|Reign of Chains
Author: Tomes Scolaris PM
Humanity discovers it's origins and it's destiny are not as divine as once hoped but when the chains come out, will the human race submit or will we resist?Rated: Fiction T - English - Sci-Fi/Drama - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,166 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 08-26-11 - Published: 08-24-11 - id: 2946112
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Reign of Chains
They created us… created us.
The woman's voice echoed; it was a whisper inside his head and yet, it seemed clear. A face flickered before him. Her face, he couldn't be certain but he was. This was her. Other faces swam behind her, floating, fading. Faces he didn't know.
All of us… all of us.
Worlds flickered and more faces, hundreds more swimming around in his head and she appeared again. Her hair was long, golden blonde and her eyes glittered like pools under a starry sky. She faded away again.
To look like them… look like them… like them.
The faces were bathed in an orange glow. Flames flickered. The worlds and the faces kept coming and going, hundreds became thousands, one world became dozens. He recognized none of them. She appeared again, her cheeks stained by tears, her eyes red but her voice never faltered.
They left us… left us. To evolve… evolve.
The images never stopped. They were overwhelming, coming and going too soon. He couldn't catch more than a glimpse of a couple but the rest were there, always. Like static on a television. They began to speak not to him but to each other; distant voices that warned each other.
They created… created. A class of slaves… class of slaves… of slaves.
The flames grew, the worlds fell dark and the faces ran with blood, but their voices didn't change. They spoke to each other, distant voices that warned. Her face came back to him, her hair was cut short, ragged and her eyes seemed pale. The tears had dried; in their place her face was smeared with dirt.
Now they return… they return. To claim them… claim them.
The flames raged now, the surface of the worlds were littered with explosions, the voices began to scream. They were angry, they were frightened, they were desperate. Their warnings became orders and cries of freedom and revenge.
When they come to your world… come to your world… your world.
The flames fell away and the worlds and faces disappeared. In their place was only Earth, then America – his country, then his city, his street. Everything seemed calm and still. Then the screams came, a woman's scream first, shrill and scared. Children screeched, a deafening sound that pierced his ears and seized hold of his mind. He could see himself standing at the end of his driveway and he looked to where the people pointed. The sky was filled with ships, the size of large planes but nothing he had ever seen before. They fired and the explosions tore up the street towards him. The fire came back in a rush of flame, flame that he could feel on his face and then woman appeared again. This time her lips moved as the voice came.
When they come to your world. Fight back!
He woke in his bed, sweating and gasping for air. It was just a dream. He heaved a sigh of relief and fought to control himself, to steady his trembling hands. The sun crept around the edges of his curtains, the day had already started. Outside the sound of birds singing was sweet on his ears, the drone of cars and the single wail of a distant siren all sang their part in the chorus of life. Everything seemed calm and still. Then the screams came, a woman's scream first, shrill and scared. Children screeched, a deafening sound that pierced his ears and seized hold of his mind. It was too familiar, too real, it couldn't be. He must still be dreaming.
He threw back the blanket and ran to the window. He yanked open the curtains and was blinded by the mid-morning sun, blinking back the shock he peered around, examining the sky but he saw nothing. Relieved, he let out a sigh and dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans from his bedroom floor and a t-shirt. He left the house and froze, everyone was stood in awe gazing at the sky to his right. With a gulp, he turned. He couldn't believe his eyes – there they were – the same ships from his dream, slipping below the clouds like a whale might slip below the waves. He stepped forward to get a better look as the armada descended and when he stopped he realised he was stood at the end of his driveway.
The explosions came then, as he knew they would, they tore up the street towards him just like he'd dreamed and in a gush of heat he was lifted off his feet and thrown back. He groaned as he woke and clutched his head but the ringing in his ears left by the explosions was short lived and soon the screams of women and children pierced the dull veil, the sound of sirens and gunfire rang out all around and the ships, he could hear the engines of the ship as it descended to the street. Men jumped from the sides, men – humans. They wore ceramic black and grey armor, striped with red and some with yellow and their faces were covered by helms and masks, like some combination of medieval and samurai but somehow different. Then he remembered the voice.
They created us to look like them.
The aliens started to open fire, their weapons looked similar in size and proportion to weapons he knew but the design was alien and when they fired men, women and children were struck by glowing orange bolts and were killed. Everyone ran and so did he.