CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Charles Horse's dream
_________________________
Nobody knew how the Murder Ball had begun, whcih was strange when Charles Horse thought about it. Maybe they did no once but they willingly forgot the knowledge because it was true terrible. Hadn't it been an experiment? Was it flesh or mechanical? Charles Horse couldn't remember. He always looked away when it appeared on the television. He did not want to think about it.
He remembered children at school playing Murder Ball in the playground, rolling over him, holding him down, saying he was going to DIE that this was it, that his DEATH was here, there was no escape...they'd broken his wrist once.
The Murder Ball spent most of its time under the ocean. Sometimes it got stuck. Charles hoped that one day it would get stuck forever. No such luck.
No one could destroy it. Any projectile fired at it was absorbed into the ball, just like anything that it rolled over. Murder Ball was a strange name, Charles thought. It didn't just kill, it destroyed. Whole cities had been crushed under its non-stop roll. Millions had died, yes, but what about the buildings lost? The museums? The art? It was an eraser rolling across the land.
And it was coming for Charles Horse.
He'd almost turned the news off when he'd heard the Murder Ball mentioned. It had been under the ocean for the better part of a year and Charles had hoped it would stay there. But no, it was back, they said. And it was in his country. That was scary enough. But then they showed its predicted path. Such predictions often turned out to be wrong, because people could change the ball's path by huddling in its path (the cultists would be happy, Charles thought) but generally they were pretty accurate...the Murder Ball was heading for his town. Right through it, in fact.
So why hadn't Charles Horse gotten out? Others had fled. Yet he just sat there, watching the news. Waiting. Did he want to die? Was he waiting for the Murder Ball to kill him? We he waiting for its judgement? Leaving his fate up to chance? He couldn't say. He hadn't even thought about it. He'd just sat there, frozen, since he'd heard the news. Like he was in a dream...
But this was really happening and the news said the Murder Ball was in his town. Finally he looked at the tv. There it was. The massive ball, a mile high, rolling through his town, crushing everything in its path. The library he used to visit, gone. All that knowledge destroyed. And the people. Not everyone had fled. Some were running, scared. But yes, there were Murder Ball Cultists, huddled around, praying to the Ball to take them within its self.
Some believed that the ball didn't kill, that it merely convered matter into...something. That it was storing the patterns of the things it rolled over.
Charles Horse found that unlikely. It was a thing of pure death. He'd always known it.
He looked out his window at the field at the bottom of his street. Everything was deathly quiet, until a cow mooed. The farmer hadn't cleared them out. How cruel, Charles Horse thought. And then...he heard it. Screams. Pain. Death. A terrible echo of...something. Was it the sound of everyone the Ball had killed crying out at once? It was unearthly, alien, and it was withing earshot.
And then the Murder Ball rolled over the horizon and into the field. Everything disappeared. The first of the cows were gathered up by the rolling ball and they were gone. He did not seem them flattened. But as the ball rolled over, he saw to his horror the flat remains of people. And yet...were they still alive, somehow, frozen as they were? It was like they were printed on the outside of the balls.
There was something mechanical about it too, he observed. The flesh never completely took it over. How thought he saw the cows on the outside now. It was at the bottom of his street and it wasn't stopping. It was coming up the hill for him. He saw houses crushed and converted. Yes, the Murder Ball was converting them. It was....he didn't know what it was. But he wanted to be in it, suddenly. He wanted it to take him as it had taken millions before.
He waited and waited. Then it turned dark outside. The Ball was over him...yet he still lived? He dared turn his head. He looked out his window...the Ball was rolling past.
It had missed his house.
Charlies Horse ran to the front door opened it and cried out.
Hs aw the ball as it rolled into the distance. He saw a family looking down from its surface. He would never forget their frozen faces. They were beautiful. And he was not with them.
He'd never see the Murder Ball in person again.
________________________________
Charles Horse awoke in a sweat like never before. What a dream!
___________________________________
No, this was not a dream....it was a prediction.
For Charles Horse was creating the Murder Ball himself out of pure hatred in his own head. One day it would roll out from him. And consume.
_______________________________________
_________________________
Nobody knew how the Murder Ball had begun, whcih was strange when Charles Horse thought about it. Maybe they did no once but they willingly forgot the knowledge because it was true terrible. Hadn't it been an experiment? Was it flesh or mechanical? Charles Horse couldn't remember. He always looked away when it appeared on the television. He did not want to think about it.
He remembered children at school playing Murder Ball in the playground, rolling over him, holding him down, saying he was going to DIE that this was it, that his DEATH was here, there was no escape...they'd broken his wrist once.
The Murder Ball spent most of its time under the ocean. Sometimes it got stuck. Charles hoped that one day it would get stuck forever. No such luck.
No one could destroy it. Any projectile fired at it was absorbed into the ball, just like anything that it rolled over. Murder Ball was a strange name, Charles thought. It didn't just kill, it destroyed. Whole cities had been crushed under its non-stop roll. Millions had died, yes, but what about the buildings lost? The museums? The art? It was an eraser rolling across the land.
And it was coming for Charles Horse.
He'd almost turned the news off when he'd heard the Murder Ball mentioned. It had been under the ocean for the better part of a year and Charles had hoped it would stay there. But no, it was back, they said. And it was in his country. That was scary enough. But then they showed its predicted path. Such predictions often turned out to be wrong, because people could change the ball's path by huddling in its path (the cultists would be happy, Charles thought) but generally they were pretty accurate...the Murder Ball was heading for his town. Right through it, in fact.
So why hadn't Charles Horse gotten out? Others had fled. Yet he just sat there, watching the news. Waiting. Did he want to die? Was he waiting for the Murder Ball to kill him? We he waiting for its judgement? Leaving his fate up to chance? He couldn't say. He hadn't even thought about it. He'd just sat there, frozen, since he'd heard the news. Like he was in a dream...
But this was really happening and the news said the Murder Ball was in his town. Finally he looked at the tv. There it was. The massive ball, a mile high, rolling through his town, crushing everything in its path. The library he used to visit, gone. All that knowledge destroyed. And the people. Not everyone had fled. Some were running, scared. But yes, there were Murder Ball Cultists, huddled around, praying to the Ball to take them within its self.
Some believed that the ball didn't kill, that it merely convered matter into...something. That it was storing the patterns of the things it rolled over.
Charles Horse found that unlikely. It was a thing of pure death. He'd always known it.
He looked out his window at the field at the bottom of his street. Everything was deathly quiet, until a cow mooed. The farmer hadn't cleared them out. How cruel, Charles Horse thought. And then...he heard it. Screams. Pain. Death. A terrible echo of...something. Was it the sound of everyone the Ball had killed crying out at once? It was unearthly, alien, and it was withing earshot.
And then the Murder Ball rolled over the horizon and into the field. Everything disappeared. The first of the cows were gathered up by the rolling ball and they were gone. He did not seem them flattened. But as the ball rolled over, he saw to his horror the flat remains of people. And yet...were they still alive, somehow, frozen as they were? It was like they were printed on the outside of the balls.
There was something mechanical about it too, he observed. The flesh never completely took it over. How thought he saw the cows on the outside now. It was at the bottom of his street and it wasn't stopping. It was coming up the hill for him. He saw houses crushed and converted. Yes, the Murder Ball was converting them. It was....he didn't know what it was. But he wanted to be in it, suddenly. He wanted it to take him as it had taken millions before.
He waited and waited. Then it turned dark outside. The Ball was over him...yet he still lived? He dared turn his head. He looked out his window...the Ball was rolling past.
It had missed his house.
Charlies Horse ran to the front door opened it and cried out.
Hs aw the ball as it rolled into the distance. He saw a family looking down from its surface. He would never forget their frozen faces. They were beautiful. And he was not with them.
He'd never see the Murder Ball in person again.
________________________________
Charles Horse awoke in a sweat like never before. What a dream!
___________________________________
No, this was not a dream....it was a prediction.
For Charles Horse was creating the Murder Ball himself out of pure hatred in his own head. One day it would roll out from him. And consume.
_______________________________________