Pluto's Soteria

He had been meditating for months, yet he still only managed to remember partial fragments of his dreams. He started this private manifesto a long time ago, yet he feared going back and reading what he wrote down too soon; dreams are often interpreted in the faintest of ways, and now wasn't the time to examine them.

Still, his intuition killed him. Call it a blessing or curse, but he knew the end was coming. He also knew that it wasn't going to come in a wave of explosions and global collapse that is often associated with the end of the world. No, this was far much worse. And far more important. He wasn't quite sure if he wished to end with it, or live through it. He wondered if there'd be anyone left to tell.

He often had dreams when he was younger that the four horsemen of the apocalypse were coming for him, yet right as they came to steal him from this world, they fused together into one being...the last thing he always remembered before he woke up was this pink horse galloping towards him...it was headless and seemed to be bleeding onto a blanket of white snow...

He looked outside his window; it looked like rain.

Scanning his surroundings, immediately he saw his world transformed into a rich-man's dream. A huge bedroom, with a four post bed taking up most of it...richly colored tapestries and paintings lined the walls...miniscule, undetectable cameras and speakers were placed throughout the room, to document his conquests. Ironically, he rarely ever went back to watch them, only on occasion to remember what happened on particular nights. He used to have a horrible memory...

Now, what he saw was essentially nothing. He was surrounded by a bare hardwood floor, three walls covered in worn, peeling wallpaper and a paper-thin mattress, which took up so much space in this ever-shrinking cubicle that he knew he might as well just dispose of it. Still, this was his home now. It took awhile to get used to, but having more now simply sickened him. He didn't need anything else...

People are damned. They just won't ever realize it...

The one possession he did still have was quite pretentious considering his surroundings, but he assured himself it had a purpose. Taking up the other half of the room was a $6,000 telescope which was an impulsive purchase when he was surfing the net one night, tripping in acid. He now laughed at how ingenious the idea was then, but he never would have guessed that it would actually serve a purpose. He still wasn't quite sure how to use it, but he was learning.

All of a sudden he felt claustrophobic. He reached down, lifted the mattress up over his head and squeezed it through his narrow doorway. He heaved it outside atop the heap of trash that his neighbors left. So unnecessary. He looked up. The sky rumbled.

As it started to rain, he stood there and let it touch his skin. He loved the rain. By now his neighbors probably caught on to the fact that he was a bit odd; most people would go back inside once it started to pour, but he went outside as soon as he sensed it. It was natural to him, and he didn't care if he was the neighborhood freak as a result. Every town has one.

Suddenly, he felt a pain in his loins. It always came on like this, when he was outside, but the rain and thunder somehow increased these pains. If he tried to explain this to anyone, they would tell him he's just horny or should seek medical attention, but he knew better. And somehow he knew tonight was different. It's finally time.

He went back inside. His focus suddenly shifted to the box in the corner of the room. He tried to avoid looking at this box, which he trained himself to do almost hypnotically, yet surely it would stick out like a sore thumb to anyone else who entered.

The box was cardboard, which was quite tacky, so he covered it with a portion of a crimson red tapestry that he trash-picked from his neighbors. It meshed surprisingly well with the fading roses on the wallpaper and the brown wood floor. As his own private joke, he named the box "the vatican," and besides finding this immensely appropriate, he indeed treated this container with reverence. He now hovered over the box, hesitating.

Paradise. So many people misunderstand what that truly is.

He squatted down over the box, with his back erect. He removed the red fabric. Underneath, he saw the beauties remained, this time entangled with each other. Their own witches knot.

He watched as their colors weaved together; white, red and black. Each had specks of color of the others. It almost made for a kaleidoscopic illusion. Paradise is an illusion.

He had finally awoken from his slumber; he'd be sleeping far too long. Too many were content with this life, staying in their false utopia in order to avoid their true calling. Ignorance is bliss and bliss is paradise. Why would anyone in their right mind want to leave paradise? Because the right mind is wrong.

He removed a lighter from his pocket, and let the flames sway between his fingers, all the while, never taking his eyes off of the box.

******************************************

In the box, Pagea, Hospil and Rose stared back up at him. Just another God-eater.

The man seemed to be thinking carefully about his decision.

He picked up Rose from the box and held her in his left hand. From his back pocket, he removed a pocket-knife. He sliced Rose down her black-speckled belly and watched as her contents oozed into a bucket. Almost in a trance, he dropped the knife, and threw her demolished remains on top of the red tapestry. He than picked up the bucket and began to drink.

Hospil rose up from the box in her elegant pose, and watched. The man saw this from the corner of his eye, and almost shuddered, although he could see in its eyes that it understood.

Pagea remained at the bottom of the box, wistful but calm. She waited until Hospil came back down and went to sleep. She than slithered over her and out of the box. She ignored the crumpled display of red to her left, and purposefully crawled over the body of the human laying horizontal on the floor. She wrapped her body around the black object in the room, and stuck her head out the small, half-opened window.

*********************

He lay on the floor, unsure of what just happened. Am I dreaming?

He felt like his entire body was pulsating, although he couldn't move a muscle. He rolled his eyes back, past the bare ceiling, onto the only object in the room. I must be hallucinating. He watched as the object seem to vibrate...a black spiral. It seemed to melt as it ascended...straight out the window.