent, even as they urged the skeptical adult to believe, they revealed a sense of doubt. Though she implored, it was dark under the bed, who was she to go looking for strange sounds. Who was she to brave the dark and go looking for monsters?

You're a smart girl, almost all grown up, you know there's no such thing as monsters. You really have to stop this, the lady of the house admonished as she added her weight to the edge of the bed. If you insist on telling tall-tales no-one will ever believe a word you say. Wouldn't that be terrible Mercy? No-one believing anything you say? It must be the worst feeling in the whole wide world. You don't want people to stop believing in you, right? You don't want people to stop believing what you say, do you? Sitting on the edge of the bed was not enough, she scooched closer.

Wow bitch. Three whole days as my mother and out pours the worldly wisdom huh. You are wrong on so many levels.

Could you see? ...Please? Mercy's voice lost volume, quivered just a bit at the end. Just enough.

Mrs.Willows smoothed wrinkles out of the blanket over Mercy's belly...then a bit lower. I'll look sweetie but I'm telling you there is nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of.

Not for me anyway, Mercy thought. So at least you're right about that. Half-right.

Mrs.Willows raised a finger, as if an idea just occurred to her. Hm. I'm – I'll look sweetie, just for you, just to make sure...but there is something I'm going to want you to do for me. The 'me' sounded friendly, it sounded familiar and safe and kind. It sounded –

Mrs.Willows said, If you want me to look then we have to make a deal. She waited for Mercy's nod before continuing with, If there isn't anything there, just like I said...then you owe me. Deal? Sweetie? This was followed by a tight-lipped motherly smile, bent

heavily at either end, but even this condescending-in-every-way expression was a lie.

I told you, I'm not anyone's Sweetie. I'm a monster.

Come on Mercy, what do you say? fair's fair now. I'm doing something for you, you have to do something for me. Deal?

Mercy glanced around the room. She noted the abundance of stuffed animals packed carefully in shelves, ample coloring-books neatly lined-up in rows in a mini-library, all playthings the previous occupants of this room probably paid for with their innocence.

Doesn't take much for you to outsmart children does it? I bet you still celebrate the ruse itself too. Weakness lives here. Weakness.

Out-loud, nodding cautiously, Mercy said softly, ...okay..., tugging the blanket up higher again.

No, no, no, Mrs.Willows gently eased the blanket down. She wanted to see Mercy's face. "You have to say 'Deal Mommy', so that I know that you really want it. That way we can keep the deal just between us. Ok Mercy? I'll even come to check under your bed every night. How would you like that?"

Oh-my-God-puta, just look under the damn bed.  Ok, got to

stay patient. Focus...stay focused...don't...lose...focus....

Mercy's gaze began to wander. There were a few glow-in-the- dark plastic stars on the walls, close enough to illuminate a cartoon poster. There was a closet in the corner, a dresser for clothes, and lots of floor-space. Without the adults of this house this room would have been a happy place for the average ten-year-old. Mercy was not the average ten-year-old.

A hand stroking her thigh reminded her there was a task at hand.

-always there to take care of you, Mrs.Willows was saying. "Family. I'll teach you what family means. We have to take care of each other. So I'll take care of you, and you'll  you'll take care of me.

Do you want me to teach you how to take care of me, Mercy?" Inside, Mercy smiled with every intention of 'taking care' of

Mrs.Willows.

I'll teach you to sweetie, the hand crept higher. All you have to do is follow my lead. Mrs.Willows caressed the child's thigh through the blanket. I'll always take care of my little girl. My new little girl. She patted the thigh. The second pat brought the hand higher still. Because I love you.

Ah, and there it is. Love. Have there ever been a more abused word?

Now, Mrs.Willows squeezed the girl's thigh just south of pain. "Do we have a deal? I check on you every night, you will follow my rules? All of my rules?"

They like you scared, those predators, Mercy thought. They don't even know why. They don't even know why, Mercy concluded. They don't know why fear in others excite them. It's the scent really. Fear, a smell too subtle for most humans on the planet to consciously perceive. Smell speaks to the primitive part of the brain, that primal factor that once hunted, dependent on the sense of smell for survival. Back when Man truly hungered and hunted. Truly hunted, not this weak sport of the modern era. Survival-of-the-fittest was self- explanatory, every day set the example during ancient times. There was no fridge full of food to fall-back on. No real disappointment with a missed kill. During this time when Man truly hunted Man was hunted. There was no need for a philosopher to put into words daily life. Survival-of-the-fittest is a self-explanatory term but rare is it mentioned the pleasure that comes from the kill. The relief packed with explosive excitement that doesn't just simply go away. This was why chest were pounded, this emotional maelstrom that came from facing death, challenging food that could kill you the instant you lose focus. Daily conquering death as does any other wild thing, then the joy brought by standing over the promise of a full stomach bought with the life of another. Life paid for with death. Because this exhilaration doesn't simply go away a bellow and vigorous beating of the chest rightly expresses this emotional tea-pot. Fear laced blood told those who could scent it, Dinner Is Ready.

Then there are those that hunted the hunters. Those that home- in on those bellowing foolishly in this dangerous world, giving away their position. Adrenaline junkies all. Like cats and killer-whales, these sociopaths know, play with your food and it seasons itself.

Pain fueled fear toughens the meat to tenderize later. A jaw workout, keeps the teeth grip strong through life. When terrors hammers the heartbeat near cardiac catastrophe, then it was time to sever life.

Picked fruit could never taste so good. It could never equal the exhilaration that comes from a successful hunt. Chemicals produced by a pain filled brain and body – Climatic meal.  How has scientist

not figured all this out, Mercy wondered. Maybe they have, and, like all great hunters, they seek control over their territory and less competition so they keep the knowledge secret for their own benefit. Adrenaline and endorphins, and all those wonderful creeper chemicals a tortured dying body produce – No wonder killer-whales in captivity often fall sick. Fed from the softest hands of mankind left much to be desired.

Deal.

She almost forgot she was playing a dangerous game. Playing her part, bait on this particular hunt.

Mrs.Willows frowned slightly. Squeezed har-

Deal Mommy, Mercy quickly corrected, wincing.

The woman smiled bright and wide, glad that Mercy was a fast learner. She had hoped as much, less bruises that way. The foster forms Mrs.Willows filled-out had suggested as much, but she wasn't new to the foster system, Mrs.Willows knew how The System sometimes padded a child's file. She had been fooled before. The System tried its best to get rid of problematic placements. This time she was not disappointed though. There was much she intended to teach Mercy.

Mrs.Willows smiled a predatory smile, patting Mercy's thigh all-the-while. A pat and stroke really. "That's a good girl. I knew you could be a good girl for mommy. So good mmmmm and such a pretty girl too." Mrs.Willows slid off the bed, her butt tugged the blanket away from Mercy a bit but Mrs.Willows did not seem to notice Mercy didn't mind the sudden lack of its fabled protection.

Mrs.Willows made a big show of getting on her knees, all slow and laborious, as if she was going through a terrible trouble for Mercy's sake. She gave Mercy a crooked smile. Always remember now, a deal's a deal. Her mind was so full of Mercy she wasn't aware of anything else. She imagined the feel of the child's flesh against her own, the child without the protection of any blanket. Mrs.Willows licked her lips, imagining her first taste of Mercy. She had supplied the girl with peppermint liquid-soap, insisted on its use really. Mrs.Willows loved peppermint flavored pu –

Thank you mommy, Mercy said.

Just lifting the hanging edge of the blanket off the floor, Mrs.Willows glanced up, smiling reassuringly at the child. She was already damp.

There is one too many monsters in my room tonight, Mercy thought with no smiling back.

See Sweetie, there's nothing..., Mrs.Willows trailed off, looking deeper into the darkness as a slight frown formed a question mark on her brow. For just a moment it had seemed as if the dark had deepened...darkened. As if a cloud passed overhead at night. Mrs.Willows had a sudden sensation in her belly, that feeling of internal awareness one gets when walking around a room blindfolded. A sense that something dangerous was moments away from colliding with something sensitive. A feeling akin to vertigo...but it passed. ...there's nothi –

A pair of blood-red eyes opened.

She gasped – Huuhakiiyaaahkk!– as a behemoth's arm shot

out of the darkness, grabbing the terrified woman by the face in a bone crushing grip, silencing her gasping scream.

Grabbed, she was slammed face-down to the ground and held there.

~WHAACK-K~

The large hairy gray arm is connected to a gorilla-like leathery hand, holding this woman's whole head in its palm, gripped, pressing her face hard against the hardwood floor. Pinned.

Mrs.Willows was jerked down so hard, so brutally, her nose explodes, painting the hardwood a reddish black. Her scream is cut short so abrupt it never got the chance to leave the room. The pressing hand kept the head in place after the whack.

A weak ~pafffthh~ sent teeth scattering, though a few did remain attached by long fleshy lines of blood. When she spat again the lines broke and more teeth scattered. This skittering of teeth across the floor brought the interest of another monster.

Mrs.Willows watched dumbstruck as a long-bodied reptilic thing rushed by her face, only pausing to pick up teeth. It was no bigger than her compressed head but at this angle and range it was larger than life. His large eyes held intelligence, but no pity for her situation, his glance cut like a knife. He ran off clutching her teeth greedily against his chest. Then he was back under the bed, literally swallowed up by a shadow. Darkness reached out liquid-like to gulp the little monster down. Shadow-space existed under this bed. The arm reaching out had to be connected to something huge...but whatever it was, this dimensional divergence contained the massive beast so that the bed wasn't even raised off the floor.

~BLUAHB~

Blood and broken teeth burst from the damaged mouth again. The force that crushed her face was only slightly less that of a car crash. This was by choice not chance. She was to be kept alive...for now at least. A mouse...a baby seal...prey.

...no..., a whimper...a squeak.

A signal that this was time, the blood, ripe, the viscus, sweet. Mrs.Willows did not struggle as a forceful jerk dragged her under the bed in one smooth line. A trail, blood and brain-fluid, a streak.

She was dragged beneath so viciously by her hair some had to have been pulled out at the root. Mrs.Willows was also swallowed up by the same shadow-space that housed the two monsters.

Shadow birthed the little monster a second time, there was that distinctive reptilian skittering again as more teeth were collected. Birthed because anyone witnessing this event couldn't help but compare the display to a birth. It was as if a dry infant was born.

A moment passed. Then another. Soon enough of the shock wore off for true fear to set in. Surprise was replaced with terror. This wait was for the benefit of another. A fear-eater.

Fear swelled to epic proportions. A soft whimper sounded, but Mercy was well aware of Mrs.Willows feelings long before the doomed woman had enough sense to pray or bemoan her position. As fear graded up by degrees from horrified to true terror, Mercy watched the manifestation of the emotion filling the room as glittery multicolored mist. Mercy could literally see the woman's feelings. She saw suffering as the cold dark world beneath the bed crushed from all angles. She saw gray fear floating by, drifting carelessly like frost from a fridge. Inside the gray were other emotions of course, other colors, but gray was so dominant it was plain that fear was overriding all emotions. She saw fear float by and tasted it on the air. Mercy was not the average ten-year-old. Mercy was a monster.

Fear, gut-wrenching, paralyzing bowel-loosening terror...simply seasoning... and this girl was not the only monster feeding on fear tonight. Before Mercy's eyes the color-filled mist was sucked into the closet with enough force to pull the poster off the wall. The poster stuck against the closet's door for a moment

before being sucked in between the blinds. A masterful monster, a fear-eater with talent hid herself inside this closet. Monsters under the bed gave this princess space, everyone had feelings and no-one wanted their feels consumed by her greed.

There is a sound, perhaps an attempt to beg or bargain though the beggar had nothing to offer that was not already being taken. Mercy was sure the words were clearer in Mrs.Willows mind, but there would be no par. This suffering was well earned and justified, even if justification was not needed. Villainous blood was spilled here tonight and Mercy's monsters taught her that that blood was the best kind. Rich in feels too. Complex notes, a fine wine.

She must be unaccustomed to talking without teeth, Mercy thought.

There is a hard wet crunch. Blood, dark bubbly burst of blood, gush from beneath the bed painting the floor.

~SPURTS~SPLATTER~SPLAT~SPATTER~

From the shadowy world between worlds a trail was left. A toothless mouth moved again without a gain. Someone could have dashed a bucket of chum across the bedroom-floor, the mess would have looked about the same. A choked blood-wet cough was what remained of Mrs.Willows last breath. An undignified end to an undignified life for one that insisted on the honorable title: Mom. A woman that treated children worst than one would treat a pet.

Mercy gingerly step-danced around the blood puddles, avoided getting her feet wet. She made her way to a tooth stained with decay.

The skittering came again, this time with angry condemnation. The big-eyed reptilian monster raced out, snatched up the tooth the child was reaching for before the girl could touch it. Jabbing a finger at her he raised his voice, chit-chittering at Mercy angrily about patience, reminding her that it was of the utmost importance when hunting.

Mercy groused but knew better than to argue, instead she rushed back to bed. Her friends had plans for this household's head.

A large gray hand reached out from under the bed, first a five finger flat palm pressed against the floor to establish a connection, leaving the biggest bloodiest hand-print ever. Then the hand turned to the side like a knife's edge, slid across the hardwood floor, squeemed the surface squeegee clean, toward the bed.

The blood rolled against itself toward – Dark lips dotted black, gray lips with hundreds of black spots, pressed against the incoming flood – Rumbling thunder? ...no, leather-like lips slurping blood. The black-red mess followed the source of the sucking sound, only needing the slightest guidance from the shepherding hand to go down. Lips smack, a satisfied, Ahhh, leaves the floor cleaner than when Mercy first went to bed.

Show-off, Mercy chided, unable to completely smother her smile, glad that her friendly fiend was fed. Even if he was being a complete show-off using magic so gaudily.

Mercy knelt head low, grasping the edge of the mattress, trying to see into the monster's shadowy dimension. A world she could not yet visit because Mercy wasn't strong enough to withstand the same deep-sea-like pressure Mrs.Willows had recently been faced with.

There came a chilling chuckle from the darkness under the bed. A chuckle deep as winter night, twice as cold. His voice strong, his magic, ancient. Old. A smack told Mercy the chit-chitterer had grown bold.

Hurried footsteps in the hallway warned Mercy of company's fast approach. Quick as a whip Mercy dropped back in bed, pulled up the covers, summoned some tears and waited.

Just in time. The door opened wide, revealing Mr.Willows, Mercy was set.

He shoved his head in looking for his wife. Oh, he was more than a little surprised to find Mercy awake and all alone. All untouched. All unknown.

She called dibs but the early bird gets the girl, he thought smug.

He smiled a predatory smile stepping into the room rubbing his sweaty palms together gleefully as any would-be cartoon villain. His shadow against the walls revealed a narrow-necked man in his early forties, his bony shoulders could pass for shrugged wings...a vulture of a man.

Mr.Willows eased the door close just a bit, not all the way. Though the room was surprisingly chilly he left a crack. All the way or just before there lived a creak inside this door. He had no intention of making the mistake of letting his wife know he was awake. The rules state that late comers had to watch but he preferred to do damage unobserved. He had no use for the bedroom light, he believed every girl's first time should be done in the dark. This would not be his first 'Virgin Sacrifice'. By the hallway-light should be enough.

That's why they say 'lose' your virginity. No-one knows where it goes. Where did I put it, nobody knows.

He chuckled to himself at the thought. His smile widens as he drew closer to the child. He liked how she drew the covers up over her chin, terrified. So innocent, scared of the dark...even though there was worst things to fear.

Mr.Willows did not wonder where his wife went. There were three other foster kids under their roof, if she was foolish enough to go visit a stale plate when there was fresh meat served then that was her loss. If she intended to savor Mercy's virginity for desert then she deserved a fool's fate.

Too bad, too late, you missed your chance.

He would violate their rules, this wouldn't be the first time.

Heeeyyy? Can't sleep?

Mercy shook her head in a child-like no.

Mr.Willows rested a hand on her shoulder. I know. It can be hard to sleep in a new place. He was so excited he could barely speak. Suddenly he smiled bright. "I know what we can do! A game would help you relax. We can play a game. It's a tasting game. A guessing game and a tasting game. It teaches that there are sweet things in the dark, nothing to be afraid of. ...Do you want to play with me? It always puts me to sleep." The tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lip. He was already hard with anticipation. He liked her Latin lips. The ice-gray eyes as well, they seemed to draw him in. Dared him to do his worst. He wouldn't of course. He couldn't. The rules had been established because he had in the past and things had gotten out-of-hand.

Mr.Willows eyed those Latin lips again. It troubled him that his wife could do as she pleased but he had been limited by the rules. The trouble they had gotten into was his doing but that had been long ago now. So would he never again get to indulge?

Maybe tonight...just this once...since he was already breaking the rules on dibs....

...okay, Mercy said softly, shyly. Ok, Daddy.

Mid unbuckling he paused, took a moment to appreciate the title. You really are a good girl, aren't you Mercy. He began unbuckling again. Normally he didn't care one whit about the title, that was his wife's kink. He wasn't sensitive to honorifics like she was...but he found himself responding to Mercy's words. He admitted to himself at least that he found her words a bit exciting. Mr.Willows decided right then and there that the rules would be suspended tonight. If the child choked there would be hell to pay but by the risk versus reward standard he was willing to try getting his moment of ultimate pleasure tonight. "You be a good girl for Daddy okayyy? You do what daddy says and you get the biggest biggest biig piece of cake tomorrow, ok? We're going to play daddy's tasting

game. You'll never be afraid of the dark again." You'll be afraid of

me.

All you have to do is close your eyes and open wide. Daddy's gonna give you a big surprise. He drops his belt to the floor. Unbuttons. Unzips. "This is a secret game that only grown-ups play...but, you know what I think?, I think Mercy is a big girl. Aren't you? Yeah. You're Daddy's big girl. So this has to be a secret. Our secret. Ok? Just between me and you, okayyy? Just between me and you. He said this as a safety measure. If the child told his wife then they would discredit Mercy to everyone she met. They had learned from his past mistake. Since moving here their names had not become attached to any problems. Background checks by The System were rarely thorough, funds were limited after-all. Not to mention The System did not want to scare away potential fosters, there were so few people that wanted these unwanted children. You like cake...and cookies too, don't you. Everyone loves cake."

As he kept up this banal drone Mr.Willows took a little squeeze packet of chocolate syrup out of his pocket after a brief search. He then pulled out one of honey. He always carried a few flavors in his pockets. Are you ready to play? Last thing out of his pocket was a blindfold. The other foster kids asked for it now.

Mercy nodded.

He envisioned her head bobbing up and down like that below him. The rules said he had to keep it painless, but tonight.  He

closed his eyes briefly, thinking about how far he could push the rules...about how far he could push it. Thinking about Mercy blindfolded, guessing at what was inside her mouth – Tasting – Sucking on sweets until he was out of packets. then out of niceness.

Then it would be time to spread Latin legs.

Mr.Willows reminded himself to get a towel, the last time he broke the rules he had stuck a bleeder. He made a hell'of'a'mess.

...ok...but Daddy..., Mercy hesitantly said, drawing the

blanket higher.

What is it sweetie?

I'm nobody's sweetie. I'm a monster,.

Behind the drawn up blanket Mercy smiles a predatory smile, and said, "...I think there's monsters under my bed."

DARK THOUGHTS

It felt as if her skull had been crushed. It wasn't of course, he wouldn't do that, too quick, too merciful. He wouldn't get his point across like that. He wouldn't get the desired effect by killing her outright.

It's just a broken jaw. It's not your first – Hell it's not even your first tonight, Mercy reassured herself. Survive the red moon, that's all I gotta do. One night. Survive for one more night. It's just a broken jaw.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Mercy figured it might not be her first broken jaw but it might very well be her last.

Just keep fighting, she told herself. Come on Mercy, you're doing fine, just keep on fighting. What happened to thee ol'Mercy that could go all night. You still got it girl.

He cradled her head gently as she lied to herself. Even his touch was a lie. There was no comfort to be had here.

*What are you thinking Mercy,* he asked gently, but forcing his question into her mind psychicly.

No concussion. That blow was weak. He's a pussy  so why is

the world spinning? ...of course the world is spinning, that's what worlds do, they spi – Focus. Come on girl, get it together. You can do this. If you can stop him here then she's safe. All you have to do is defeat The Devil just kill The Devil then we can all go home.

Satan was standing by calm with Mercy in his arms, almost embracing the empath. Supporting all her weight really. His fist jacked up into her gut suddenly. Something tore. Inside, something tore. Idly Mercy wondered if it was something important. She wasn't a doctor after-all, maybe it was one of those redundant extra bits

GOD added in as a backup. Something the body didn't actually need to survive. Something she could do without. Maybe she had two of something where one would suffice.

Satan let go and as Mercy landed on her knees she suspected it was something indeed very much needed.

Mercy slowly hugged her belly with both arms, struggling to suck in enough air to choke on one more breath.

Satan, standing above her looking down on a fallen foe, spoke into her mind, as he did his human body changed, horns sprouted and curled, a tail grew, stretched – He was unable to control the shift as yet, space on this plane of existence was constantly rejecting him. Satan became The Devil.

*Are you having regrets I wonder,* The Devil asked. *...or are you having dark thoughts.*

This world is not one you would recognize. It's burnt. No, the bombs didn't finally drop, they still sleep silently in their silos, resting relics from the glory days of world power nations. At the height of their ingenuity mankind hoarded cataclysm causing weapons, each pointing at the nation perceived as an enemy or nation friendly but not friendly enough. Guns to each other’s head, knives to each other’s throats...for what? In order to feel safe of course. Safe from each other. World ending weapons to feel safe. Pathetic really.

None knew the consequence of living under such constant threat. The subconscious damage done to all people who understood fear ruled the world. No wonder hell came calling.

So you see, the world wasn't burned by man. Worst, the gates of hell were thrown open – quite literally – and the rising of the red

moon signaled that Satan came to claim his due. The prophesy of The Day With No Tomorrow has begun.

The ancient Flood would be thought of as a fond memory, merciful times. A time when the world was washed clean of its filth, Sin, the first moral virus. A time when love was saved by the twos on an ark. Life was preserved. An age ended...and another began. This time when The End came it was accompanied by fire, brimstone, and the searing light of The Morning-Star... and the promise of no tomorrow.

It wasn't as if there were no warnings people! We just didn't pay the signs any heed. Intentional blindness did have its drawbacks, it has much to do with the guilt