| Sounds Like | The armies of men have been defeated. Generals from super-powered nations lay slain, fighting boldly and dying next to hunters of tribes forgotten by the world. The zenith of humankind, when faced with insurmountable foes, we bound together throwing away our misguided hatred and are destroyed in our unity. I find myself bearing witness to this, atop a great mountain I see clearly down into the barren wasteland that was once my hometown. There, through the billowing smoke, I hear the rattles of soldiers' guns firing, the shadows creeping over last ones to fight. I pray that out in the places of the world too empty to be bothered with, people hide and huddle together, not for some last uprising, but mere survival. Then all at once, the shadows turn to me. The trees and grass, the very air itself seems to dry and die away. I begin to shake, my brain fighting for stoicism as my body fights to succumb to darkness. ...and then a light. Blinding and piercing, the shadows seem to fear it, they break and scattered like a murder of crows being shooed from a corpse. I can see nothing, all is light and warmth. The air in my lungs burns no more; in fact, it smells faintly of carbon and ozone, like a computer being booted up for the first time. Then echoes a sound, not a growl, nor a roar or thunderous voice of some forgotten god, buta beat? My vision returns, and there gently lifting above the haze of battle is a man, no more or less amazing then the next. In his hands is a box, at first look a briefcase...no...A radio? He hovers several hundred feet above the ground, illuminating the carnage below him like a rising sun basking some far off beach with a new days light. No screams, no gun-fire...no shadow. Just an electric bass beat that is at once new, and instantly recognizable. The man is Renegade Alien, and he did as he promised me long, long ago. He played his part. Trust in the music of this man, it comes not from this world and it brings salvation. |
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