Armageddon --An Absolute Finish to the Story

in #finishthestory5 years ago (edited)

Catbells3 Northern_Ascent,_Lake_District_Photo by DAVID ILIFF License CC BY SA 3.0.jpg

Armageddon

By @agmoore

The mural did not please him. Not any more. The background was fine, but the characters--no matter how he shuffled them, they didn't live up to expectations.

At first, he found the humans pretty interesting. They went about routine activities--married, had children, squabbled, died. But there was no spark, no dynamic energy in the canvas. So he added war. Pyrotechnics were great for generating excitement.

War worked for a while, but eventually he grew bored. War was generally predictable. The humans would fight, win, lose, forget and fight again. He needed something completely out of human control. So he added demigods--immortals who could wreak havoc. Bring utter randomness to the canvas.

He sat back and waited impatiently for chaos.

That turned out to be pretty satisfying, in the beginning. The demigods sure did shake things up. But, incredibly, the humans seemed to adjust. They got up everyday and carried on, no matter how bad things got. It was all so monotonous.

Whose painting was this, anyway?

Finally, even the demigods slacked off. As the humans adjusted, the demigods lost ambition. They came up with no new ideas about destroying and disrupting. They showed no initiative.

The last straw, the episode unfolding before his eyes at the moment, was when the humans kidnapped Hiraam. Hiraam was the weakest demigod. His creation had been a mistake from the start. His only function, his only raison d’être, was to irritate the other demigods, to foment lively discourse. Of course, he had to be flawed in order to play this role. That's probably how the humans got the best of him.

But what of the others? Demigods, created to rule humans. They did nothing to help Hiraam. Over there, Isaac and Imani, crouching behind a tree--the best of the best. The first he ever made. And they were hiding! Utter and complete failures.

Only one way to fix this mess. Start over. He selected a broad sponge that had a finely wedged end. He soaked the sponge in paint solvent and carefully applied it to the canvas. The wedged corners allowed him to spare the background, which was still beautiful. He could do something with that--if he had the proper characters.

He began with the humans. After they disappeared he worked his way across the mural to where Isaac and Imani cowered. As he moved the sponge over Imani, it seemed to him a look of relief flickered in her face.

Impossible. This was his scene. His canvas. There was no existence, no volition, separate from him, from his creation, from his will. He clung to the certainty of this belief when the last remnant of the last character was obliterated from the canvas.

Catbells4 Northern_Ascent,_Lake_District_Photo by DAVID ILIFF License CC BY SA 3.0.jpg
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catbells_Northern_Ascent,Lake_District-_June_2009.jpg


accent accent.jpg
accent accent.jpg



The story you have just read, which I hope can stand on its own, was actually inspired by @dirge, who wrote a beginning for it in the Finish the Story Contest. This contest has proven to be an amazing spur to creativity. People from dramatically different backgrounds discover they are writers. Each writer is offered the beginning of a story. From that beginning the writers are to spin a work of unparalleled imagination and originality. Mine may not unparalleled, but it was fun to write 😎 The original story, which gave rise to my fiction is here:


landscape dirge2.jpg



This is how the story began:


Obstinancy

by @dirge

“I’m not going in there.” Imani took a drag from her cigarette and put her muddy boots up on the dashboard. “I’m going to sit here until the sun comes up. I don’t want to live anymore.”

Isaac groaned. He glanced at his watch. They had twenty minutes till sun up. “Hiraam and Kat are inside waiting on us.” He turned off the car.

“I hated Hiraam a hundred years ago and I hate him today. You know that.”

“I know, Imani. But it’s not like we have a whole lot of fucking options.”

She scoffed. “Here you go. Angry as always. You know, you’d think that someone could handle their fucking anger issues after a few hundred years but. Well. You’re kind of a living betrayal of that idea.”

“Eloquently spoken from a drama queen,” he murmured. Isaac rummaged through his coat pocket for a blunt. “What’s it this time? General depression? PTSD from the bloodshed? Bored with the general state of things? Let me guess. It’s just too hard now, right? Now that they’ve all gone and dropped the bioweapons on each other? Now that they’re too sick for us? Just too much work for little Miss coffeeshop revolutionary. Little Miss Make A Revolution For Fun.”

“Far more interesting to participate in their history then sit around painting all day.” Imani tossed her cigarette out of the window and lit another. Isaac lit his blunt and stared at her smoking. So beautiful in the moonlight, her black skin was smooth and supple after their recent kill. It was this time that they’d usually go back and enjoy themselves, let out whatever violent energy that had on each other before blacking out.

“You’re not serious,” he said. “This is just-“

“You’re right.” She turned to him and he saw between the growing high that she was serious. “You’re right. I don’t want to bother. There’s hardly any of them left anymore, and the ones that are still alive are all armed and fighting. It’s too much work, Isaac.”

Isaac hit his blunt and thought it over. She was right. It was different now. He glanced up at the sinking moon. The sky had shifted from the starry blackness to a deep bruised purple. Isaac was ready to speak again, to try and change her mind, when the door to the warehouse opened. Hiraam stepped out, his hands up in that universal sign of surrender. Behind him stepped three men in camo. One held a shotgun to Hiraam’s back.

“Shit!” Isaac ducked and pulled Imani down.

“How many?” she asked.

“Three.”

“Human?”

“Didn’t see.”

Isaac opened the car door. Imani hesitated. He pulled her out of the car. They ran behind trees.

Imani sat as he scouted. His eyesight shifted to inferred. The man with the gun and his buddy flared hot red. But the third one was ice blue. “Two humans,” he said, creeping back down. “The big one with a beard is vamp.”

“Smell pot?” the vamp asked

Sort:  



This post has been rated by the user-run curation platform CI! In this platform users are able to manually curate content. This is done regardless of Steem Power, for both rewards and vote size calculation.

Join in at our site here!
https://collectiveintelligence.red/

Or join us on discord to interact with the community!
https://discord.gg/sx6dYxt



This post was submitted for curation by: @theironfelix
This post was given a rating of: 0.9979025534548615
This post was voted: 74.02%

Thank you so much!

The great architect, the demiurge, in a painter version. You let us assume this omniscient, yet disappointed, godly point of view and make us fly with your immense creativity. Superb.

Thank you! You have created an environment where we are free. Someone plants an idea and you encourage us to carry it wherever our imaginations allow. That's great. Look at all the fine things that happen in the stories. You can be proud...a true catalyst for good. As usual, it's been a ride.

Wow. What a way to take it in your own direction! And, here I thought god was merciful. lol

It looks like you have thought about this idea in great depth before. Some dude saying, "I'm going to repaint this because it isn't going my way." What a baby.

Nice job.

I didn't really mean to take off on my own. I think I'm weary of war, hatred and violence. That may have come through in the story. And I've read a lot about the origin myths of different cultures. I'm glad the story wasn't boring--I thought most people might find it so. Check out the first and last picture--I had a little fun with that:) Always nice to hear from you--appreciate the positive feedback.

lol. I'm glad you had me take another look. I totally missed that you missed to cover the man's shadow up. haha.

I also missed the first time around the people missing from the second photo.

Shadow is a mistake--mine or the painter? Have to think about that :))

Enjoyed your post immensely.

It immediately had me thinking about the differing points of view; that is, of the observer, then the observed.

It's also similar to the Hindu perspective (i.e., the "Grand Play", our individual "masks" and "individuation vs. true separateness").

Namaste, JaiChai

I was sort of exploring reality, perceptions of reality, free will, predestination, etc. It is a simple story but I was teasing with some minor philosophy. Thanks for appreciating that! I enjoyed your comment.

This story and the way it builds off the source prompt (which was engaging in its own right) is a great tribute to this contest, where creativity begets creativity. That look of relief that flashes across Imani’s face as she’s obliterated, and the implications of that... wow! And the Creator’s reaction to that felt very much in character with the way you’d described him to that point. Props on a great story and congrats on the well-deserved Curie upvote!

That was the line I most enjoyed writing in the story---so glad you see that. This was very simple, and yet I saw it as kind of an allegory. I'm glad it came across that way. Appreciate your kind words.

interesting take on the story, an omnipotent artist painting a canvas, only to become frusterated and erase the life.

You said, right at the start, Imani didn't want to live anymore--your fault :)
Nice beginning. I took liberties, but then we all have to be true to the voice in our own heads when we write, don't we? See you next round, I hope

Very nicely done. Even if I hadn't known it was a continuation or play off another story, I'd have liked it. It seemed original enough, and it was well written. Great to have you be a part of the Speculative Fiction Writers of Steemit community.

Thank you. I think I'd like to stretch my creative muscles more on Steemit...feels like a risk. But then again, I do want to have fun....

Then you should join one of my #exquisite-corpse writing exercises or #farmpunk contests.

We'll have to try something else--even 40 years ago, that wouldn't be me :))

To each his own. :-)

This is the third story that I read about this topic. It seems that it got very popular :) The other two stories were great but yours is very different. You took a completely different angle and changed the finish in a way that nobody would ever expect.

I like the idea of the painting and this sentence is the best one for me: 'As he moved the sponge over Imani, it seemed to him a look of relief flickered in her face'.

I enjoyed your writing. It's dynamic and you are a great story teller.

Thank you for sharing!

I'm glad this contest is getting some attention. This is run in the true spirit of creative collaboration. I see writers growing from week to week. Never know what someone will come up with.
Thank you for appreciating my writing. It's my favorite hobby and Steemit provides a community for me to engage with.
I like Imani--she's all of us, I think, in a way. Great fun.

You twisted it again. What a genius idea to make this kind of beginning.
Painter, great architect, creator ... No matter how you start it, some thing stays not in the way you want it to be.

One can't stick to the highest high. After a while it gets used up and one has even to get a higher high. And it becomes ordinary. You boost it, it gets ordinary again!

Poor painter.
HaHa!

This little refinement at the end of your story: really the icing on the cake. The character who looks at the builder. Small and yet powerful.

Congratulations on the curie!

Thank you! The challenge for me is to be true to the original and yet not get involved in a gory battle scene. It's not where my heart and my head go. So....this seemed to work. @dirge gave permission when he had Imani saying, "I don't want to live anymore." As usual, writing this was fun. That's how I'm going on Steemit from now on....only fun :)
Curie was a complete surprise because it was such a simple story.

I don't really like battle scenes..

I like how you also did the art work in your used photograph: figures erased. Those little details - mostly not paid attention to - are added gems. Writers often hide things in their stories related to other narratives or symbols and hope one day someone will find them.

My man also told me about these programming nerds who hide things in their software-code. I like that a lot. Giving tributes or honors to others in this secretive way.

Good, that @dirge showed humor on that. That's the spirit of this crowd.

Thanks for noticing the picture.... my little secret I hoped someone would see :)

Hi agmoore,

This post has been upvoted by the Curie community curation project and associated vote trail as exceptional content (human curated and reviewed). Have a great day :)

Visit curiesteem.com or join the Curie Discord community to learn more.

Well, knock my socks off. I am stunned. Thank you so much. Steemit is full of surprises. I think we have to go along, do "our thing" and just enjoy the experience. Thanks again!

Coin Marketplace

STEEM 0.36
TRX 0.12
JST 0.039
BTC 70181.59
ETH 3549.53
USDT 1.00
SBD 4.74