The Revelation

I

"And he was given a mouth, speaking great things and blasphemies, and he was given authority to continue for forty-two months." Revelation 13:5

                                                            In the Beginning, There Was Death

Macey

The darkness flows from hues of purple and orange, the moon rising to kiss the sun's rays one last time as the darkest cloud of night I've ever seen falls over our tiny haven. I catch Will's face from the side of my vision and my heart tightens slightly. The tick of his jaw wouldn't be noticeable for anyone but me. His best friend, his lifeline. A solemn tear forms in my eye as he wipes his face, another tear falling for the family he lost. I love him. Utterly and desperately so, but, there's nothing I can do about that. The ultimate forbidden fruit, if you will. I reach to comfort him and he doesn't respond. I open my mouth to speak and he looks my way, but the gleam in his dark brown eyes hits the moonlight just right and I fall. My voice escapes my throat and I can't do it. I've tried for years to tell him. 10 years, actually. All this time, I hopelessly remained devoted to a ghost who had given the best of himself to a fiery red-head with a sassy personality and the body of a supermodel. For 10 years, I held to the desperate thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be someone I could count on. Instead, I watched him marry my best friend, smiled as they welcomed their son. Stood, holding that beautiful boy as his mother was in the first round of executions after the beginning of the Revelation. Helped heal Will's wounds in the aftermath. Cried, clutching the tear-stained shirt of my best friend as his son took his last staggering breath in that first harsh winter. The guilt of my emotions crawl through me. My heart twisting in regret, guilt, desperation, and grief. I loved my best friend. She was so much more than that; she was my family.

I had always been jealous of Gina. She had curly, vibrant red hair that fell to her waist, the clearest skin with minimal imperfections, and bright blue eyes. Her thin frame always seemed so fragile, with long, thin legs and arms. Her personality more than made up for the perception of weakness, though. We were alike in that aspect. Perhaps the one thing I always envied most about her, though, was her family. She had a wonderful family. Her parents were teachers and were more than happy to take in a "stray" off of the streets. In and out of foster care, I had an outgoing, tough personality, like Gina, but I didn't have the looks to match. My olive skin is spattered with freckles as my dirty blonde hair cascades in pin straight locks to my shoulders. My dark brown eyes pale in comparison to Gina's and my short, muscular stature is the exact opposite of hers. The thought of her brings misty tears to my eyes and a stinging pang to my chest. I miss her. Oh, how I miss her. I miss our laughter, pizza and beer in her living room, watching the cheesiest hallmark movies. Christmas hot chocolate- of course, with whipped flavored vodka- always followed and one of us, usually, had to stay on the couch until morning. I couldn't help the guilt that follows the thought of being in love with her husband- her Will. He, however, was still in love with a ghost.

                                                                            She, Who Was Taken

Macey

Shortly after Gina had been stolen from us, we vowed to kill the man who started it all. The world called him the Anti-Christ- people feared the world was coming to an end and he was the beast the bible spoke about- the devil incarnate. He had a silver tongue and managed to captivate an entire populous. After a vicious war, we needed a leader with tenacity and he was it. I can still remember his face. His dark brown hair, streaked with flickering blonde specs, fell over his eyes as his beard trimmed his lips. A charming, crisp smile crept over his face as I clung to Gina's child's sleeping body. Will was unconscious, covered in his own blood, a pool forming around his head as two men relentlessly beat him with bats. Gina's green eyes begged me to stay quiet, desperate for me to keep her child safe and warm. My eyes met her in a still, silent promise, before the brown-haired man put a bullet in her brain. I made that promise- and it was one I didn't keep. Thinking of her, of her son, made my heart wretch in guilt. I'd never broken a promise to her- and I never will again.