Faith Will Provide

Author: KevS

I watch them squabbling like vermin. Vicious, pathetic vermin. 3 months ago they arrived, answering the beacon. In 2 months they exhausted the food.
Like vermin they have numbers, so I watch, I wait.

In the first month, they harvested rocks, heating them with their weapons, to survive the bitter night. They tried, they failed, to repair the catastrophic damage done to their ship by the rock fall. The second month they found the ship that hailed them, the beacon silent, its job done.

Now they fight, bicker about scraps.
So much meat on them when they arrived, my mouth watered at their scent. But alone, against many, I could never claim the spoils.
So I wait, let Mother Trised, show them the despair in her barren embrace.

They didn’t see me, they never do, so eager to salvage and escape. Then too hungry, too desperate to really look.
Yet I watch them every day, silently.

The first explosive anger is sweet, the rock lifted as the words get louder, fiercer, then the wet crunch, red nectar spilling across the scarred jagged ground.
The remorse, the hushed voices, the desperation, and then the inevitable feasting.
Some of the vermin vomit, retching on their knees. They’ll be next to feed their pack, no stomach for survival.
Patience is hard, my insides clench, envious of every morsel that passes their lips, but one by one they fall.
The fights stop as does the pretense. They look hungrily to the weak. When the first death in the night occurs, no anger, no violence, just quiet, desperate hunger, I know my time is soon.
From many, to a handful, of weakened pathetic shadows.

I walk tall into the shelter of their ship, and their eyes seem uncomprehending, confused, one tries to attack me, a rock in its fist, but I step aside, letting it fall, gripping its head, I twist, and the crack echoes. The next, sleeping and wretched are similarly dispatched.
The final, sits in a chair in what remains of their ship, it makes sounds, but I do not understand, I never understand. I drive my fist into its stomach, claws easily tearing the weak flesh and pull from it wet glistening food, cramming it to my mandibles.
It watches me, its entrails slipping through my hand as I force more and more into my hunger.
I am Mother Trised’s only child, cursed on her bountiless rock, scorched by deserting children, the last of my kind.

Knowing that she would cease sustaining them my people built huge ships, thousands upon thousands like me deserted her, and I watched from my cell, not one tear did I shed. Not one moment of sorrow, these cowards who forgot our lore, who forgot the tenets of our faith “Mother Trised will provide”.
I alone spoke out, I alone kept my faith, I alone tried to stop the ships being built, to destroy them, until they imprisoned me.
In final indignity my cell turned stasis chamber as the ships burnt and irradiated all that was left of worth from Mother Trised’s surface, obliterating our existence.

When I woke, broke free of my imprisonment, there was nothing.

I saw the first vermin arrive in their ship, wanting to scavenge from Mother Trised. I smashed their ship with her rocks. I hid, I waited, I feasted.

As this vermins eyes close, I walk to the remnants of the control desk, ripping free the cover and pushing the salvaged power cell to the beacon.
More will come.
I kept my faith, Mother Trised will provide.


  1. SimonJM

    A tale of grim survival, just enough detail to let us fill in the blanks on the menu card … 😉

    • KevS

      Thanks, have to admit, I revisited this after submission and made it a little more bloody!

  2. djl

    I really liked the collective build-up of timidity, powerlessness, and the nervous energy of a predator!

    • KevS

      Thank you so much for your comment, I’m glad you liked it!

  3. Hari Navarro

    That was clever, I have to admit I did have to read it a few times to ‘get it’ – but then, I am pretty slow on the uptake 😉

    • KevS

      Thank you Hari, if there is a way that you think it could be simplified, so there’s not as much work to get it, I’d be really grateful to hear it.

      • Hari Navarro

        No KevS. It’s your craft and its perfect as you have made it. IMO you should never try and channel your voice so as to please all. Personally, I loved it, just took me a while to absorb… means it has depth. If you change it then it wont be you anymore.

        • KevS

          Thanks Hari, mostly I want to improve my ability at telling the stories in my head, I understand and respect your words.

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