Too Many Souls, Too Few Bodies: Flash Fiction
Thunder, Scream, Roar, and Chaos were the first to sacrifice themselves. To give themselves over to the process of Infusion for the good of the Race. The way had been long and the path hard. But they took it so that our People might live.
Vanguard, Order, Ecstasy, and Delirium came next. Taking on in spirit what our gene pool could not produce in flesh.
Lightning, Screech, Wind, and Hysteria followed. Willing to become inflated and elongated monsters to do the work of saints.
Next to offer themselves were Hurricane, Wrath, Volcano, and Sonic. Alternatives were lacking; all choice was lost. Since no jeopardy attended, others came forward. Then a few more. Then many more. Then multitudes more.
All who were strong enough were made to undergo the Infusion.
Once, psychic mediums channeled them, seeking to learn the desire of the formless spectrals. Priests inveighed against them in the name of our Gods, seeking to banish them, as demons, from our presence.
But they had come of the People all along. They had walked the very soil of our world, feeling the ground between their toes as we did. But because of our falling fertility rates, they cannot find a way back to life, after death this time.
Even now, we cannot say why our sex will not bear fruit. A curse of our Gods? The oracles did not say so.
Many of the spectrals, despairing of ever again knowing the corporeal state, flung themselves into the Vortex. We forestalled many more from doing the same with a promise. We would find a way to Reborn Them. To Reborn Us All.
The People journeyed aboard the space cruiser, Night Prowler.
Random was one of only a few hundred true children left of the entire home world. When he was old enough he would have to endure the Infusion.
Or maybe not, if things worked out.
The Infused-gigantic man with him was Random's Grandfather.
Random said, "What are we going to do?"
"Not lose hope for one thing. That's why we're on this journey."
"Searching for what?"
"For a world with too many bodies and too few souls."
"Is there such a place?"
"We're almost within jump-loop distance of a likely prospect."
Grandfather brought it up on the view-screen.
Random said, "It looks like a blue eye in the starry blackness."
"Third position from its sun," Grandfather said. "The inhabitants, I believe, call it Earth."
More by this Author
This is a story about writing and a short, very short, violent exploration of the structure of evil.
This is a simple, short---very short--story about the vagaries of identity.
As the title says, this essay is a sketchy comparison of the some of the works of Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft.