Tevun-Krus #21 - Comic SF

He's Coming - A Short by @KingBritain

HE'S COMING

Look:

Carved into the grey-white rock of the small moon that orbits the swirling, dark planet Lacuna, are two words so large that any being brave enough to look up at the night sky would see them.

HE'S COMING.

There a few theories as to what this message could mean, which upon first discovery were broadcast across every channel on every planet in the Mass Human Empire. The first theory concerns itself with the idea that the message is in fact an extremely elaborate advertisement campaign for the two-hundred-and-seventy-eighth Paul McCartney album, that according to said theorists, would be a real return to form for the long dead, and widely worshipped, musical magician.

Another theory suggests that a gigantic landslide along the west side of the moon's face caused the white rock to cover what would have once been trenches some miles wide shaping a large S - turning the message from HE'S COMING to SHE'S COMING. The theory hypothesises that a very proud and very large alien had finally given an orgasm to his wife and simply had to tell somebody about it.

One other theory links it to the Anti-Christ, and that since he didn't turn up on Earth before it blew up, then he was still long over-due humanity a visit.

There are no prizes for guessing which of these is true.

Look further:

Past the moon. Past the huge roaring star that lights this particular solar system, that man had only discovered some seventy years ago and had already half destroyed. Squint and focus in on the small dark dot trundling along between the countless other stars hanging in the sky like pin-pricks in the black fabric of the universe.

See how it melts against the dark? How, in many impossible ways, it is actually darker than the background of space? Notice the scarlet red tail that follows it, a perpetual stream of sulphur and hell-fire.

The darker than space dot is a space-ship. More specifically, it is the Anti-Christ's space-ship. Inside, he waits, slowly organising his forces, collecting the demons that fled his father. He has visited a dozen worlds so far, and left them in ruin.

HE IS COMING - it wasn't Macca fans prophesying the return of their messiah, nor an ecstatic alien with an even more ecstatic alien wife purring satisfyingly beside it.

It had been scarred into the unmoving white dust by something much more obvious - it had been put there by an Angel.

1

The Angel sat in a particularly horrible chair in a particularly wretched bar on a completely desolated planet. On the wet, stinking counter before it, where countless graffiti had been scratched into the wood with a lot less mystical mystery than the message on the moon, seven empty glasses sat. Another glass, half full of something that tasted so horrible it had to be good, waited amicably to be swallowed whole by the Angel holding it.

The Angel put the glass to its lips, tilted its head back, and let the vile liquid wash down its throat. Disappointment spread like languid smoke from a pathetic fire across the Angel's beautiful face. It didn't feel anything.

'Bastard.'

If it hadn't been immortal, the Angel would have been drinking itself to death. There wasn't much left to live for - Heaven and Hell were gone, and most of the grand, spectres of life that roamed within them. The great war was over, Satan had been defeated, but then so had God, and considering this particular Angel once led the forces of God against Satan, there was a particular feeling of regret about the whole affair that the Angel couldn't ignore.