Silver Surfer: Tainting Eden Chapter 3
Written by WarlorTVor, Edited by James
Continues from Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 of Tainting Eden. Be sure to also read Silver Surfer: Playing God, a story by Rick Lundeen set in the future, where the Silver Surfer must sacrifice his freedom and become Galactus' herald once more to save a planet named Elysia.
Continues from Chapter 2
earthward, toward the hellish vista of my once adopted home. It was torn asunder
in the devastating wake of flames, which seemed to reach out from the service
and even beyond the stratosphere; it appeared that not even the cold vacuum of
the void could seem to cease the eternal blaze.
“Oh . . . gods no . . .” I remember
hushing, hearing the screams of the people that once I had dared call family and
friend, I could feel my grasp over my somewhat volatile emotional state escaping
from control, slipping away from me. “Who . . . who dares
taint paradise in such a hellish way?” I asked to myself, more so than to any
one else. Power crackled, violently in my eyes, and the power that my master,
Galactus, had bestowed ‘pon me all those years ago, urged me onward, to action
once more. Without a second thought, I hurtled myself earthward, a streak of
already dimming silver white light, the only scene that I was ever there at all.
And it was that loss of control over my
emotions, my all-consuming lust for vengeance on behalf of all that lived on
this world, that would ultimately prove my under doing, for it masked and dimmed
my perceptions of the universe around me. Yet, at the current moment I was
unaware of this factor. For to me, it mattered not in the slightest. I could . .
. sense the cries of pain and death issuing from those poor souls that found
themselves entrapped in this hellish situation.
The skies possessed no longer that tint
of sea green that whispered verses on life in utter and complete silence. Rather
the tranquility of the sea green skies were replaced with hues of crimson red
and orange, which only enhanced, ten-fold, the sense of devastation that this
world was being placed through. And no longer could I sense the world’s life
source . . . no longer could feel I its touch ‘pon my torrid soul, breathing
life anew into my chest . . . For it no longer existed! My eyes widened once I
came to this, somewhat startling and perverse concept.
What was going on here? What madness
was this? I wondered in silence, continuing to make my descent through the thick
layers of ash and smoke that plagued the air. And I took note that as my
distance from the earth and ground grew progressively smaller, the layers of ash
and death grew progressive thicker, and even more treacherous to navigate than
When I managed to penetrate the dense
layer of smoke that filled the atmosphere, my vision was clear . . . and I
remember wishing that it was not . . .
For what I saw was . . . barbarism
. . . in its finest . . .
A massive crowd of people slowly were
descending ‘pon one individual, a lust for blood, his
blood was clearly present within both their eyes and their disposition. They
bore simple farming tools, tools that had been sharpened to tear asunder the
very earth they called home . . . I still remembering cringing at the notion of
what these tools could do to the flesh of that one soul.
Once more I felt a burning urge to act,
and so, not fighting my instincts in the slightest, rather embracing him, I
moved my way through the torrid air and closer to the aid of the one. Power
cosmic now fills my veins with life anew, faint streaks of power escape via the
corner of my eyes. My hands clench into fists and swirls of mystical green
energy take hold.
I soar in closer, only to see a
crucifixion take place before my eyes.
“My . . . god . . .” I hush in
utter disbelief, for my great-godson, Dant, from my brief tenure as one of the
residents of this once Eden-like world, is the one who was hammered onto the
cross, blood rolling from every wound that scarred his body. “No . . . this
cannot be . . .” My mind races, a billion parsecs a moment it seems, as I
attempt, in vain, to grasp the events displayed before me.
When I was exiled on earth, a
punishment from my master, Galactus, for siding with humanity against his whims,
I learned that there was once a time, not far in the distance, when mankind
performed such grotesque and appalling acts of execution.
Yet how could they do so here? I
remember musing to myself. Everything was the same! To the last detail! I soared
in closer, the thick whisk of smoke clearing ‘pon my reproach, as if moved to
one side by some unseen presence. By this time I was several yards away from the
hideous appearance of my grandson, the boy who years earlier I had revealed my
true self to my extended family and was therefore, in turn, scorned. Tears
welled up in my eyes, I had known the family, known them well in fact. They took
me in as if I was one of their own flesh and blood, in a time when my sole
companion was hatred and sorrow, Dant’s family showed me kindness and love.
And here he was . . . dead . . . his
life’s blood rushing freely from massive wounds that tore away from his person
in hideous designs. Those responsible were gathered round the mounted cross
that, if memory had served, had been the base-nailing forum for a hay-straw
scarecrow. Collectively, they suddenly turned to face me, and I was totally
unprepared for what I saw. For those who had slaughtered an innocent ‘pon a
cross were blood soaked, dripping from head to toe, in what I presumed to be
Dant’s blood, streams rolling over their visages and their persons into a
massive pool. Yet that is not what had startled me the most, it was their
For they bore the clothing of simple
farmers and yet they were demons in appearance. Long sharp talons adorned their
fingertips, their eyes crimson red in coloration. They screamed horridly as the
distance separating myself from their lot decreased by leaps and bounds.
I raised my hand, power cosmic once
more swirling about it in pools of emerald green. The demons screamed and
scattered to the distance, never to be seen from again.
“Dant,” I cried ‘pon standing
before his cross, and it was quite evident in his posture that his spirit has
crossed the threshold between the living and the dead. With only the most minute
out pouring of cosmic power that I could muster in my raging agony, I released
him from his bonds and lowered his body toward the soil that he had tilled after
my passing. His body lied there in a heap of twisted flesh and churned muscles.
“Is something the matter?” a voice
from the past calls out to me.
Only to find
my old companion Bahrnul standing there before me a few yards away, standing
firm on an out cropping of rocks that jutted forth from the fertile plains,
looking much the way he had the last time I saw, on the night of his death.
Raging fires swirled around his crimson robes, ash danced around his thin frame
I remember calling his name once and
there was no response.
I repeat the action several times, the
response was always the same.
Finally he did speak. “My name,
friend Norrin Radd, is not the question that was posed, now was it?” He
chuckled at this slightly.
I mused to myself, then I remembered the words that drew me to his presence and
I nodded, giving my answer in the affirmative. I said, “Yes.” And with more
forcefulness I repeated, “Yes, friend Bahrnul, there is something that is the
matter. You are dead, for one, yet I see you, and converse with you as if you
were among the living’s number. How is this?”
“Ahh, Surfer, I have duped you for
the last time, have I not?”
“What is the meaning of all this?”
“He doesn’t understand!” My
confidant roared in laughter. “I have only myself to blame I suppose. Do you
not have your eyes, Norrin Radd, herald to the Devourer of Worlds? Or better
yet, do you not have cosmic sense? Can you not sense that this is merely an
illusion - that your Eden is of my creation!”
“Who are you?!”
“You do not yet know?” The being
laughed once more. “My, my, my, you have grown something feeble in your waning
years, haven’t you? I am the one who now holds your lover’s soul. If this
does not give you a clue as to who I am, then you deserve your . . . blinding
“No . . .” I could not believe
this. Would not! “You cannot be!”
“Oh I am, Norrin Radd, I am.”
Then suddenly my old friend’s entire
form started to churn into that of my greatest demon.
“Mephisto!” I cried forth, ‘pon
seeing the Beast’s true form, charging forward, pillars of energy lashing
outward from my fingertips. The demon merely raised his hand, palm facing me,
and I was stopped in mid-flight, the power draining forth from my form, seeping
out quicker than anything I had ever experienced in all my long years since I
became herald to Galactus. He rose another hand and all I could do was watch,
the fires burning around me increased in fury as if knowing that the end was
near, and that their death throws would end in time.
Mephisto, with his other raised hand,
snapped his fingers.
And Elysia .
. . Eden, as it were . . . simply vanished . . . as if it had never existed . .
Continued in Tainting Eden Chapter 4
Thank you for reading the third chapter of Silver Surfer: Tainting Eden. Be sure to go read Silver Surfer: Playing God, the story which precedes this one. And please leave your feedback below or e-mail it to firstname.lastname@example.org
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