This is something I originally posted in response to a writing prompt. I have since written a continuance, just to test the waters on whether I should flesh it out or not.
I crept quietly through the the overgrown bushes and weeds, careful not to get too close to the rotting structure in their midst. It looked like it used to be a house, and that meant someone may have claimed it in the After. Probably someone dangerous, since shelter like that had to be defended.
Besides, I didn’t want the house. For one person on her own, moving around was safer. Stay in one place too long, and you inevitably catch someone’s attention. No, I wanted that big, fat snake sunning himself on what used to be a driveway.
Loading a stone in my improvised sling, I kept back far enough not to disturb my future dinner/shoes. Here’s the windup… I think to myself as I whir the stone over my head. I let loose, watching my projectile crush the head of the snake. And the pitch! The crowd goes wild!
As quickly as I can, I dash to secure my prize. Unfortunately, the real world had different ideas. Two-thirds of the way there, my foot catches on something and I go down. Whatever I kicked goes rolling, and hits the cement in front of me with an echoing clatter.
Shit. And things were going so well….
I barely string the thought together before two men stalk out of the house carrying spiked clubs bigger than my thigh, not even pausing as they approach me. I try to get up, start to run, when something heavy embeds itself in my back, knocking me to the ground and driving my breath away. It feels like one of those wicked clubs, because there is a stabbing, searing pain that goes with it.
I start to taste blood in my mouth as a kick rolls me over. One of these filthy asshole is standing over me, grinning.
“Didn’t even bruise the meat this time, brother!”
“Just kill it already. Adrenaline makes them taste bitter,” the other replies in a bored tone. That’s when I realize how far over from bad to worse I’ve gone.
They are going to fucking EAT me.
I’d heard that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. As the monster standing over me pulled out a knife to slit my throat, I had one last thought before I blacked out: they certainly got the “flash” part right.
************************************
A bright light blinds me even before my eyes open. Apparently I sleep-walked all the way to the end of the tunnel, and this is the light. It’s so bright it hurts…
Wait. Hurts? I’m dead… should I still be feeling pain?
Just my luck. I can’t even die properly.
“AIE YJU MIG WUYW UMSYMXUJ”
“The fuck?” I croak. “Angels don’t speak English?”
“DU YJU MIG YMTUPH UMSYMXUJ”
Please stop screaming I beg to myself with a groan. “Fuck. Angels speaking gibberish. Great” I mutter aloud.
“Hijja. Hgorr mig ymtuph gsiets.”
“At least it’s quieter gibberish,” I sigh. The bright lights are bad enough, I think to myself.
Huh. They dimmed. Awesome.
I open my eyes and sit up. Being dead looks a lot like a weird hospital room. And it smells funny. I smell funny. I take a sniff of myself.
Correction, I don’t smell at all. At least the dirt from a decade living in the After didn’t follow me here. Cool. At least something went right when I died.
“AIE YJU MIG - is vij vexq hyqu. SIMON! TUG GI JIIN GDI ONNUWOYGUPA!”
“Again with the screaming gibberish,” I moan. “I can’t understand you! Stop it!”
A door at the end of the room vanishes and the most boring looking angel I’ve ever seen walks in. He opens his mouth to talk, but before he can say anything, I hold up my hand and shake my head.
“Save your breath…ish thing, whatever you have instead of breath. I don’t speak gibberish, or angel language, or whatever so I won’t understand you.”
The disembodied voice starts shrieking at this point “DU YRU MIG-!”
The angel in front of me interrupts the voice “It’s okay, guys, I got it.”
“Holy shit, you speak English!” I blurt out. “Sorry.” Suddenly I realize I just swore at an angel.
I really cannot die properly, apparently.
He laughs at me, making me blush even more. “I’m not an angel, I’m Simon. And you aren’t dead. I’m human, by the way.”
“So they’re angels?” I ask, point up vaguely.
“No,” he chuckles. “They’re…. hmm…”
“Miys,“ the disembodied voice supplies.
“Right,” he coughs. “Miys. Aliens, to be general, Miys to be specific. Not angels.”
“Nope,” he replies with a grin, popping the ‘p’. “It’s a ship. Her name is The Ark.”
“Suj nywu oh Yjq.” The Miys butt in.
Simon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Which no human is physiologically capable of saying. Given it’s purpose, the Ark works for humans, guys. We’ve been over this.”
“Vomu.” The Miys reply. If they were human, I would say they were….
“Are they *sulking*?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Simon says. “Even with a translator, humans are just physically incapable of speaking their language, and they tend to pout about it. Anyway-”
“You said ‘Given it’s purpose’,” I cut him off. “What purpose.”
It’s Simon’s turn to blush. “Oh yeah…. that… you see… well…. It’s an Ark, right?”
“Miys”, they butt in again.
Huh?I ask myself, confused.
Simon rolls his eyes and coughs. “Thanks, assholes.” He mutters. “ ‘Noah’ and ‘Miys’ are the same word…”
“WHAT!?” I squawk as it starts clicking what he is saying. “You mean. No. Nuh uh. Nope.”
“Yep,” Simon sighs again. “They’re Noah, this is the Ark.”
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