u/Basic_Test4808

John walked through the forest, but he didn’t know for how long, maybe hours. His brain still hurt from the headache, and his hand was sore from the branches' needles. But he kept going because he was brave, and he wanted to go home. John would have gotten lost in the darkness if his brother hadn’t been yelling to the high heavens. It took a few minutes of following his brother's voice before he made it to the treeline. 

John could see his stump in the clearing, and atop it with a lantern was Marcus. Far beyond Marcus was the dim light of a new day. Marcus was looking around and seemed worried. John was scared of how his brother would feel about what he did, so he stood in the trees rubbing his knife handle. He didn’t like the wobble the handle had. John looked at Marcus. Marcus looked scared, and John never saw Marcus scared. John wondered why Marcus was scared. Maybe it was because he thought John would lose his bullets. John didn’t move from the trees. He just stood in the freezing wind trying to stay awake. Although he tried to keep his eyes from closing, John grew tired as the warm air glided across his neck. It felt nice and cozy, but John didn’t want to sleep in the forest. 

Eventually John thought punishment was better than the cold, so he walked towards his brother. When Marcus saw him, John began to cry, and his body suddenly got really tired. His vision became dark and his body got heavy. As he walked across the field, he reached his arms towards his brother but tripped on the ground. As John fell into the cold grass, he started to drift asleep. He was so tired, and the grass was so soft. Before he fell asleep, John heard his brother's voice. It was angry and loud, but John couldn’t hear what he was saying. John just stared at the grass through his half-closed eyes. Marcus kept yelling and yelling until John could barely understand his muffed voice. 

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

John was too tired to react to the gunshot, but he liked the smell of the gunpowder falling into his nose. John remembered Marcus’s hand grabbing his collar and pulling him through the grass as he looked up at the blurry stars. John saw his brother's face through the haze and the antlers hanging high above him. The foggy white eyes seemed to glow as they stared down at us. Then Marcus shouted again. 

"JOHN, YOU NEED TO RU—." Marcus went to heaven, but his severed arm stayed gripped to John as the boy’s back fell against the stump with a bubbly pop.
 
John screamed in pain when his back hit the wood. But all he could do was watch the milky eyes gaze down at him from high above. Unmoving and perfectly silent, it watched John until his screaming became quiet. John’s chest quickly rose and fell as he watched the thing. Focusing his eyes, he could see the needle-like hairs on the demon's blackened fingers dripping blood onto the lantern Marcus had dropped. The fire inside the lantern was so little, and its flame was so low. It had just enough light to show the monster's foot stepping over it and resting beside John. 

Its foot was as big as John’s body, and the two curved claws that stuck out of it were the size of swords. The monster took a long time lifting its claws. Then with both of them in sync, it struck the log three times. 

*Thump, thump, thump.*

The trees beyond the candlelight erupted in movement and sounds. Thunderous steps and mumblings surrounded the two, and it wasn’t a minute later when John heard the first of the screams.

He was exhausted and afraid, and his back hurt too much to turn around. John saw strange shapes and silhouettes of feathers in the dark. He could hear the calls of elks and singing savages against the begging of dead people. The men’s shouts stopped after a while, but the women’s never did. Only ending when they got too far into the forest for John to hear them. As the Legion ravaged Roanoke, a constant chant came from the trees. A mix of devils and sinful men. 

"CROA, HAHA, TOAN, HAHA, CROA, HAHA, TOAN, HAHA!” 

John stared up at the monster, only looking away to his brother's clenched fist, still wrapped around his collar. The blood dripping from it soaked into John’s favorite shirt. The blood was warm. The monster waited, its massive figure just beyond the dying candle's flame. It watched and waited, eying John like a dog eyed a stick.
 
As the screaming women were carried too far for John to hear and the chanting fell to a quiet whisper, the monster kept its eyes on our hero. Then slowly the thing ripped its claws from the stump with a sappy squeak and pulled its foot back into the darkness. Then, as quiet as the night, it turned away its milky eyes and started back for the trees.

John knew he was facing the devil, even if he couldn’t remember why. So he did his best to be a hero.

John grunted as he tried to sit up but stopped when a sharp pain shot through his back. He opened his mouth towards the sky, eyes wide in pain as he screamed. But John was a hero, and John had faith. He threw himself forward towards Marcus’s body but was weighed down by his brother's arm still clenching his collar. John begged the arm to let go, but it only gave way when he pulled the fingers off one by one. Arms are a lot heavier than John thought they would be. 

He screamed in pain when he fell over his brother's chest but he didn’t have time to cry. He started pulling at the gun but realized it was strapped across his brother's body. As he struggled to free the weapon he realized that the candlelight didn’t reach Marcus’s head. John didn’t know if it was even there anymore. 

John cut the gun’s strap with his knife and fell back with the freed weapon. Then he reached into his brother's bag and pulled out his powder horn. John's eyes hurt, and he could barely see when he dumped the charge in, but he knew that God would guide his hand. The powder horn ran empty as the black sand overflowed the barrel and spilled over the grass. John reached into his pocket and pulled out his last bullet. He pressed the round against the open barrel, then packed it tight with the ram rod. Each strike into the barrel sent hellfire up John’s back, and he screamed to God as he wept. John dropped the rod and sat against the stump. It felt better when the stump held his back for him. 

Tears filled John's eyes as he leaned forward to pull powder from the grass and drop it into the flash pan. He wasn’t strong enough to shoulder the weapon, so John pressed his knees together and set the gun between them. It had been a long time since the feast, and the rising sun was just high enough to hit the treetops. They were a beautiful orange. John could barely see the monster at the treeline, his eyes were blurry from tears, and he could hardly stay awake. That’s when John saw the rope to light the gunpowder was cold. John cried. He cried and cried because he wanted to get to heaven. But then from the corner of his eye, John saw the last light of the lanterns' candle burning lower than before. 

John stretched out his hand and grabbed the lantern's metal handle. Pulling it to him caused more pain, but John didn't stop. He opened the latch to see the candle and its baby flame. John didn’t want to hurt, he didn’t want to cry. He hesitated to put his hand into the melted wax. Then the flame died. 

John panicked and sunk his hand into the burning half-liquid. It melted over his skin as he ripped out the wick. He howled in pain at the burning but kept enough strength to press the dead wick into the powder of the gun.

John noticed the ringing first. High-pitched and terribly loud. Next was a tightness in his right eye that held it shut, and blurry vision fading back into his left. The sun shone, and God's light fell onto John. The light showed his brother's gun was gone, having torn itself apart from the gunshot. John could only see a blur of red where his knees had been and a brown shard of the wooden stock planted in his stomach. He tried raising his hands to touch his face, but he couldn’t feel his left arm, and the right rose after great effort. 

When John tried moving his fingers he found that the only one not broken or limp was his ring finger. He poked around with his broken limb feeling the layers of his face from hair down to bone. He barely reacted when he cut himself on a metal shard jutting from his eye socket. Slowly tracing his finger to the side of his head, he felt the other end of the metal poking out from behind his ear.

John was scared, but he did his best to be a hero. And God rewarded him. The demon stood in the sunlight. It was tall and black, but John couldn’t make out much more because of the blood in his eye. That’s when John felt something slide under his body. It was soft and cradled his broken bones perfectly. 

As the two layers of velvet pulled into him, John felt himself sink into the comfort. The sky got big as he left the devil that was before him, causing it to turn from a giant, into a speck of black amongst the ocean of orange-topped trees. John was carried into the air as he looked at the untouched  forest, and the shimmering sea, both aglow with a warm orange. John struggled to roll over, but he wished to see his savior, so he tried his best. When John managed to turn his head, he was astonished. How could Jacob have wrestled such a thing as this? 

Wings all greater than that of a ship’s mainsail extended from the Holy’s body, which itself was a mass of folds, creases, and muscle. Two wings cradled John in their gentle embrace, while the others took flight without moving. It had velvet wings and aged scales with short fur but no feathers. I always thought they would have feathers. It had a face, but not a real face. It was like a painting of a face. The angel was covered in dark colors, but John could make out a beautiful amber coat in the creases of its wings and body. 

The angel said nothing as it carried John to heaven. But John didn’t need to speak, for John had trusted in the Lord God and would be given all that was destined for him. John cannot record what happens next, because man cannot see heaven. Only when our bodies are broken and new ones are given can we fully see the truth of God and all his glory. 

Amen.

[This document contains a direct report from Dr. Ivan Conaway, of the United States, Offshore Nuclear Impact Research Foundation. Dr. Conaway and all parties with relevant knowledge and information are currently detained within K.O.S custody, with Dr. Conaway himself being held aboard a K.O.S vessel, 17 miles from mainland Australia. The following report was sent via letter to Dr. Conaway’s overseer by Dr. Conaway himself.]

Report 1:

This is Dr. Conaway, researcher for the. O-N-I-R-F and head scientist of the Bikini Atoll post-nuclear coral research group. It is of my professional concern and opinion that all nuclear testing cease immediately at Bikini Atoll. During a routine inspection northwest of the island, my team and I located a structure of outrageous importance on the sea floor. The structure is made of a semi-smooth stone and is in the shape of a cone protruding up from the sand floor to about seven feet, with its diameter being 2 feet at its base and 2 inches at its tip. 

On the day of discovery this was all we had found, so we made the collective decision to withhold our findings until we could conclude on the structure's nature. On the evening of the fifth day, my team managed to extend the cones' length above the sand from seven feet to eleven feet, with its base expanding from two feet to over three feet. We prodded the sand, and there appeared to be a solid foundation not too far from the twelve-foot mark, but the sun had begun to set, so we were forced to conclude our day. 

As of my writing this message, it is the 6th day of excavation, and I am convinced with utmost certainty that we have found engravings and writings upon that semi-smooth stone foundation that lies just beyond the twelve-foot mark. It is my belief that we may be in the presence of the oldest man-made structure to ever exist, possibly tens of millions of years old. Hidden away from our eyes until the nuclear detonations of Bikini Atoll threw off its blanket of sand and revealed its hiding place.

I understand your confusion or frustration at my usage of physical messaging, but I am writing you this message by letter so as to not cause panic amongst those that would need to transfer my message via radio. I await your response and will continue with the excavation process until further notice.

Report 2:

(Day 10 of excavation)

It is with an unsteady hand that I attempt to write this letter again, and with a shaky heart that I continue to glance at my cabin door in anxious anticipation. For I am no longer confident in my academic understanding and am in constant fear of something just below the night-lit waves. I feel a need to quiet myself as I hover above these formless and empty waters, afraid to pierce the darkness that lay over its surface, confident that God himself recoiled at the sight of these things when he first shined his light upon the world.

The monument that sits beneath my ship was made far before Adam laid his toes to grass and has sins carved upon it that make Eve’s consumption of fruit look as a stone is to a mountain. I know not what created it, nor why, but this sunken tapestry was not formed by human hands. The carved visage of bulbous cephalopods with 10 arms and those winged, twisted things. Countless numbers of them, engraved in immaculate detail upon the rock, seemed to be set against each other in an account of war. A war, no doubt, of countless triumphs and legends, now wrought to dust and echoes.

Since I cleared the sand from that obelisk, I can only wish to have never done such a thing. It calls to me, those engravings. Not in an unnatural pull of darkness, but from the knowing that if I were to turn my back on these black seas, I would sooner lay lead through my skull rather than cast myself into a new dark age of ignorance.

We desperately attempted to reach the border of that sand-covered foundation so that we may see the start and end of that bygone story. To correlate its contents and find some truth away from our ignorant isolation. But the stone portrait of those Godless things spanned beyond our ability to uncover them. The carvings were so vast and ever-stretching; it only gave way to more terrible thoughts and implications. I was forced from the water by my heart, and my body carried me away to the safety of my study.

I would be remiss if I did not clarify that my fear was not entirely from those Decopodes, nor those broken flying figures. Those monsters crawled upon the earth, yes, but that awful tyrant below them was king of kings, and whoever left behind this abominable history knew it. I shake in fear at that endless visage carved into every crevice of that stone tablet. The image of a coiling serpent stretched over the whole expanse of the rocky surface. It still haunts me, that thing and what it could impossibly mean. Its immense etched figure was so large in scale that it was limited only by the vast yet insufficient surface area of the stone in which its terrible form was engraved.

I hesitate to send this letter, knowing that the thing God has tried to bury was brought back to light by my hand. I cannot ignore what I have found, but I see no point dragging others into this comprehensive pandemonium.

[The first report written by Dr. Conaway was confiscated as it went through his chain of command, while the second was found aboard his vessel during a raid carried out by the K.O.S. It has been decided that the best course of action for the K.O.S moving forward is to demolish all traces of the stone structure found by Dr. Conaway and his team. The demolition process will take some time to commence, so until that time comes, all assets owned by Dr. Conaway’s team will be seized by the K.O.S., while the stone structure off the northwest shore will be explored and documented by the K.O.S directly. The demolition operation, codenamed "Bravo," will commence on March 1st, 1954, via nuclear detonation. The explosive yield of the nuclear bomb used will exceed 15 megatons for a guaranteed effect on the stone structure. This yield will be a hard sell for the current U.S. government to approve, so the detonation will be feigned as a 5 to 6 megaton yield to allow approval of nuclear placement. 

We understand the damage this could do to the U.S.A.'s appearance and political power, but it is not the intent of the K.O.S to cause harm to the United States or its K.O.S affiliates. Regardless of how important the U.S.A.'s role is in the world, it cannot be understated how vast the overshadowing of importance that this monument has over that of any existing world government or person. Dr. Conaway and his team will stay within K.O.S. custody until their fate can be decided by a council.]

That night was a great feast. Not only did John scare away the monster, it had also been 3 months since everyone had arrived at Roanoke. But then the worst thing happened. John looked across the table to see his brother kissing the Irish girl. John was furious. The Irish girl was a harlot and had betrayed him. Even worse, it was his own brother who did it. John quietly got out of the dining hall and ran into the night. 

The moon was pretty and made the trees a bright blue. But the blue grass made the darkness of the trees feel darker. John stopped running when he reached the edge of the trees. He was scared looking into the dark, but he wanted the Irish girl and his brother to regret betraying him. If he killed the monster in the woods, then they would realize that they had betrayed a great warrior, and nobody would ever betray him again. And he would get an even prettier girlfriend that talked normal. 

As John stood at the trees, he pulled the knife from his belt and looked at it. It was rusted, and the blade was wobbly. He wanted his brother's gun, but he couldn't bring it because it was too heavy. So this was the weapon that John had to use. An old knife he had found half buried by a river. 

John took a deep breath and readied his spirit. He would cut off the head of the giant with his Excalibur and return to Roanoke a legend. Raising his sword to the trees it shined bright in the darkness. John could feel God's power within him. It pressed in his head, and sent shivers down his spine. Deep down John knew he was following God’s plan, even though by then he didn’t remember it. John puffed up his chest and then charged into the trees. 

John stepped through the darkness as many warriors had before. He waited for the weeping and gnashing of teeth but didn’t hear anything scary. John flowed through the darkness with awesome skills. And he didn’t get tangled in any sappy tree or branch, and he didn’t lose his grip on his sword. If he did, he would have to dig through the dirt to find it since it was so dark. He was strong and cut through the trees like an angel through demons. Then, something struck John in his nose. He thought it was a bug, but when swatting at the evil doer, he realized that it wasn’t a bug but a bad smell. It smelled like metal and acid. John pulled his dirt covered hand into his sleeve and pressed the sap coated fabric over his mouth. With Excalibur pointed forward, John made way to the enemy, and it wasn’t long before he saw it.

The beast was before him, illuminated by the shining moonlight. The big nosed, hairy thing that he had faced before. Only now it was tied to a tree by its own legs. Its butt was near the base of the tree, and its body stretched up about 10ft to the end of its torso. The four hooves wrapped around to the other side of the tree and spun around one another like a giant lumpy rope. The legs pulled its chest so tightly into the tree that it looked like his brother's bullet pouch. A bag of fur with hard lumps pressing against the skin from the inside. John was pretty sure the lumps inside the monster used to be its ribcage.

John fell to his knees, and he prayed, thanking God for the glory that was his angels protecting him. For only the angles could have defeated something so awful. Sir John was starting to get a headache, so he stood to sheathe his sword and leave when he remembered why he came out to the woods. John wanted to take the head of the monster back to Roanoke. He looked at the creature, but before he could figure out how to get it down, John noticed that the creature's head, was gone. 

The trees had shaken in the wind, and the new moonlight pierced through the branches to reveal a bloody red stump where the head used to be. John looked near the base of the tree, assuming it fell off, but couldn’t find it. It was a few minutes of searching the same ten feet of forest floor before a reflection caught John’s eye. Way high up in the tree was a split where the tree separated into two trees, making a Y shape. Wedged between the twin trees and facing down was the fat head of the decapitated animal. 

Its nose was ripped in half, and its antlers sat wedged between the Y. The face was coated in dried blood like it had been bathed in it, but the worst was the eyes. Shriveled from death, the eyes sunk deep into the sockets and were a foggy white. John thought it looked like a dog's eyes, if it had lived a hundred lifetimes.

John was happy to find the monster's head but now had the problem of getting it down. Not having any rope and not being good at climbing like the Savages, John searched for any help within his clothing. He palmed his pants for a moment before landing on something bundled together. From one of his pockets John pulled 5 metal bullets. Realizing this was a great plan, Sir John threw one of the bullets at the head. It overshot and flew off into the forest. The second one did the same, and the third bounced off the tree just above the antlers. Taking the fourth bullet, John tossed it up into the air and caught it, then closed his eyes and pressed it to his forehead in prayer.

“Lord, deliver into my hands that I will take this monstrous mount by glory in your name.” John threw the bullet as hard as he could, and it was high and true. The bullet struck the thing's forehead with a dull thud. It didn’t move. John watched as the metal ball fell into the darkness, then glanced at his open hand at the one remaining bullet. John got scared when he realized that he could be punished for losing his brother's ammunition. So he bravely ran into the bushes and desperately searched the ground for them.

John looked and looked, but he couldn’t find the bullets. The plants were too thick, and the moon was too dim. The stress made John’s headache worse, so he sat next to a tree and pressed his back against it. His headache was awful, and he thought he could hear popping in his ears. It sounded like being under a waterfall that was popping like a campfire, but it was more quiet. John didn’t like the sound, and it hurt his head really bad. The sound hurt more and felt like it was getting louder, but he could still hear the trees and wind. Sir John dropped the sword and covered his ears, but he did not fear because he was a good kid, and if he had faith, God would save him. John yelled above the noises and said, “In the name of God, I cast you away, evil devils. For I live in God's will, and nothing you do can harm me.”

Suddenly John’s head felt like it had exploded, so he rolled forward onto the ground. Then it stopped. The wind was still loud, but the popping was gone. After a bit John pushed himself up to his knees and breathed really hard. John wanted to go home. He could barely see because of the dark, and his headache made his vision worse. He put away his sword and sat still for a few minutes. John wanted the monster's skull, but he could barely move or see. The skull belonged to the birds and the wild animals now, and John didn’t want to argue. 

John reached for a bundle of branches just above his head to lift himself up. As he grabbed a branch, small needles poked into his palm. It hurt a lot, but he gritted his teeth and kept pulling. He was in pain and afraid, but that was ok. Because John had faith in the Lord, and the Devil couldn’t touch him. John stood up and let go of the branch as its needles pulled out of him. His hand hurt, but he was brave. So with his courage at the ready, John started the journey back home.