The Thief of Worlds

A bright, glistering light woke Jake. He turned, pulled the blanket over his head, but it was useless.

“Shit, goddamn sun,” he cursed and went to pull the curtains.

This was his one free day this week, and he had the right to sleep for as long as he damn well pleased.

Squinting his eyes, he made it to the window. Why was it so damn bright? Wait a second, why were the street lights still on? Wasn’t it morning already?

As he stared outside, he noticed that the street was filled with people. There was a commotion outside. People were screaming, others laughing hysterically, and a few sat on the ground, utterly dumbfounded.

Yet, there was one thing they all had in common. They were all staring at the sky.

Shock washed over Jake. What the hell was going on? It had to be war. A bomb. An explosion. Why was everyone staring at the sky, though?

He threw open the window but had to take a step back as a gush of hot air hit his face. No, not just hot, it was scalding outside. How in the hell…? It’s the middle of December.

He leaned forward, putting his arms on the window frame, and pulled them back instantly, cursing in pain.

For a moment he rubbed his arms, then reached out again. There was no doubt, this was no illusion. The stone was hot, burning hot, as if the summer sun had shone on it for an entire day.

Fear washed over him, fear and confusion.

Outside people were still screaming, throwing themselves to the ground in despair, in terror, or in hysteric insanity.

Oh god, what the hell’s going on?

Even in this blazing heat, he started shivering. What if it’s a nuke? What if-?

He broke up when he could finally see the sky.

Above him, the sky was alight by an immeasurable amount of stars. It was nothing but a glistering sea of light and in its center a giant, blazing star.

His eyes grew wide, his mouth opened. For a moment he thought it was the Milky Way, that the stars were more visible tonight, that they were closer.

But then, he noticed that what he saw wasn’t merely the sky, not merely the stars, but some sort of entity.

Its head was the blazing, burning star, its body a terrible, endlessly twisting galaxy, and its arms comprised glittering space nebulae.

And he laughed as he saw it, laughed at the surreal hilarity at the impossibility above.

In the far emptiness of space, none of that mattered. The entity didn’t waver, didn’t care, didn’t think.

Despair, terror, insanity, and even the existence of mankind were all but meaningless.

For it had descended for one thing and one thing alone:

To steal yet another world.

RehnWriter Newsletter

Connect on Facebook

Follow me on Twitter