Elizabeth Barrette (ysabetwordsmith) wrote,
Elizabeth Barrette

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Poem: "The Omnicidal Maniac's Guide to the Afterlife"

This poem came out of the July 7, 2015 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from [personal profile] siliconshaman. It also fills the "wishing" square in my 5-18-15 card for the [community profile] origfic_bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by EdorFaus.

"The Omnicidal Maniac's Guide to the Afterlife"

Horace didn't set out
to become an omnicidal maniac,
but the boredom drove him crazy
and he began inventing things

just because he could,
without stopping to think
whether he should.

Then he started fantasizing
about how nice it would be if
he destroyed the world and
could then do anything he wished.

Horace didn't stop to think
about the consequences.
He just pushed the button.

Outside the shielded lab in his garage,
everything went quietly away.

"I think I'll go to the beach
instead of going to work today,"
Horace declared, but of course

there wasn't a beach anymore.

Disappointed, Horace picked up
his tablet computer to play games,
but before very long the charge ran out.

Power lines and batteries were things
that belonged to the world he had destroyed.

"Well ... crud," said Horace.

He wished that he had thought through
his other wishes a little more carefully.

Food was another essential that
Horace had forgotten to consider,
so when his supplies ran out,
he soon starved to death.

Horace was met by a vague smudge of spirit
that might have been an angel or
might have been a devil.

"What are you?" he asked.

"I'm not anything," the spirit snapped.
"Thanks to you, the world has been destroyed
and everything has returned to primal chaos!"

"Does that mean I'm going to hell?"
Horace asked in a small voice.

"No," said the spirit.
"There is no hell.
There is no heaven.
There is nothing until
all of this chaos gets
sorted out again!"

"Oh," said Horace.

"God has already started working
on a new universe, but since you
broke the last one, you get to
help clean up the mess you made.
The spirit shoved him forward.
"Start sorting!"

"But ... it's all the same,"
Horace said, looking down
at the shifting grey dust.

"No it's not," the spirit said,
and pushed his face into it.
"The Light and the Dark are
just all mixed together."

Up close, Horace could see
that the dust was not grey,
but was actually composed
of myriad black and white grains.

"Here," said the spirit. "You'll need these."
It set down two buckets, one black and one white.

Horace sighed, and began to work.
Tags: cyberfunded creativity, fantasy, fishbowl, poem, poetry, reading, spirituality, weblit, writing
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