A Time Before Man

A time before Man.

Was that even a thing? Of course, it was. There will always be something before something else.

A church stands solemnly on the side of the road. Its buildings are separated, one, two, three, four.

The first building was a tower. Rising high into the sky, with white paint and orange shingles, it housed the bells. The bells were rusted, old. As if they had not been used in some time.

The second building was a congregation building. A large stage and multiple pews adorned the building’s inside. Same paint and shingles as the first. The stage was empty, some pews turned over.

The third seemed to be a mess hall. One littered with food scraps and rats. People might have gathered here, sat at tables, and ate with each other. Perhaps it also housed a soup kitchen for the homeless.

The fourth building was the place of worship. A large building, its front had a small tower embedded into the building with more bells. Rusted. The inside had been desecrated. Where there once may have been a figure behind the pastor’s stand, there laid nothing but rubble. Pews broken and turned over, as if there was a large fight here. The church windows, stained-glass, were adorned with prophecies of times long past. The first window, leftmost and the dirtiest of all, described a woman standing with elegance and grace. She carried a child in her arms and a husband by her side.

The second window, leftmost again, was painted with that same woman, her head gone and rested on nothing. The child was crying, and the husband seemed to also be missing his head.

The third, left, was adorned with that same child, grown up with new parents. The child looked about 9 now. The parents were an old lady and her husband. They nurtured the child, cared for it. The fourth window described them dead. Same fate met as the other parents, except the child did not cry this time.

The fifth window, now on the right, had that same child, no longer a child, but as an adult. It carried logs and other wooded materials. It seemed to be in a forest.

The next window had that same scene, the forest cut down by invisible blades.

The seventh window had the man growing wings and ascending. It showed it with blades behind it, scythes that slayed and destroyed all around him. Dead men and women were beneath him.

The final window. It had the man, the last in a world without any life, devoid of existence, except for the singular.

The church sat empty. Devoid of all life. Devoid of existence. Quiet. Silent. Not even a chirp ran through the building.

The mess hall had no rats.

The stage was stained with blood.

The bell tower had no bells.

A Time After Man.