Gods and Men, Ch. 2
March 31, 2008
By J.D. Cook
Eli Serat Wrocley stood in a small forest in Northeastern Pennsylvania. His long black trench coat and hooded sweater did little to prevent the icy wind from chilling him. The spirit had told him to be here, and to allow the meteor to, “change him.” Now he stood cold, and ready. The spirit had told him that the power he wished for would be granted from this particular meteor, and this one only. The meteor was suddenly visible in the night sky. It was heading straight for him as the man on the news had predicted. It grew larger, and larger as it approached. Wrocley closed his eyes, and outstretched his arms awaiting it. He could almost see it through his eye lids, but it did not strike him. Wrocley opened his eyes, and to his dismay the meteor veered left towards a graveyard in the distance. He had failed the spirit. Then a thought jumped into his twisted brain, “Perhaps I can still get the power even after the meteor has landed.”
Wrocley was at the crash sight in moments. There was a large crater that engulfed most of the graveyard. A boy lay just outside the impact zone. “Perhaps the boy can be of use”, thought Wrocley. But that thought was crushed as a tall man came running out of a nearby house. Wrocley hid behind a tree that was left standing. The tall man picked up the boy, and scanned the area for something before running back to his house. Wrocley decided to head back to his motel for the night; as many people would no doubt soon be on the scene.
Once he was back in the small motel, Wrocley went straight to drawing up his magic circle to contact the spirit again. Inside the circle was a five pointed star and at the tip of each was written a rune that would protect him from spirits that would seek to harm him. Outside the circle set a small mirror. He then put on his crown and sat Indian style in the circle with the book of conjurations. After a moment of chanting the magic word abrahadabra, a mist swirled inside the mirror. The faintest outline of a face could be seen.
“Did you get the power from the meteor?” spoke an ominous voice from the mirror.
“No, my sire. The meteor changed course at the last second.” said Wrocley preparing to be scolded.
“You fool! If you don’t have the power then some one else might! That Meteor would have helped our cause more than you could know.”
“I’m sorry, master. What can I do to repay you?”
“Make sure no one else has attained any powers from that meteor. Did you see any one near where the meteor struck?”
“There was a boy, but he looked dead.”
“Find him at once and kill him! We don’t need him coming back to haunt us.”
“Yes, my lord.” The face in the mirror faded and Wrocley stood.
An hour later Wrocley stood outside the Hazleton Area Hospital, deciding which would be the best course of action for completing his orders. A woman ran past him with tears in her eyes and a man following behind her. Wrocley overheard one word she said in her hysteria; “Meteor”.
He quickly followed them into the hospital sneaking around behind them and slipping into the elevator with them. When they reached the 5th floor Intensive Care Unit, the couple ran to the nurse’s station and found out which their son was in. Wrocley overheard their name (the Dylans) and room number (515). He slipped into an empty room to wait until the family had left. It seemed to Wrocley like he had waited hours before the couple left the boy’s room.
It was still dark but the first twilight of dawn was just beginning. Wrocley snuck into room 515 and walked to the bed, removing a knife from his trench coat. As he brought the knife down a large force sent him tumbling into the window and out onto the 3rd story landing below. Blood ran down Wrocley’s face and the knife had landed in his thigh. Looking up he saw the same tall man that had scooped up the boy after the meteor hit. Wrocley limped as fast as he could across the roof, and hopped down onto the ground. Blood trailed behind him and his head wounds kept him from seeing correctly. Nevertheless, he made it back to the motel without being caught.
The next morning he drove back to his home in upstate New York. His face was left scarred from flying through the glass but the knife wound healed quickly. Wrocley would decide not to contact the spirit again after this fiasco. “It is over”, he thought to himself. “I’ll never talk to that demon again.”
Then in the night as Wrocley was sleeping there came a dream. In it he had conquered the world and was Earth’s sole ruler. He used his position to wipe out hunger, war, and disease across the entire planet. At the end of the dream he looked in a mirror and saw not only his face, but another face – the face of the spirit.