Serial Vlogger: Part Forty-Four

A horror novel in tiny slices!

In the darkness, it stirred.

It had been so long since…oh, so long. But now, it was time to rise again.

Chaos had been swift and easy. A way to keep the humans disoriented, a way to seep in and resonate. They were used to chaos, to the sudden sporadic changes in the wind, the weather. They were the boiling frogs who denied the earth’s shifts, the legions who now roamed the earth, leaking into every crevice and corner, to fill their godspots with nattering and confusion, bringing suffering no matter how much they muttered their magical chants, their poems to an invisible being, they believe their lives aren’t their own. Those who believe they are guided by Something Else besides what was in their own blood, their own flesh were the easiest and quickest to turn. Those who chanted prayers to a sky fairy, to a demon, to a god, to an altar were the easiest to manipulate. For the suspension of reality was already stripped away. They didn’t have control over their own lives for they didn’t believe in controlling their own lives. They believed their lives were pre-ordained, fashioned by some God or Fairy or Creator. If they only followed the rules, rules made not by the God or the Fairy or the Creator, but made up by some man long ago, then they would be safe. They would be spared from The Evil or The Different or The Chaos.

But that was not the Truth.

The false gods created by the patriarchy only served the patriarchy. The gods didn’t rule over the universe, they didn’t hold the ticket to heaven, to hell, to The Afterlife, to 72 Virgins…The false gods were images only held in the mind of humans. The gods could only be understood with human words and human forms.

To describe the indescribable is impossible when your mind is too small to comprehend the vastness of all creation in forever.

The mind is too small to understand that time itself is just a construct. Those you mourn in death are still right there on the time loop. Open your mind, and you can make new connections.

Energy can be harnessed by human cords, plugs, lights, and computers. Who harnesses the soul energy?

Is a soul a human construct?

Or is soul the human word for endless energy that never dies.

The human consciousness might die, but the soul energy doesn’t.

And the soul energy is very powerful.

When chaos reigns, it means the darkness is hungry. The souls are there for taking. The collection plate brings money for the humans but currency of souls is for something much larger and more important.

Hunger meant that the souls were depleting. Whether that meant belief systems were wavering or that curiosity wasn’t spurring as much energy as it had before was irrelevant. Pitting the puny humans against each other was the quickest, easiest way to ramp up the soul energy and to make it tasty.

The collection of energy was what it needed to feed and to grow. The omnipotence over one world or many worlds was useless if the energy ever stopped.

Sudden storms brought chaos.

Poking holes in people’s belief systems was even better.

The humans still felt that some humans had to control others or lead others, and no one could ever decide who would or should be in charge.

That’s because no one deserves to be in charge.

No one should ever be In Charge.

The humans never learned that the gift of existence was all that was important. The gift of shared existence was even better. But humans always had to battle for dominance.

And that was fine because the energy, the hate, the fear, were delicious.

It was time to wake. It seemed like not so long ago that there had been nothing but sleep. However, it was time to feed. Chaos was peaking, and it was oh-so delicious.

Subtle changes, subtle nudges, and they would do all the work. Provide all the much-needed energy. They could destroy themselves easily with very little intervention.

The flat-earthers would argue one way.

The anti-scientists would argue another.

The Catholics would hold up their magical books to declare their way the Right Way.

The oligarchs would quiver and watch, hoping that no one discovered their secrets, the tentacles of their existence that stretched back before the earth existed.

Enjoying Serial Vlogger? Pick up the first six chapters in this print sampler! Introduce a friend to the world of Serial Vlogger over the holidays!

My very first poetry book! Also, my very first photography book as well!

Do you like vampires? Dig into this book! My story, “Countess,” is loosely based on Countess Bathory!

Dearly Departed is a collection of short stories that have been previously published over the past ten years. Andrew Robertson wrote a few, and Sèphera Girón wrote a few!