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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Woman's Game - 13. Part Two: The Book of Revelations I

Thought I would start to post the second half of this 'series'.
It will be on and off posting when I get chapters finished; but it kicks me in the butt to actually get it done.
Read and most importantly Review!

The walls were covered in the blood of her enemies as she sat slowly purring about what she had done. She had set something upon her own son; her own flesh and blood. What was even worse was that she did it to her husband. The man that saved her; once upon a time.


But that fairytale charade could no longer continue in her eyes. It was time to stand up, brush off and carry on.


Everything was about to change, she had been drilling for months and she knew now was the time to create the movement. The date was 21st December 2012. The date when everything changed.


The Shrouded One stroked the armrest of her chair and it revealed her panel. She typed in her code and it revealed a screen which moved up through the floor. It showed her a map of the world. This was a map with such a devious concept behind it.


‘It’s time.’ She reached across to run her nail across the screen until she reached the big blue button. She tapped it three times and waited for her plan to unfold.


She felt the ground shaking and could hear the building above starting to fall apart. This was exactly what she had planned. Modern society would fall and a new age would be born.


This collapse of buildings would happen all across the globe. They would come to her begging for mercy and release from their pain.


She was perfection, she was beauty and she was shrouded; which was the worst thing of all.


The Plan was in motion and nothing could get in her way.


She took a breath and tapped the button again, which caused the shaking to become more violent and a slight smirk came across her face as she felt pleasure running through her veins as she destroyed society.


Her drilling gave her the opportunity to place a set of strategically placed bombs ever so slightly below the crust of the earth. A big feat; with many deaths but they were just mindless drones working for her so she didn’t really care about them.


These mindless drones had been corrupted by her Never Ending Face; the thing she would always be ashamed of because of what she did to it; but no, she must not get distracted from her aim. They were employed to do the drilling and report back to her and they did as they were told. Silly little beings. So easily corrupted.


These bombs would move the plates themselves. Move them to form one ultimate land mass and her message in the televisions was to take its effect. They would call the new land mass ‘Utopia’, a land of dreams and all of this would occur because of her subliminal influence.


But the idealisation was not true. It would not be a land of dreams; more like a land of nightmares.


She was killing thousands if not millions of innocent people. The blood that was spilled would be remembered for thousands of years and her name would shake the spirits of even the most eager of men.


What was even better was that she had prevented war between countries because they were one unified nation now. Oh such perfection to have war internally. You never know anyone better than your own next door neighbour.


It was too early in the day to force this event upon the world; but the Mayan’s were never too accurate with their predictions. By playing along with their tomfoolery, she was able to cause widespread panic and depression. By keeping to some lunacy, she was able to win over the world with a revelation of everything and most importantly the truth. She was beauty, she was great and she was everlasting. Follow her.


The people did follow her, followed her to their graves. Thousands would die because she was ‘in the mood’.


Would this be a society you would want to live in?


She didn’t care. It was her anger. Her anger was what forced her hand into action. She was willing to wait but she was so frustrated by her allowing her carnal emotions to affect her.


A soldier boy entered her chamber and bowed before her. She could sense his fear. She could smell it in his scent and the sweat from his brow. She stood, her flowing metallic gown drifting behind her as she moved towards the boy.


‘What is it boy? Why do you disturb me?’ Her voice was dark and irritable. This was the wrong day to get on her wrong side.


‘I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to say it, Your Highness. The corpse. It is still moving.’


With a flash of anger in her eyes, she had become uncontrollable. She slammed him into the wall, breaking his neck in the process. She strangled him until there was no breath left in his lungs. She looked into his eyes and then, without thought, gave him the kiss of death. Her cold lips ran across his sensual lips. Her desire to dominate was coming through her murder of the poor innocent boy. She pondered, as she often did. Her will would not be denied, not even by religion, faith or any god.


Her emotions had crippled her before and it was that which she hated. She hated that she desired men, she hated that she loved one man and one alone. Being the only one left of her kind, she was afraid and her fear drove her to madness and her madness made her weak.


But she would not let it happen again. She would not allow her weakness to take over her body or her soul. She would never be weak again.


She would kill; many more, if they disobeyed her will…




The courtyard at the back of the building was quite empty apart from a small skip and a woman with a dark purpose. She stood there admiring the back of the building. Leaning heavily on her stick she took in the air of the place, knowing that some point in her future she would have to discover the truth and then more important tell it. The hard harsh facts of it all would become apparent to her.


She tugged at her green coat and heard a door opening from behind her so she fled into the alleyway over the fence and without a trace; she disappeared onto the tram that was passing her.


A group of soldier boys moved forward, checking the coast is clear. Once it was clear, they guided their leader into the courtyard and brought her a chair to sit upon.


She advanced from the building, her pride overtaking the rest of her and sat on her chair.


‘What have you got to show me?’


Two boys went into the skip that was next to The Shrouded One and brought out a corpse. Its flesh had been nibbled at by the rats in the skip and there were no longer eyes where there should have been. By all signs, he was dead.


She snarled. ‘Is this it?'


One of the boys stepped forward and bowed in fear of presenting himself to his great leader. ‘Ma’am, I don’t know if you remember me.’


‘Do not mention my other life. These are separate lives. Separate entities. Yes I do, Zhenya boy. Now tell me, what is so fascinating about this dead corpse,’ she said in a spitting harsh tone.


He crouched down and muttered, ‘Just look at his fingers.’


She stood and crouched also and saw, ever so faintly, his fingers were moving back and forth. Part of the flesh of his middle finger was missing so all you could see was bone. She scanned the body up and down. It was missing many parts of its flesh, but what scared her the most were the eyes. She couldn’t see his eyes, they were gone. All she could see was a growing fungus inside the skull, where rats shit and other nasty creatures had burrowed. It was impossible. There was no chance of brain function. HE WAS DEAD. Dead… Personified death but somehow, through some odd miracle, he was still alive…


He was dead. He was personified death but somehow he was still alive…


He was still alive…


She had to dispose of the body. He had seen and known too much and as a creature he had to die. He had to be destroyed or broken down like anyone that has ever got close to her, like her husband.


Like her son.


She stuttered, ‘I… G… G… Get rid of it. Have him destroyed.’


She saw its jaw crack open and hissing began come from his lungs. It could have been the air escaping after physical death but no. She knew what it was. The jaw fell to the top of its chest and she began to make sense of the noise that was coming from him, despite half of its tongue being missing. It was almost as if the disgusting creature was begging her to stop causing him pain. It was as if the creature was talking to her through one simple world, a word that had never been used in her shrouded presence.




He repeated this word constantly through the escaping air from his lungs. She was, for the first time in her existence, truly afraid of something…


It pained her to see it and to feel it.


She crouched further down and looked at Death in the eyes. Her fear of it intensified. It was what she potentially could become if she didn’t play her cards right because of her deal with a certain entity of darkness.


‘What are you waiting for? Kill him!’ She began to yell in Zhenya’s face after standing and moving back in fear away from the corpse.


‘We can’t. We have tried everything, he just won’t die.’


She had to think swiftly and she did so. ‘Burn him. Put him in a fire and let him burn and die. Just do it. Do it now!’


He was dangerous. So very dangerous.


He was a part of her. He knew all of her and she knew all of him. The most dangerous weapon in the universe and she had lost control of it. He was in Death’s hands now and Death would not guide him down the River Styx into the Underworld. No, he would be stuck in limbo because of her guilty deeds.


He was a clone of her, the specimen of perfection and she could forever see his corruption.


She could remember… She remembered what happened after their battle…


After the end of the battle, there was a bright light that shone directly upon her clone. He was surrounded by darkness and then suddenly thrusted into the great light that was good.


And it was good; by the word of The Light Bringer, it was good. It shined from above and went through his eyes, burning them out, removing the darkness from within his soul. The light churned around in his soul and dissipated within him.


This revealed just a weak figure that had been given the opportunity to have humanity. But The Clone refused to take it and wanted immortality. He got what he wanted because of his refusal to take part in the deal between The Light Bringer and his ‘Mother’.


He was released from his evil power and was enlightened in terms of godly powers. But it was too much for him to handle. The immortality was too much of a burden and within a split second, he collapsed to the floor and the soldiers pronounced him dead.


She turned and looked away and returned to her chamber in shame and depression.


He was pronounced dead, but oh no, he was very much alive…




The shaking from the moving of the plates had destroyed most of the buildings in the world.


In London, Big Ben came crashing down when Parliament was in session, killing several political leaders. Of course, they were having an emergency meeting over the riots and destruction of the country. They were not going to escape from the carnage and their lives were taken gracefully, for they would have been tortured otherwise by the militant leaders.


In Krakow, newsreaders were assassinated in the streets by young children with guns. The rapture was coming; this is to be the day the world changed.


The rapture was a main focus in America; the rapture was what caused the loss of the election. With Obama deceased, Clinton took office for the short period of time but lost the election with only Hawaii turning blue. The rest of the states turned red, with The Tea Party winning because of their specialist theories on the coming destruction. They spouted their religion and their traditional values and President Bachmann was crowned in November. Little did she know that they were right, there was no longer an America. There was no longer a land of hope and glory.


President Bachmann decided that it was time.


She phoned up the United Nations and declared sacrifice in order to form the high council. A new world order that would be operated under the title ‘The Leaders of The People.’ She knew she had no chance of getting President of Utopia so she happily stood down and an independent, who spoke nothing but truth so help him god, became The Leader of The People. The term president was no longer worthy, there was no representation anymore. There was only a destroyed society to contend with, considering the majority of cities in mainland America were destroyed by skyscrapers falling.


On the coast, it was a different story, Hurricanes and Typhoons devastated the edges and the clashes of Europe smashing into the side of Canada didn’t really do society much help either.


Society was a wrecking ball but luckily someone was willing to stand and fight for The People and to lead them into a new age.


Utopia was being formed. The world had changed from what it once was. The dawn had passed and there was so much death. So many lives lost.


She led the people, their faith in her was unnerving. They begged for her leadership and she would always be there. Behind the scenes; playing with the puppet strings of The Communist Nation. No, not Communist Nation, The Nation of The People.


Millions had died that day, but a few survived and it would their responsibility to continue the human race. Just like after every other natural disaster.


The People must regroup and procreate or else, the human race doesn’t stand much chance of survival…


They will survive. They will survive on…


For as long as they could, as long as humanely possible.

Copyright © 2013 Johnathan Colourfield; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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