The warrior, who seemed indomitable, was
the one chosen to go through the gauntlet. It was all up to him now. The fate of all of
the people of this little world was a burden upon his shoulders. If he lived through the
test, that he was about to embark on, he and his people will live in peace and harmony for
many a millennia, until they were called again, but if he died, it meant the doom of his
world, under the devastating power of the ancients. His challenge was to make it through
the obstacle course and come out alive. That was all that he had to do.
As he was being transported to the celestial plane, where it was to be
held, he caught a glimpse of what was to come. The machine of death, as it was, was a
lumbering mass of steel. It had decapitated heads mounted above the entrance as trophies
of the many lives that it had claimed. It was littered with the debris of rotting body
parts, bones, and the remnants of what was armor and other paraphernalia that had been
brought into the imposing accumulation of torture, like lucky charms and items once held
dear to their bearers, only to never leave the unbeatable device. It reeked of the death
that had been wrought there.
As he came closer, the hope that he had held for his people diminished
and was replaced with an uncanny dread, as all that had witnessed the bulky tomb of the
innumerable dead. This is asking too much of me, he said in his own mind. The others,
however, knew what he was thinking, as they were thinking the same.
Once they arrived, they were greeted by the raunchy stench that filled
the complex. It was a peculiar odor. One filled with the smell of motor oil and fuel, as
well as old blood. The floors were stained with the gore of the organs that were strewn
about in the unmistakable fashion of being swung about by something of immense strength.
They were told to line up in the order at which they had been picked
for this particular pleasantry. As they were waiting for the time of their ending of their
lives, the strength dwindled out of the hero of each world. Then, it was our hero’s
turn. His trial was to go through without a hitch, free from all erroneous actions. As he
stepped forward, he trembled at the gateway into his own abyss and looked back for a
little reassurance, but received none in the grim looks that glared back at him. He was
fully alert, once inside, dodging this blade and that and the spikes and fire. He was
doing great. He was almost to the end. The last obstacle that he would have to overcome
was a set of two columns that alternately made a crushing blow to the planking underneath
them. He stood and watched and watched, trying to get the pattern of them. There was
nothing else behind him or so forth to pose a threat at that time. It was just he and the
two pillars of flattening. He moved his hands with them, making sure that he had timing of
them just right. He then made his move, keeping with the sequence at which they rose and
fell. As he approached he dove at just the right time. He was through them! But was he?
Just then, as he rose, a red light came on. He had tripped a sensor. There was a third
column. As it came down, crunching his body as if it were an eggshell, all he could think
about was his people. Then, it was all over. It had ended, for him and his people.
His world was then terminated in one fell swoop of the cloak of the
ancient darkness, which brings an end to all.
