creeders - post apocalypse

An early thought for a sci-fi story…

They were more than clay and river. Chaos raced in their bones and was subdued. They were the self- appointed in a stormy age of pain and fear. Creation rebelled. Adults sank into victims or sinners. Children bled children. Minds spat disease into begging minds. Violence begot unreason. The earth hurt and the sky cried pestilence.

A secret history. A shame made forgotten. Healing desires lies and sacrifice. And that’s how it was. A world that forgot itself.

But they were believers, of weakened earth and hopeful magic, and they anchored their sanity into the pain of remembrance so that the world would be guided to a safer place; a protection from future humanity.

They named themselves after belief and the laws that would birth that. They were the Creeders; intended protectors of the next day. But they failed to understand that chaos upholds no law and gains no quenching from the redemption of reason.

The killings breathed again. Now it was the Creeders who were dying…