God's Forsaken

                                            Prelude
The masts were like twigs compared to the colossal tentacles. The dark red mass wrapped its suckers around them and snapped the manmade trees in two. Flames streaked through the night to assault the rubber limbs. Sailors rushed about the deck. Demons hacked away at the alien while merman fired shotguns. The spread of bullets ignited on impact. Yet the limbs continued on with their delightful play, snatching up sailors and crushing prey.

During the madness, a random man knocked over a lantern. Glass shattered upon the blood-soaked deck, the liquid unable to keep the hungry flames at bay. An average sized, dark-skinned man paused long enough to examine the flames. He ducked under a tentacle. A spray of blood splattered onto his white shirt and dark pants.

“Manil!” shouted the dark skinned man. “Manil!” It was a losing battle. Shouted commands and the screams of the wounded overpowered him. Then he heard it. The sharp wail that any parent could identify.

The dark-skinned man darted forward. He knocked a merman out of the way. His panic-filled eyes scanned the slaughter on the floor. Next to the stump that had been the main mast lay a bundle of blankets. Flames danced on top of it while a demon stumbled toward it.

Darting forward, the father dove for the ground. His arms wrapped around the bundle and yanked it to his chest. At that same moment the demon stepped onto his back. Bones crunched, but hormones dulled the pain.

Those same hormones gave the father the strength to shove the demon off. Staggering to his feet, he scanned the area. There was nowhere to run. Tentacles wrapped around two-thirds of the hundred-foot vessel. The rest had been claimed by fire. Crew members and passengers tried their best to avoid both, but possibility hated them.

Off the portside, the father spotted something. The crescent up in the night sky provided little light, but he swore he spotted a mass sticking out the dark sea. Rationality told him it was impossible. Instincts smacked rationality across the face.

At a dead sprint the father rushed the railing. One leap and he plunged several dozen feet into the black sea. Cold water sobered him a bit. One of his arms clutched the bundle to his chest while the other clawed through the water.

As soon as he spotted the lights dotting the sky, the father inhaled. Shock tried to fog his mind, but his mind was too high to worry with little things. He swam for the dark mass. Lady Luck was kind enough to leave a wooden board in his path. With it, he managed to keep the wailing blankets out of the water.

Who knew how long the father kicked his legs? Days stated his sour muscles, while his mind guessed everything from two minutes to eight hours. All he knew was that he had beat fate when a foot struck loose sand. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled toward the shore.

Air crept down the father’s throat. Panting, he looked to the bundle. Grief slithered into his heart as he observed a nasty, pink scar where the child’s eyebrow should be. Yet her wailing protest to the cruel world brought a smile to his face.

The father made it several yards up the beach when fate kicked him in the back. Kneeling, the man grasped. Pain echoed through his lungs.

“No,” pleaded the man, “not now. Not now.” Rising to his feet brought back the pain, but he refused to listen. He turned around and gazed at the ship. Flames engulfed the vessel, yet some portions of it appeared to have burned out. A lonely pyre on the empty black sea.

Splashing alerted the father. He twirled toward the sound and froze. Out from the surf a woman rose, her hand to her throat as she gasped for air.

“Manil,” croaked the man. The woman froze. At a slow pace, he approached her. “Sorry Manil. I’m too weak. Too weak.” When he got right in front of her, he dropped to his knees. He extended the bundle to his wife. “But I protected her. I protected her.” With great care the woman retrieved the bundle. As if a tie had been severed the man fell to his side and let the surf carve an imprint of his body.

Staring down at the bundle, Manil frowned. She pulled the babe to her breast. At a saunter she left the beach, the madness of the world forgotten for the time being.