THE END…

The air began to cool as the light belt drifted away from the small Peraculan village of Evinark to shed its dim light on another region of Peracula. Or was it the other way around? But who could see through all the green smog that made Peracula’s view of the galaxy impossible? The smog engulfed the planet’s entire upper atmosphere like a toxic blanket, yet it was an amazement how the light belt’s rays could shine through the smog’s thickness. However, the Asilins’ turn to dwell on the surface had ended upon the disappearance of light in that region, and the Peraculans ruled alongside darkness once more. Knowing that, every pair of pink eyes, all different shades of pink, illuminated the darkness of every wooden hut in Evinark. Blue figures rushed out of the huts’ doors to experience another Peraculan night. All except for a young Peraculan by the name of Amestley. He hid in a dark corner of the sleeping chamber his family shared, well, everyone except for his older siblings because they had the right to construct their own sleeping chambers and sleep in them at the age of fifty-five.

“Amestley, my dear? Where are you?” a sweet, gentle voice rang through the cabin.

Amestley did not answer. Instead, he held his knees in his arms to decrease his visibility. He did not want to be found. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Love, where are you?” The voice called again. “Please reveal yourself; I want to speak to you.”

Amestley could not resist such a beautiful voice. He began to crawl out from his hiding place between two tree roots that had grown between the walls, but he bumped his head against a long leg. He could not see very well, but he very well knew that the female Peraculan that stood over him was the embodiment of perfection. How he envied her flawless blue skin. Her red-pink eyes told no lie when it signified her intelligence for the darker the shade of pink, the smarter a Peraculan was. Amestley’s mother was clearly the most perfect Peraculan on Peracula and it was no mystery why every male in Evinark wished to be her next mate now that she was widowed. Even her name, Carinalia, sounded perfect.

How could I have been the offspring of such a beautiful creature? Amestley thought to himself.

“How did you find me?” Amestley asked his mother.

“Just because you are unable to see in the dark it does not mean that any other normal Peraculans are unable to as well,” she said.

Yes, that’s what he needed, to be reminded.

Carinalia saw the look of pain on Amestley’s face upon hearing her say that.

“I meant that you are unique and special,” she told him to clear his wrong ideas. “But why do you hide?”

“I’m afraid…” Amestley said in a hushed tone as to not alert the nearby moss on the roots that he was probably fearful and weak.

“What are you afraid of?”

“The others will make a complete fool of me as they did last time. They think I’m a horrible monster and call me the ‘creature from the rotten gel puddle.’”

“Don’t be offended by their cruel remarks. They are just envious, because as I said before, you are unique and special.”

Mother, you are so foolish! Thought Amestley, there is absolutely nothing special about me. He didn’t dare say it out loud because it was crime to yell at one’s own parent.

Amestley knew his fellow Peraculans had reason to name him the “creature from the rotten gel puddle.” He had been brought to Peracula in the most peculiar form. As his mother and father excreted mating gel from their pores to create the gene puddle, Carinalia felt excruciating pain as each bit of gel oozed from her pores. When the gene puddle had hardened enough, both parents were amazed to pull just a small infant out from the puddle. Ordinary Peraculans were born as fifty year old twins, and while one twin aged with the years, the other became younger. As if that weren’t enough reason for other Peraculans to ridicule him, Amestley did not shed his skin yearly, was not born with his parents’ knowledge, and could not see in the dark. Instead, Amestley went through physical changes without shedding at all, gained knowledge by learning what he heard and saw, and he had to use a dark orb to shed a mysterious dark light that guided his way at night.

“May you at least accompany me to your father’s grave?” Carinalia asked Amestley.

Carinalia asked in such an enchanting way that Amestley could not deny her request. But he also felt it a necessity to visit his father’s grave every forty eight light belt orbits. He suddenly realized that he was overdue since his last visit.

Amestley picked himself up from the ground and cleaned the dirt off from his silk fruit robe.

“But can we take The Path of Decay? It is not a very common way to get to the cemetery, but there is not a soul on that road,” he said.

Carinalia sighed heavily. “As you wish.”

On the other side of the front door, the Peraculans dark, thriving world revealed itself to the mother and son. Amestley warily walked out of the house while clutching his mother’s arm. The Peraculans were running errands, enjoying activities, hunting in the thick wood that surrounded Evinark, or earning Alchoins at their Duty. Some were browsing the shops for fresh produce on the black orb lit streets. Many sat on the outskirts of the wood, tongue painting the pitch black scenery before them with the painted tips of their tongues flying at the canvas to capture every detail that they could actually see. If the artists were lucky they would capture a hunter retreating the forest with his prize of dead ferret or land fish in their painting. All were enjoying the dark night and concentrating on what they were doing until they saw Amestley. Most only stared but a group of Peraculans ran to surround the young Peraculan and his mother.

Insults shot out from the blue cloud dotted of pink gems.

“Creature!” shouted many. “Monster!” “B******!” “Ignorant little runt!”

Every one of those insults hurt Amestley, but he felt most fortunate to not hear the most hurtful insult of them all that day.

“Murderer!” An evil voice spat out from the crowd.

Amestley bit his lip as hard as he could and tightened his grip on his mother’s arm to ward off vile tears of weakness.

“Enough!” Carinalia screamed out from the top of her lungs. “Leave him be! My child has done you no wrong!”

Carinalia pulled Amestley by the arm with such fury that Amestley began to cry out in pain, but Carinalia’s rage robbed her of her senses. She pulled him past the marketplace all the way to the entrance of The Path of Decay. Brown, brittle vines were roped around a rusted gateway. From then on, a path of dead grass cut through a long field of dry, shriveled orchids that could have survived if it were not for their birthplace. Upon seeing the strangely gorgeous scenery, Carinalia released Amestley’s arm. For unknown reasons, some say mystical, The Path of Decay seemed to instill both fright and tranquility in the few who dared take that path to the cemetery.

When Carinalia regained her senses she told her son to hurry along in a very calm and wary tone.

“Yes, mother,” he responded.

The two Peraculans slowly walked along the path of the dead, gray environment. Every few seconds a new flower blotted the dark surroundings with its bright colors. But death was quick and made it into a black, shriveled twig in the same second it was born.

The mother and son had the strong desire to witness the process, yet they feared the shadow of death that stood over the field of orchids and flowers. Instead, they rushed themselves across The Path of Decay when sight of a large Alchord memorial was revealed from behind a hill. Both Carinalia and Amestley quickened their pace, but Amestley stopped in his tracks while his mother hurried along to the cemetery. The overwhelming feeling as if somebody were watching him took him over. He scanned the black blanket of dead orchids, but failed to see anything. Although the feeling remained, Amestley ran to catch up with Carinalia. High above in the sky, a hooded figure flapped his white, feathery wings to keep himself as far away as possible from the young Peraculan male whom he watched with curiosity and intent.

Carinalia had already arrived at the cemetery and kneeled at her dead husband’s Alchord memorial wiping at it with a piece of cloth. Amestley was looking at the thousands of Alchord memorials in the cemetery with amazement, but he knew that all the deaths were due to the War for Peracula in the Star Sand Desert down south. That bloody battle was slowly leading the Peraculan and Asilin races to extinction, but the Asilin were the monsters that were invading and destroying other planets in the galaxy to satisfy their hunger for blood and warn. The Peraculans just desired for their home planet to be left in peace. But anyway, Amestley was closing in on his mother and when she saw that, she began to scrub at Amestley’s father’s grave even harder. As soon as he had gotten there she stopped because she knew that there was no point in scrubbing off whatever was on there.

The memorial read, “Inside this block of melted Alchord Crystals, the eyes of the brave Peraculan soldier, Uanedson, are contained inside. May his family prosper without him and keep his memory forever.” That was the average engraving on an Alchord memorial for soldiers the only difference being each individuals name, but there was something else written on the foot of the memorial. In red tongue paint, someone had written, “Cause of Death: Murdered by Son.” That filled Amestley with pain, anger, and sadness. More to add to the collection.

“Just ignore this comment,” Carinalia told her son. “Whoever wrote this on here must have the palest pink eyes in all of Peracula to have written these ridiculous lies on a dead Peraculan’s grave.”

This served no help to Amestley. He ran towards The Path of Decay with hot tears welling up in his eyes. Out of the many insults he received on a daily basis, being called the murderer of his own father was the worst. Amestley didn’t know if to believe those that made him suffer when they said that upon entering the Peraculan army that Uanedson killed himself with a stolen light ray or if to believe his loving mother when she told him that he was shot by an Asilin soldier. If only Amestley had been pulled out of the gene puddle as a perfect Peraculan his father would probably still be alive.

So many thoughts were flying in his head; Amestley felt his head would burst. He took a break on a gray, hollow tree. Carinalia had decided not to follow Amestley, for at times she thought it best to give him time to calm himself.

Soon The Path of Decay’s vibes of tranquility seeped into Amestley’s angry being. He had begun to relax, but a nearby rustling unsettled him. It seemed to emanate from a bush behind him. Amestley was not well-known for bravery, so he hid behind the tree he was resting on. He watched the bush with fear of what might pounce out. Maybe it was a giant serpent. It could eat him whole!

“Hello,” a mysterious voice called out from behind Amestley. The voice sounded tame, with not a bit of savagery in it. “What is your name?”

Amestley slowly turned around to face the origin of the voice. Only a few feet away from him stood a small hooded creature. Amestley was sure he could feel a curious gaze coming from under the dark hood.

“Who are you?” Amestley asked the mystery creature.

“Answer my question first.”

“My name is Amestley. Now, what is your name?”

“You may call me Jozacea, and aren’t you a little young to be wandering this place alone, Amestley?”

“I wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Would you like me to give you some company?”

Amestley smiled nervously, not knowing what to say. He nodded shortly after. It would be nice to have the company of someone who did not fear or ridicule me.

Jozacea decided to make himself comfortable by curling into a pit between two tree roots that lay on the surface of the ground.

A long silence remained after that, but Jozacea decided to break that silence.

“Would you like to hear a story?” Jozacea asked Amestley.

Amestley did not need to be asked twice. “Yes!”

When life was not at its best for him, Amestley would find comfort in reading fictional tongue writings and creating better worlds through making his own works of tongue writing.

“What is the name of the story?” The anxious Peraculan asked Jozacea.

Jozacea chuckled with delight. “The story I am about to tell you can be true or false, it all depends on the audience to believe what they think is true or not.”

“Of course, now can you please tell me the story?”

“Very well then, the story I will tell you is called The White King’s Prophecy.”

“A prophecy?” Amestley stared at his mysterious new friend with wide eyes.

“Yes, a prophecy. This story was said to be found on the Asilins’ planet of origin, Asilia, etched into a stone tablet centuries ago.”

“Didn’t the Asilin destroy their home planet before they began their rampage on the rest of the galaxy?”

“Why yes. For an unusual reason they crave destruction and war, but I swear, one day their destructive nature will be their downfall. Imagine, they’re physical appearance was distorted due to a mistake they made when they blew up another planet before they came to Peracula.”

“Really, what happened?”

“A gas that boiled on the inside of that last planet was released into the galaxy when the Asilin blew up the unfortunate planet. The gas mutated every Asilins’ complete being. Some even believe that the same exact gas from that other planet is the smog that lingers in and blocks the view of Peracula’s upper atmosphere.”

“How did…”

“Dear boy!” Jozacea erupted. “I will not be able to tell the story if you keep bombarding me with all your questions. It is not good to be too curious. You know what many say, ‘Curiosity got the ferret eaten by the giant serpent.’”

Amestley looked down in shame. He suddenly noticed something of Jozacea’s feet. His feet had the same texture and color as the bark of the tree on which he leaned on. His hands were the same way too, but each of his fingers were long and bony. What Amestley really wanted to see was Jozacea’s face. How could he, though, with the dark shadow of Jozacea’s hood looming over his head and face?

“--mestley? Amestley, are you still conscious?” Jozacea asked the thinking Peraculan. Amestley was taken out of his trance.

“Oh, uh, of course,” Amestley replied. “Forgive me; are you going to tell the story?”

“Why yes, here it is. The White King’s Prophecy written by unknown prophet.”

“ Prophet?”

“Hush!”

Amestley remained silent after that. Even the wind stopped blowing. The withering and growing of the plant life ceased as well. Amestley thought it peculiar, it seemed as though the rest of Peracula wished to hear the story as well.

And Jozacea began:

“The time has begun,
Our king shall arrive.
With light bright as the sun,
All will subside.

As a child of the sky,
Our leader will return.
He shall become the ultimate sacrifice
In order for the darkness to burn.

Every part of the galaxy will grow luminous
A ring of stars shall form his crown.
During his riddance of decadence,
The land will be vast of sound.

When every wicked soul is extinct,
The savior’s battle against will have been fought.
Appreciation from their father shall receive the good will enriched,
For them awaits the celestial paradise they had longingly sought.”


Amestley stared at Jozacea with awe, and his tongue was completely rolled out of his mouth, touching the floor. That was one of the best stories he had ever heard. Something inside of him, and he didn’t know where that part was located, whispered, “Home.” Amestley was not aware that he had both thought and said that word out loud. However, he did become aware that that one word held a lot of importance to him and he had not the slightest idea why.

“I think it would be best that you leave,” Jozacea said, interrupting Amestley’s thoughts.

“Why is that?” Amestley asked.

Jozacea pointed towards the distant smog filled sky. Amestley saw beams of faint light cut through the sky’s layer of gas, and he began to panic.

“Go!” Jozacea yelled. “You must leave right now!”

“What about you? Are you going to leave as well? Amestley asked him.

“I don’t have the need, but I should. For the moment, you must leave.”

Amestley nodded and fled with the wind blowing past him. He stopped to quickly say goodbye to his new friend. But Jozacea had already gone. Amestley looked up to the sky and saw Jozacea gliding through the air using large, white, feathered wings.

Of course! Amestley thought. The small stature, the skin, the fingers, and the wings. Jozacea was an Asilin! He probably hid a pair of pointed ears, a pointed nose, and a bald, dome-like head under that hood.

Amestley suddenly remembered he had other things to worry about, such as running for his life.

The light ring’s dim light rays were only seconds away, there was no way Amestley could escape the death that surely awaited him. He had to at least try though. Evinark was too far, and Amestley knew he wouldn’t be able to make it, but try he would.

He ran and ran as fast as he could, even if his calve muscles felt as if they had gone up in flames. The light was so close that Amestley could already feel the slight heat that each ray of light gave off. The tip of a rooftop from a Peraculan cabin came into view. Amestley knew he had had gotten closer, so he tried to use the last bit of strength he held within himself to pull his numb legs faster.

Somebody! Something! Please help me! he thought to himself.

A horrible burning sensation on his hand made him realize that the light had already caught up to him. Amestley stopped and closed his eyes. He knew there was no escape.

“Please!” The doomed Peraculan screamed to the sky.

He opened his eyes once more because he couldn’t feel any pain or light consume him. He was amazed to find himself standing at the door to his family’s home. Not wanting to waste any time, Amestley just opened the door and lunged into the house.

For some reason, everything began to go black for Amestley, and it wasn’t due to his incapability to see in the dark.