The King Over the Proud

honorable mention from our February Flash Fiction Contest

Paul’s eyes slowly opened and he saw the dull lights of his led alarm clock. 03:32. He’d set the alarm for four o’clock. It was too late to go back to sleep now. He washed up, put on his work clothes, and went out to get his boat ready. At least he’d get an early start. He was trying new fishing grounds today and was hoping he’d do better than he had the rest of February. He increasingly felt guilt when he looked into the eyes of his children and wife. They’d been making do with less, while he promised better times were just around the corner.

Paul silently prayed before he fired up the engines, switched on the navigation lights and let the ropes go from the quay. When he opened his eyes he saw what looked like the sun rising over the ocean directly to the south. It was an hour early and on the wrong side of the sky. He gazed intently at the approaching light for about ten seconds. Then he heard a whoosh and jumped off the boat. Before he could get up the docks a massive wave hit and picked him up. He landed ten feet away on his side. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw what looked like crimson searchlights and a dark object blocking the stars from the sky.

A few minutes earlier Geologists had picked up a mild earthquake off the coast. Men on nearby oil platforms had felt their rigs sway and heard the ocean water roiling like a storm was approaching. In the days to come eyewitnesses, camera feeds and a mishmash of evidence would gradually piece together what seemed like a ridiculous story.

Fifty miles away, beads littered abandoned sidewalks and streets. Pastor Andrew was outside the church he’d served for 30 years. He’d volunteered for the celebrations yesterday but he’d be holding services in a few short hours. As a recent widower, he had no real reason or desire to go home. He stepped outside into the twilight expecting cool foggy air but instead felt a rush of hot dry air. Then a sickening rumble and crash hit his eardrums as he stumbled on shaky ground. In the dim glow he looked around and saw a mountain towering over the city. A yawning gap looked like the embers within a dying fire. Around the gap were rows of … teeth?

While the Pastor was still gazing above, sudden movement came out of the hulking form. A long limb reached out scooping a deep wide groove into the city below. In a fit like a child impulsively destroying a sand castle the creature tossed what it had collected up into the air. This continued for several seconds with force that seemed more like a hurricane than a solid object. The next sound is remembered by all the survivors of that day. There was a sound of deafening explosions. Then a deep thundering laughter vibrated the whole body of every living person in the city. Pastor Andrew realized that this was no unthinking force but a living being delighting in a fit of thoughtless chaos. The carnage continued for three minutes and left a scene out of all proportion to the human imagination. Much of the city was crushed, pulverized in deep grooves or tossed indiscriminately in random piles. Fires burned even on the surface of what had been the river. The river was congested with mud, debris from the city, and oil slicks. As quickly as the shadow had landed on the city, it lifted up and glided away.

Pastor Andrew stood confused for several minutes. Then he fell to his knees and cried out. How many children had been snapped out of sleep, to die moments later? How many visitors and tourists would never return home? Behind him the Church had not been touched but ash was falling like dirty clumps of snow. Andrew fell to his face and prayed in a loud voice: “If we say we have no sin then we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, Jesus is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” He paused and slowly said: “Therefore I despise myself and repent in ashes and dust.” Rising from the ground Pastor Andrew’s face was covered in ash.

Miles away Paul looked up from his bayou by his mangled boat. Not twenty minutes had passed since the creature’s first pass. Paul saw the great form clearly as it glided overhead. Silvery scales along a graceful body that was offensively large and long. Flaming eyes of a creature without fear. A vast open mouth ringed sharp jagged teeth. This horror sped by in mere moments of the early dawn. Paul crossed himself as a rush of sulfurous air hit his face. The creature continued its flight over the ocean, plunging in, and leaving a glistening wake.

In the days to come, the news kept a morbid running estimate of the death toll. In coastal cities, people went about with a sense of dread wondering what was next. In the months to come crops would rot in silos and fields as the Mississippi was still clogged with debris. For a time factories shuttered and store shelves were sparse in the middle of the country. After the disaster there was a season of repentance in America. From the highest to the lowest man there was a sense of hollowness and humility before such seemingly supernatural power. The Leviathan descended on New Orleans as Mardi Gras descended to Ash Wednesday. The King over the proud had brought humility to the haughty.