Two were in the clearing of a small lush forest. Ears sharp, eyes sharper. They look up. Around. Behind. Back down, at their quite pale, muscle-y arms, something not quite human, a near-grey thick unnatural branch which led to a node, five burly logs sticking from it. The arm. The hand of theirs, that is what they look at. What is in its grasp?
One had a strange, foreign plant in their hands. But not too strange. Nor foreign. This was a mushroom, a medium-sized one, one with a fancy green cap, overlaid with crimson zig-zagging stripes - very thin ones, but many in number - which seemed to stretch on and on, somehow, on the finite surface. The stalk of it was quite long, having a nice, dark tan color on it. There were even thoughtful strips of blue near its bottom...
Was it poisonous? Could it kill? They did not know, no, maybe not even care - could one tell if they did or did not? Far from familiar territory and even farther from home, they had no choice. Eat the food. Eat it now. One, a schizo, pulled out his dagger, to split and share it, the other - a schizo - already found a tree stump of satisfactory shape, a table of nature, where the mushroom was set down, ready to be cut. The schizo with the blade approached. And as he thrust down to cut!
It only buried itself into wood. The other schizo. He had eaten it, the mushroom, in whole, a shit-eating grin on his face as he chewed, chewed, swallowed. The first schizo stood silent for seconds. Thrust! Towards his companion, but at the air. Fucker. They'll find another one later, a sentence communicated with no words. The less words the better here.
About a half hour had passed now, and they strolled, though not entirely joyously, through the light green forest and out of it. No more mushrooms. A sad affair. At least, for the hungry schizo. The full schizo, on the other hand, had never perhaps felt better. In a strange sort of way, he did not just feel satiated, but satisfied in a way he could not explain. Today suddenly became brighter... something was telling him that.
At some point in time and some place in the endless fields of grass, Gashi Rranama, the Errata, a descendant of a species which could take on gods, servant to his King and to Primeval Chaos, ascended.
The first thing Gashi had noticed was that in front of him, a fierce tsunami of colors and lights raged against the backdrop of the planet he had left behind. Clouds formerly white as snow now tinted themselves a variety of shades with no end; the rolling land beneath his feet shifted and rumbled, the green of plants mixing with the brown of dirt and the grey of stone as if all the world were an artist's palette.
With as much suddenness as when reality first distorted, the chaotic canvas of Gashi's vision began to coagulate. Quickly, the colors of the sky melted together and became a dark tint above and below the heavens; white twinkly dots populated the firmament and smeared the darkness with their faint lights. It was at this point where Gashi felt trapped within something intangible. He had no knowledge of his surroundings, not the faintest clue of why everything had turned to night, yet the schizo could not escape a peculiar feeling of familiarity about it all.
Without any warning, the psuedo-stars in the semi-night sky rapidly flickered and faded out, one by one. It did not escape Gashi's sight, of course, but contrary to his expectations, no emotion arose from his inner being about it. The Errata was somehow certain that there was a sense of significance to this sight, but once again, he could not explain to himself any details: like a clay pot shattered, they were lost to him, the tiny pieces no longer resembling their whole, never to be rebuilt.
The scene changed again. The day had returned, with varying colors embedded like patchwork within the heavens, but it did not do so with any cheerfulness. Now, Gashi's surroundings universally took on a grey, lifeless hue. Gashi, without explanation, rushed with haste towards something unknown, and as he looked around, he was no longer alone with his friend.
Carbon copies of himself, hazy in form, were running too. Together, they moved almost as a horde would, packed together and ready to make war against an invisible enemy. Unexpectedly, one of the copies, more definite in shape than the rest, grabbed Gashi's shoulders and shook them desperately; the original one pushed him off and rapidly continued on. Nothing would stop them.
After a timeless period of endless rushing and flowing through the land, Gashi sighted the facade of a great stone temple in the distance. On its walls, symbols both familiar and unfamiliar could be seen; the signs of Primeval Chaos were carved alongside an image of cheese and what appeared to be a crown bearing the words "eRRatA ATyKO" upon its band. The schizo ran once more, reaching towards the place of worship he swore he recognized, but could not recall any memory of.
It was not built to last. Gashi had not even made it to the temple's grandiose perimeter before a bright and verdant light enveloped its entirety, radiating and transforming its shape from a solid object into a ball of essence soaring into the air. The schizo came to a screeching halt as the essence did, a pair of eyes gazed beyond the sphere's surface and into its depths.
A flood of emotions rushed into Gashi Rranama. Sentiments of hope, of love, of upcoming fortune and happiness and prosperity were all to be found, he suddenly knew, within this former temple now condensed into an indescribable spiritual mass. Thoughts snaked into his mind, different in words and in feeling, but all carrying the same message.
The mother of the earth is coming.
Here and now would be the climax of his experience. Gashi's muscles found themselves to be tense, his pupils shrunk and locked to the formless apparition in front and above him. She is coming. In a few moments, Gashi realized, her beautiful song will be heard. A mother's melody to her children will reach the schizo's enlargened ears, and Gashi would be happy and free, united with nature under a caring, loving being.
...
...
...where is she?
For the first time since his ascension began, Gashi was overcome with a tsunami of dread and despair. What was happening now? Was it supposed to be like this? Was there not just the brightest future in front of him mere moments ago? Something is wrong. Unright. Not what it should be. This is not what it should be.
The ball of energy now found itself sizzling with intensity, wisps of dissipating green breaking off from the core. Its unexpected cacophony continued to permeate Gashi's ears, punctuated with bursts of weeping from somewhere unknown which soon began to mix with Gashi's own. Unexpectedly, the spiritual sphere began to move once more, coasting off westward. Gashi could do nothing more but follow it. Follow it. Follow it...
Gashi's companion was tired. Gashi was running again. Somewhere. Somewhere fast. He had to follow him, he was so tired, he had to push on for the sake of his companion. Gashi did not hear his friend's pleas, the same ones he yelled for more than a few hours, with no dice. The friend was hungry. Don't eat the green-with-red mushrooms. This is what he knew now.
Half an hour later the minor forest they were sprinting through cut off into a deeper layer. Gashi's friend could feel something was wrong. He stopped. He begged, one final appeal to his delirious pal.
Gashi did not listen. He was babbling now, crying now, shrieking now, horridly and rabidly enunciating grief which he could not comprehend. In he ran, into the deep forest. Gashi's friend heard movement from something much bigger than himself. Thud. Thud. Crash.
Gashi's friend then heard one shrill, terminal screech.
And the forest was again silent.