“You’ve come just in time,” whispered Kevin to Death, who was thrilled to be a part of something special. The crowd of wide-eyed aliens cast their robotic gaze on him and clapped in unison. “Today is the rapture.”
Before Death could ask what the rapture was, Kevin sprung up to face the crowd, his arms outstretched again. “My fellow members,” he bellowed. “I give you our Messiah and Messenger…Kenny Silverman.” The crowd upped the volume of its eerie ovation. Kevin motioned that he and Death get off the stage, and they found two empty seats. Death sat down next to a woman, whose pretty features were obscured by deep bags under her eyes. She smiled at Death, a strained, mechanical smile, and turned back to the stage.
A man in purple robes appeared at the tip of the stage to strong waves of applause. He stood with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out, looking up towards the ceiling. His white smile gleamed like the top of his head and reflected the fluorescent lighting that poured down upon them. His charisma transcended the uniformity of the group.
“Brothers and sisters,” said Kenny in a loud, booming voice that gave even Death chills. “Here we are: the day we’ve all been waiting for.”
“Wait,” said Death to Kevin, “so what exactly is the—“
“Shhh,” whipped a harsh sound from Kevin’s tightened lips. He and all those around him were positively enthralled by the Messiah Messenger Kenny Silverman.
“I have told you for months and months that the great Lord Backspace would provide. And here he is, providing.” Death silently admired Kenny’s captivating rhetoric; the complete trance he was putting on his followers made them hang on every word. “Today he has talked to me, and agreed to take us with him to the extraterrestrial realm that he occupies,” continued Kenny. Suddenly he looked completely sober. He leaned his head forward and said in a loud whisper, “But first, we must shed our mortal shells.”
Death looked around, confused, though he seemed to be the only one. Most people in the crowd were turning to each other and nodding solemnly, while others looked up at Kenny proudly. Death saw a select few people who looked terrified.
A few men walked to the front of the crowd and began handing out small plastic cups from a silver tray. When Death received his cup he was hit with a strong aroma of pecans and chalk. “Brothers and sisters, I have filled these cups with what we need. Drink them, and we shall be free to join the Lord our Backspace.” Kenny held his arms out to his sides and looked up to the ceiling as many people without hesitation tossed their drinks back and smacked their lips together. Some people were looking at their cups for some time, but eventually everyone was finished; even Death, who thought the concoction was oddly reminiscent of something. Then Kenny withdrew a long knife from his pocket as the crowd began singing in unison:
All the children in the house,
Dejected with a frown.
The fire is coming, the Lord is coming,
Burn the mother down.
Death listened to the verse a few times before capturing all the words. The tune was winding and unnerving and Death was frightened. Kenny Silverman held his blade above his head. “Take us, oh Lord, oh greatness that is Backspace.” The crowd’s chanting melody grew louder and louder, reverberating across the entire room, pounding into Death’s skull until he needed to cover his ears.
Then everything happened very quickly. The singing stopped and the room fell dead silent as the Messiah Messenger Kenny Silverman plunged the blade into his stomach and shifted it out his side. He immediately fell over, his face a blank canvas, and the crowd collectively gasped. Some people whimpered, others stifled a scream, and all was silent again.
“Now, we wait,” whispered Kevin. “We wait until the poison takes control and we shed our fleshy outer bodies.”
Death took several seconds to register what Kevin had said, and then shot a glance in his direction. “Did you say poison?” asked Death.
“The drink. The poison will rid us of our mortal shells and take us to Lord Backspace,” said Kenny, closing his eyes gently. Death was at a complete loss for words or any coherent thought process. These people were expecting to die and, even with Death himself in the room with them, they would not. He looked around at everyone, who had their eyes closed expecting to pass quickly and fall over. But they waited several minutes as nothing happened. Then Kenny Silverman stood up.
“Is this it?” he asked, brushing himself off. Everyone heard him speak and one by one their eyes shot open, staring up in horror. “Have we shed our outer bodies? Is Lord Backspace here?” He settled his palms on his stomach, drenching them in blood and other bodily items. “What…what…” his hands darted all around his body as though he were trying to swat at a scuttling spider. Death grew hot and tense and looked down at the floor. “I’m not dead.”
A woman screamed in the crowd and fainted, and everyone rushed the stage at the same time, a cloud of senseless noise rattling among them. As they pushed and pushed, fighting to get up on the stage for whatever reason (for, as Death found, humans are quite unnaturally unreasonable) a torrid fray broke out. Death stayed behind the crowd as Kevin was one of the last to jump in. They fought, threw chairs, pushed, punched, and clawed at each other. A lone woman ran back and forth behind the crowd hooting like an owl as a few people decided to use their chairs not for fighting but for dancing upon. Soon everyone was tired of battling and began partying, piggy backing, and shouting obscenities instead. All the while, Kenny Silverman stood on stage marveling at his
