As a devout Catholic, I had waited all my life for the Rapture. When it finally came, I realised the falsehood of my God. It was four days ago now, though my perception of time has had a tendency to warp and distort lately, so it might have been longer ago. I sit here now, blinds closed and wooden boards nailed across the windows haphazardly. The only thing I have to accompany my thoughts now is this laptop and the static playing on my television 24/7. The internet doesnât work, but thatâs no surprise. It is the end of the world, after all.
It happened on a Sunday of all days. Godâs rest day, the Sabbath, come to be bastardised by none other than the man himself. At least, thatâs what I think. I guess thereâs no way of telling if this truly is the work of God, but it sure isnât the work of the God I worshipped.
As any respectable man, I had spent my Sunday inside the comfort of my own home. I had some leftovers from last nightâs dinner, which I shared with my swiss shepherd Lily. As I did the dishes, she opened the back door by herself and played in the yard, jolly as can be. We were happy. We were safe.
Until the Angelic songs of Heaven thundered across the sky. The song was beautiful, even if it was the most simple sound possible. One low, rumbling note from inhumanly beautiful male vocal chords. The sky peeled back, like a fresh cut from a scalpel, revealing precious golden light from up above. Not the soft, warm light of an artistâs depiction of Heaven. This light was raw, searing and awe-inspiring all at once. It beamed out in all directions, outshining the summer sun and tearing back further. The fabric of the world came undone at the seams right before my eyes.
The low note droned on, beautifully deep, reverberating through my very bones. My hands trembled as I set the last dish down. After all this time and devotion, I was afraid. I feared what was to come. Lily barked and I turned toward the back door. Through the narrow window above the sink, I saw it.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw creatures of divine golden light fly down from the tear in the sky. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, unlike anything I had ever even imagined. And one was coming for me.
Lily barked at the things and her ears pinned back as if glued to her head. Without thinking, I stumbled toward the back door and flung it open, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Inside, now!” I yelled at Lily, my voice lost beneath the omnipresent hum of the celestial choir. Even so, dogsâ ears are far better than humansâ, so Lily jumped inside without a second thought, tail tucked tight between her hind legs. I dared not look at the thing now descending into my garden, so I slammed the door shut and locked it, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Seeing outside my front windows was impossible. You know how in the summer, the street reflects the sunâs light when it gets really bright? It was like that, only amplified a thousand fold. Everything was bathed in Godâs radiance. To save myself from getting a migraine, I shut the blinds and closed the curtains, Lily whimpering in fright all the while. The house, and everything else for that matter, was vibrating with an intense roar, and I felt it might rise to the sky at any moment.
I didnât, but others did.
At first, it was a feeling. It was like small pieces of my soul were being ripped free. The neighbours, the dog across the street, all of them were leaving, tearing free of this world slowly. They were being plucked from the streets, from their yards. I heard someone on the sidewalk start to pray, praising Jesus and the Lord. I donât know what was more terrifying; her screams of anguish, or the silence that followed. Well, silence discounting the choir.
I do not know if I am right to fear the coming of God. The devout Catholic in me wants to burst through the front door and embrace the creatures I know in my heart are Angels. The other part of me, the human part, canât forget that scream. Maybe she was a sinner and had been sent to Hell. Maybe not. I do not know, and that haunts my head day and night. Another thing that makes me think that the human part of me may have been right is the humming. It hasnât let up since the sky split open, but didnât the Bible say the worthy would ascend and the rest would be left? If so, why have people beenâ ascendingâ for the past four days? Everyone who goes outside does, I feel it leaving, their presence or their soul, I donât know what it is.
Either way, on the first day of the Rapture, half of my street had ascended. I had been left behind.
I have never been what you would call a crying man. Hell, I didnât even cry at my own motherâs funeral. I couldnât. It wasnât that I hadnât wanted to, it was that my body seemingly didnât want to. Maybe that was because of my upbringing, maybe itâs just me. The fact of the matter is that, on that blazing Sunday afternoon, I cried. Cried isnât the right word, I wept uncontrollably for hours, late into the night. Lily licked the tears and snot off my face, probably trying to comfort me. I appreciated the sentiment, but a face full of saliva wasnât helping. She stayed by my side through all of it. Of course she did, she was the most loyal dog I couldâve ever wished for. I fell asleep with my head on her belly, the rhythmic up then down motion of her breathing soothing me to a restless, dreamless sleep.
I awoke alone the next morning. The humming still vibrated the walls of my home, so there wasnât even the slightest doubt in my mind that last nightâs events had been real. I sighed, then closed my eyes. I whispered a quiet prayer to myself, then went to the kitchen. Lily sat calmly next to her empty bowls of food and water. I cursed myself for having forgotten, though I supposed I could cut myself some slack given the circumstances. Filling up her bowl of food, I let my thoughts drift to the choir outside. Had their pitch changed? Maybe I was just imagining it. Not for the first time, I considered going outside, then thought better of it.
It was the end of the world and here I stood, feeding my dog.
âAlmighty God, please. I beg you, forgive me. I canât come. I canât,â I whimpered, tears trickling down my cheeks and into Lilyâs now full bowl of water. She paused, then looked up at me, bits of her food still clinging to the fur around her snout. She nuzzled up to me, whining. The poor girlâs tail was still tucked between her legs, and it hurt me more than anything physical ever could. That, more than anything, told me this wasnât my God. I trusted Lily, and Lily told me this wasnât right. I pet her, then told her to eat her food, and she obliged.
Someone knocked on my door. Three knocks. The faint sound of Lily eating stopped abruptly, so did the beating of my heart for a second as my breath caught in my throat. The deep drone outside carried on. My heart rate jumped so high it might as well have fallen into the hole in the sky.
Damien, a voice inside my head called. I thought for a second that I had gone absolutely crazy. Off my rocker, as my mother would have said, or batshit insane as my eloquent father would have put it. Then I remembered the droning outside. The people I had felt leave this world.
The end is here. Come now, Your creator awaits, the soft feminine voice spoke. The words flowed through the crevices of my brain like wet cement, which solidified and, for as long as I live, those devine words will ring through ears that never heard them.
âIââ I stammered out, unable to think coherently, unable to even comprehend what was happening.
Hush, child. It is alright. Heaven calls for you and your companion. I couldnât think, couldnât speak, couldnât move. Might as well have been a goddamn plant. Lily cowered between my legs, ears nailed to her skull. Her unfinished bowl of food beckoned, but she didnât even glance at it. She was looking at the door or rather, looking at the Angel behind it.
Time is of the essence, Damien. Open the door, she urged. Her voice was as calm and soothing as that of that AI girl in Blade runner 2049. I had waited all my life for this moment. Why had I ever hesitated? I stepped closer to the door.
Yes, Damien. Let us in. Let us into your heart.
My pupils were dilated, I could feel them widening with every word. My fingers grazed the doorknob, and just as they did, Lily barked. The sound reverberated off the walls, disturbing the perfect harmony of the Angelâs voice and the tone outside. I have never heard such a beautiful sound in my life as that bark. My girl, my sweetest girl.
Let us in, Damien, her voice grew darker and the lone note outside seemed to grow lower along with it. I looked back at my Lily, who was hiding underneath the kitchen table with fearful eyes, then I stepped away from the door.
âWhat was that screaming yesterday?â I asked.
Silence. Complete and utter silence. It said more than any words ever could. I knew it for sure then, the people on my street had not entered Heaven. They had not ascended to eternal paradise. Where they had gone, I had no idea, but it sure wasnât Heaven.
The rest of that day (at least, I think it was a day) carried on without further incident. The Angel didnât infiltrate my mind again, and there were no more knocks on my constantly vibrating door. I cried myself to sleep that night, as I have every night since the Rapture began, what else is there to do? I slept no better that night than the first. Telling night from day was impossible as neither my clock nor my watch worked. The outside was of no help either, as the divine golden light was constant and penetrated my blinds and curtains in a way that bathed my whole house in a warm, piss-yellow colour. Delightful.
I woke up to that light. No worse sight could have woken me. Everything was still real, a beautiful, low hum still vibrated through my ears, though slightly dimmer. At first, that gave me hope, but when I realised I couldnât hear Lilyâs tip-taps on the wooden floor, I realised it was actually my hearing fading. It was, however, not too far gone to hear those awfully familiar knocks on my door. Three. Lily bolted between my legs, then sprinted towards the back of the house. Whimpering, she sat at the sliding glass door with fearful eyes.
Damien. Though my hearing had faded, that word shot through my mind as crystal clear now as they had the day before. Of course, that had nothing to do with my hearing and everything to do with the fact that the words were being injected into my mind like medicine through a syringe.
âGo away!â I shouted at the top of my lungs. Lily barked in a âYeah, what that guy said!â kind of way, though she only pushed herself against the sliding glass door harder.
Come, Damien. Your creator calls for you, she spoke. Her voice was lower than the day before, though it was still beyond beautiful. It lured me in, and I finally knew how fish felt when they were reeled up by fishermen at sea.
âLeave!â I screamed âThatâs not my God!â
I said your creator, Damien, not your God.
I had been ready for many responses. Denial, begging, but that? That was something else entirely. It took the breath from my lungs and the words off the tip of my tongue better than any punch ever could. I had prayed so often, wished for the Rapture, wished for the Lord to take me into His halls. I had prayed for salvation so often, but I never thought to ask from who.
It left me alone after that. I havenât heard it since, at least, so I assume itâs gone. Apart from the ever fainter humming, everything has been quiet since then. Though, I admit, thatâs probably because Iâm going deaf at record speed. I didnât hear Lilyâs food clang into her bowl like I usually do. I get scared when I see her, because I donât hear her coming. Dogs hear a lot better than we do, so this had to be even worse for her. Poor girl.
If youâd asked me before all of this whether Iâd rather be blind or deaf, Iâd have answered deaf. Now, I know better. If Heavenâs choir hadnât ruined my hearing, Iâd have heard the sliding glass door open this morning.
I was awake. It would be easy to tell you Iâd slept through it, or that Iâd been upstairs when it happened. But no. If Iâm going to die, I might as well do it as an honest man. Maybe thatâs because some part of me, the stupidest part, still believes my God is out there, and that heâll forgive me. I hope he does, because I cannot forgive myself.
On what I think was Thursday morning, Lily opened the sliding glass door, just like Iâd taught her to do when she needed to relieve herself, and ran out into the golden arms of light that took her to Heaven.
I have to tell myself that. I have to tell myself that they took her to Heaven, even if I know the Angel didnât. I closed the door as soon as I saw it. It attempted to grab me, but it couldnât. The sliding glass door that never should have been opened slammed shut right as it reached me.
Iâm looking at it now. I know itâs looking at me too. Waiting. It knows itâll get what it wants, and itâs not hiding its intentions behind wafts of sunshine, rainbows and bullshit anymore.
I still pray, fool that I am, to the God I held in such high regard. But he doesnât answer. My creator does. He calls for me, to satiate his hunger, to be absorbed into His greatness once more. What is there left to do but to join Him and my dearest Lily? Iâm sorry, girl.
To whoever stumbles upon this: please pray for me. I donât deserve it, those asking rarely do, but I didnât mean for Lily to die. I swear it. So please, pray for me, and may my God accept my worthless soul.
Credit: Milo Sterlin
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