Pullman’s ears were ringing. Despite being familiar with the echoed ringing in his ears from gunfire and explosions, the silence that accompanied this ringing was deafening. His questions on why he was plagued with a foreboding feeling in the back of his head all day – that sixth sense that so many parents seem to have with or without super powers – had finally been answered.

“…Pullman…?”

His ‘nemesis’, Fortress, gave him the news that Pullman’s son had been killed. However, the word executed was the one that was exploding in his thoughts.

The ringing got louder, drowning out Fortress’ voice as he felt the world shrink around him. The ringing gave way to crying. Pullman heard the crying of his son the day he was born. He could still feel the enormous weight of his newborn child on the skin of his arms.

Time sped up.

Pullman heard the laughter of his son as a toddler. The memories of what he laughed at were hazy now, but the warmth that once soothed the soul felt like icy fire now. That icy fire oozed up from his fingertips and through his veins.

Time sped up again.

Pullman still felt the stinging of tears running down his cheeks as he ushered his son off to his first day of school. Part of him felt silly; the parent shouldn’t be the one crying. Yet, there he was fervently waving his hand to his son on his first day of life without him. The tears on his face now felt electrified with rage.

Again and again, Pullman saw his son’s life flash before his eyes. He had heard how one’s own life could do this at the point of death but never knew of the cruel torment that would play out should a parent live beyond their child. Some memories played in a flash and others dragged on as he lived through them all.

Intermediate school. When his son became a teenager. When his son first started developing his powers. What was once such a sweet memory that made his chest swell with pride and joy was now a ball of molten lead burning within him.

High school. Helping him become a confident man. Guiding him to being what he wanted to be – whether that was a hero or a villain that was his decision. Pullman really wanted to hammer home that while society deemed what was “good and evil” when it came to super powered beings, there was ultimately a right and wrong.

His son’s execution was the latter.

As all of these memories and thoughts swirled around Pullman’s head, the furniture in the dining room became affected. The first thing Fortress noticed were the chairs. They began to vibrate ever so slightly before they began to slide towards Pullman; their legs scratching on the hardwood floor. The ceiling light began to lean towards him. The dining table cloth, the cabinets, the plants until finally Fortress himself was being pulled towards the grieving man in the middle of the room.

“Pullman! Pullman, please!”

He snapped out of his trance. Everything went still. Pullman and Fortress looked into each other’s eyes.

“Pull- Keith. Keith listen”, Keith Pullman stared back at him with vacant eyes.

“I’m…”, he contemplated saying sorry, but Fortress knew those were not the appropriate words right now, “at a loss of what to say”

“…then don’t say anything”, dead air hung between them.

Finally, Keith broke the silence.

“Who”, was all he asked but the gravity that single, uttered word was immense.

“Keith. I will tell you. I promise you. But I don’t think you’re ready to hear this.”

“I will not. Ask. Again”, Fortress felt the tugging of Pullman’s powers drawing him closer. Instinctively, his powers activated, adding mass to his body to resist that force drawing him in, but he knew it was to be a fruitless endeavor. Fortress opened his mouth to speak but Pullman cut him off.

“The next thing out of your mouth will be names or I swear on my son’s-“, he choked on the words as soon as they were spoken, “…Or I swear you will not like what I will do to find out.”

Fortress could deal with threats spat in anger. Threats boasted with confidence. Threats dripping with malice. The frigid, lifeless way that Pullman spoke his into existence chilled him to the bone.

“It was Generation neXt”

Generation neXt. The last bit of humanity that held Pullman together snapped like balsa wood. They were ‘Old Powers’, as the public liked to call them. The tenth generation of people with powers that have always seemed to have been around. Flying, super speed, super strength – the classics.

Pullman didn’t say a word. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked to his door.

“Keith! Wait! You can’t-“, was all Fortress managed to say before he was off his feet and before Pullman with his throat square in his palm.

“No. No no. I can. I will. What I cannot do. Is wait”, he dropped Fortress, “Please. Do not attempt to stop me or I will forget the friendship that we share.”

All Fortress could do was a slight nod before Pullman walked away.

“Please…”, a ragged voice pleaded out to a God she hoped existed, “whoever may be listening, protect our child…”

An elven woman named Fillius used the last of her strength to embrace her young child. The blood from her wound was beginning to slow as the last of her life force drained like the sands of an hourglass. Fillius struggled to keep her eyes open; the time between each blink became longer until they finally stopped opening at all.

The half-elf half-human child she held her in arms, Scraton, did not make a sound. Too young perhaps to completely understand why his parents were murdered by the clan his mother once belonged to, but certainly not too young to understand the concept of death of a loved one. The slightest pang of curiosity sparked in my chest, but I smothered the feeling.

Scraton stood up in that awkward way that young mortals do before they gain any sort of dexterity or awareness of their limbs. He stared down at his mother. No tears. Not so much as a sniffle. He looked back towards the way they had come from. The silence, one of the few friends I had, loomed over us.

Scraton turned my way.

There was spirit behind those eyes.

Can this child see me?

I looked at him, but he looked at where my chest would be if he could see me.

The child turned his head away from me and walked. There did not seem to be any reason to this decision, this direction, but on Scraton trod.

With more glide then walk, I stepped over to Fillius.

“Was she one of yours?”, a figure adorned with jewels that did not sparkle or shine appeared beside me: Death. Light bent inward as if their very presence made it fall into them.

“Her and her betrothed were followers of mine, yes.”

With their fingers, Death tore open a hole through the empty space in front of us and pulled out a small leather bound book. Flicking through more pages than the book visibly would have had room for, they stopped.

“They were murdered by-”

“Hunted”, I attempted to correct with coldness in my voice.

“They were murdered. Just because they’re yours doesn’t mean they’re yours”

I glowered back at Death not saying a word. I received a sigh in response that seemed more theatrical than anything.

“Yes, well, I’ll tell you what. Since we’re just such great pals”, they pulled out a jet black stick the same way they pulled out the book and began to scratch something down, “I’ll take their souls and you can figure out what to do with their physical forms. Sound fair?”

I relented with a nod.

“Right. Now if you’ll allow me, I’ve no more time to waste. Mortals keep me rather busy”, the merry tone they had spoken that last sentence with was unsettling.

With a twirl of their fingers, a string of liquid silver and stars rose up from Fillius’ mouth and affixed itself as a pearl along a string that Death kept at their waist. Without any further words, Death removed themselves from the situation.

I felt the trees looming over me, waiting with bated breath about what I’d do next. With a flourish of my hands, I sculpted the land around Fillius, allowing her frame to be swallowed by the Earth and protected by roots. I sprang flowers where her blood had flowed freely unto my domain. Periwinkle - a favorite of her and her betrothed.

I was sure that soon, I was going to need to do the same for the boy.

I had found him quite easily, but even without powers of Godhood it would not have been hard with him tramping about. Twigs and sticks snapping, leaves crunching underfoot, stumbling over roots and rocks alike.

Scraton, whether he knew it or not, walked in circles. The forest was vast and his mother took him way off the path. Perhaps him being lost was a good thing. A last attempt at a mother’s mercy - allowing the forest to take him rather than be swallowed by steel and xenophobia.

Finally, the child tripped over a rather large stone, and let themselves fall. They made no attempt at catching themselves and instead just laid on their back staring up at the canopy of trees.

“Can… Can you help me?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t, could he?

“Nar…? My mother said if I ever needed help I could ask you.”

I laughed at my own silly worry that this child could somehow perceive me but I was cut off.

“Don’t laugh at me”

Scraton sat up and looked straight at me with purpose.

“You can see me?”, I asked incredulously

“Of course I can", I wasn't sure if I liked the matter-of-fact way he said that, "Mom and Dad would always talk about you like they couldn’t, but I always thought they were fibbing…”, he trailed off for a moment and hunched forward, “...they weren’t fibbing were they?”

I could see fresh tears start to form at the corners of Scraton’s eyes. Ones that he was desperately trying to hold back. I felt a mixture of pity, interest, and dare I say caring take root in me. His parents were very devoted followers after all.

I crouched next to the child, “allow your tears to fall. Let them nourish both the earth around you and your soul. Cry as much as you need until the ache has dulled. Then, once the tears in your heart have run dry, we can begin to heal and grow”

Cry Scraton did. Deep, heaving sobs that bounced off of the woods. The deep, heaving sobs soon became a mournful cry. The mournful cry then became sniffles. Then the sniffles became hiccups until those too subsided.

“Done?”, I finally asked.

Scraton gave a slight nod. I reached out my hand.

“Good”, I gave as big of a smile as I could muster. It had been a while since I had reason to.

“Let us take leave of this place”, and with a swirling whisper of breezes that appeared from between the trees, we were swept away.

I used to do a lot of freelance work doing reviews on comics, video games, movies, etc; I used to write a lot of poetry when I was younger; and outside of stuff for a couple of homebrew D&D campaigns I never really wrote any fiction. Now I just work with computers all day.

I really appreciate seeing this and it's deeply encouraging ❤️

I'm relatively new to Reddit and been lurking this subreddit for a bit. Some posts seemed really interesting but I was too nervous to post anything before.

This one inspired me and I knew I had to write something. Thank you!

I appreciate hearing that! I was worried it was gonna come off as a bit all over the place so this is a relief 😊

Hah, I gotta be real, I had gotten done in by this kind of prank so much as a teenager I completely forgot that Archer did it too. Haven't watched it forever but this made me wanna go back and watch it again.

Thanks for reading!

June 23rd 2044

The heat of the summer solstice had caused some of my plants to grow thirsty; some of their leaves having wilted under the intensity of the light through the day. It had been a bright blue sky without a single cloud to offer its respite to my delicate friends. I dipped my watering can into a rain barrel and filled it to the brim.

With the sun finally starting to set, I gave my green family a much needed drink.

"Here you are my poor solanum lycopersicums. You're certainly looking thirsty. And let's not forget you, ocimum basilicum..."

Going down my lines of growing green companions until the can was dry. Speaking to each of them in kind and making sure I give each of them some attention. Quite a few books have mentioned how much better plants grow when you speak to them. I always wondered if that worked on people too.

I filled my can again and began the process over on the next set and the next until all were properly attended to. With a sigh, I set my can back down. I turned to the next thing on the schedule.

Being blessed with such a clear day allowed my phone to charge all the way. I was looking forward to the rather social evening I had ahead of me.

Absentmindedly, I punched in some numbers and put my ear to the receiver. While the line buzzed I thought about who I would be and what I would say.

[Bzzzt...... Bzzzzt....]

"Hi, you reached Bob! I can't make it to the phone right now but leave your name and your phone number and I'll get right back to ya!"

[BEEP]

"Hey Bob, it's Koa! Sorry I missed you. It's nothing urgent - I was just calling to say hey! Hope everything is going well"

[Click]

I punched in another set. Maybe this time I'll be... Anthony.

[Bzzzt.... Bzzzzt....]

"Hi, it's Cindy!", definitely going to be the Anthony for this Cindy, "You know what to do!"

[BEEP]

"Hey babe, it's Anthony. Just wanted to see what you were up to. Plants are growing mighty big. We'd love to see you and your pretty face tonight"

[Click]

I made call after call watching the battery drain as quickly as the sun was setting.

[Bzzzt.... Bzzzt.....]

I could hear the sound of waves crashing, albeit the sound quality was horrible, "Congratulations fellow trav-"

[Click]

Even in an empty world those robocalls were exhausting. I had no idea people did it when the world had actual people existing in them.

[Bzzzt.... Bzzzt.....]

"Hello...?"

The heat from the entire day evaporated.

"Hello~?", the voice on the other line repeated.

Quick, say something, "H-hello?! Yes! Hi hello!"

"OH my god, hello! What's up?"

Keep it going, "Please, don't be afraid, I'm a real person! My name is Leif!"

"Hah, no way!"

"Yes! My name is Leif and I'm in what remains of Dakota! Please, tell me where are you?" My hand was cramping from how hard I gripped the receiver.

"..."

"Hello? Are you the-"

"HAH! GOTCHA! Did I getcha good?"

My blood which originally ran icy cold now made me flush with feelings I didn't know were still there.

"Yoooo, but just leave a message and I'll hit ya back later! PEACE"

[BEEP]

I let it hang there in silence. I hung up the phone now stone in my hands and felt the world become smaller than it ever has. The last bit of sun peeked over the horizon but it couldn't have been darker.

With lead in my feet, my legs dragged me to my bed. I fell into my blankets and became imprisoned inside plush solitary confinement.

I wept.

I agree within reason. There are some movies where it's so bloated because the movie thinks it's audience is too dumb to pick up on nuance. Movies where tens of minutes of exposition can be cut are terrible and don't deserve to be rewatched.