The Pilgrimage

Every year at this time, the pilgrims come from all over the galaxy to pray to the miraculous Cruciform that was discovered in the side of Mount Gresht. But it wasn't always this way. Or so I'm told.

It was long before I was born, but there was once a time when our planet was a peaceful place, settled by only a small group of Earth outsiders. Now the streets bustle with the nauseating sounds of an overactive tourist economy, and the air is filled with the acrid smell of machinery exhaust. 

Before the Cruciform, and before the mass pilgrimages to the steps of Mt. Gresht, our people vowed to use only the ancient techniques of Earth to cultivate the land, and build our shelter. But in time, like all things, it was corrupted by money, and institutionalized by religion and government.

Obviously the church laid its claim to the planet, declaring the discovery of the Cruciform as proof of divinity in the universe. While, the businesses were busy claiming the pocket change of the incoming pilgrims, with the sale of trinkets and prayer idols. From what I could tell, these had both become rather lucrative ventures, and therefore, wouldn't be going away any time soon.

Today is the first day of this year's pilgrimage. The orbiting spaceport, and ground-level reception have become so overrun with tourists and pilgrims, that a visitors schedule had to be established in order to accommodate everyone. This has effectively caused the pilgrimage to be extended from a single week, to an entire standard month. For the most part, the pre-cruciform settlers have moved away from Mt. Gresht, in order to reclaim some semblance of a peaceful life.

There are, however, those who have stayed.

They call themselves the SLA, or the Settler's Liberation Army. Their goal is simple: to stop the pilgrimage at all costs. Even if it means the destruction of Mt. Gresht. Personally, (up until now) I've tried to stay out of all of it, but there are times when even the most passive of the settlers gets involved.

My interest began during last year's pilgrimage. My brother and I were riding our grav-bikes into town to pick up some stuff on our mom's grocery list. We lived just outside of Gresht City, but had to make frequent visits for essentials and whatnot.

After zipping through crowds of people to make our way into the center of the market, we finally arrived at the fruit and vegetable cart we tended to favor. It can be difficult to find sometimes, because Guseppie, the man who owns the cart, is forced to move around the market regularly in order to avoid being trampled by mindless pilgrims, buying up their religious, trinkety junk.

"Hey-a boys," Guseppie waved at us as we throttled down and made our approach, "how you doing today? Need some fresh produce for the ice box?"

"Hi Guseppie," my brother said with a smile as he stepped off his grav-bike and pulling out a piece of paper. "Mom gave us a list this time, so we won't end up with bananas instead of banana peppers."

Guseppie chuckled and went about collecting the items from his cart that we needed. As he worked he and my brother chatted, while I wondered around to see what was new in this corner of the market. I stepped off of my grav-bike and locked it down.

Wondering through the winding streets and alleyways of the tourist market, I finally stopped at a booth that was selling tiny replicas of Mt. Gresht. On the back was a switch that when flipped, would illuminate a tiny cruciform on the front of the ceramic mountain. Pretty boring stuff. What caught my attention was a shelf in the back filled with figures of magnificently-colored, feathered creatures. I pointed to one and asked, "What's up with the bird toys in the back?"

The booth operator took his attention away from some tourists for a moment to answer. "What? Those? Oh, nobody wants those. Nobody cares about the Griffins anymore."

"May I see one?" I asked, still staring at the beautifully-toned plumage that covered the figurine. The operator reached back and handed me one. I began to examine it, but before I could ask for the price, my brother appeared beside me and cut in. "What are you doing? We gotta go."

I sighed and passed the Griffin figurine to him. "Look at this. Pretty cool, eh?" He smirked and looked it over. "So what?" he said, "It's just a bird-thing. Let's go." He turned to leave, when I stopped him. "But the guy said it was called a Griffin. Don't you remember some legend about the Griffins that used to live on this planet?"

"Yeah," He said, "but those are just myths. You know, like fairy tales for ki---"

Just then--with a flash--a massive explosion erupted like a volcano on the top of Mt. Gresht. White light filled my vision, and my brother and I (as well as everybody else) were blown back onto the ground. The force was so powerful, we were unable to get up for a few seconds. The BOOM-CRACK that followed the light was as deafening as the light was blinding. Somehow, my brother and I were able to crawl back to our grav-bikes as debris and dust flew past us overhead.

By the time we reached our bikes, the fallout from the explosion had finally settled. I hadn't noticed before, but through it all, I didn't let go of the Griffin figurine that was still in my hand. I slipped it in my pocket, and we hopped on our bikes and zoomed past the devastated marketplace, out of the city and back home.

Mom rushed out to meet us when we zipped into the driveway. The story of the explosion on Mt. Gresht was on every channel when we got in. We sat in the living room of our small house and watched the destruction play out again on the TV screen. A news reporter chimed in. ---In a new development on the terrorist attack on Mt. Gresht this afternoon, it appears that the Settlers Liberation Army have taken responsibility for the explosion. They claim to have awoken the ancient creatures known as 'the Griffin'. It is apparently the power of these flying creatures that caused the explosion.---

The three of us watched in silence as a zoomed-in news camera spotted a blurry image of massive bird shapes flying away from the mountain, just as the blast was detonated. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Griffin figurine that I was holding on to. My brother and mother just stared at me and at the toy. After a long moment I finally spoke: "I thought you said they were just a myth?"

My mother finally snapped out of it and told us about how there were those of the old settlers who still believed in the Griffins, and as it just so happened, many of those old settlers were what made up the SLA today. "Myth or not," she rasped, "It looks like they found a way to awake them--to put an end to the pilgrimage. Finally."

****

Since last year, the pilgrimage continues, because the church has somehow rebuilt the mountain. All known members of the SLA were hunted down and arrested. During the hunt, they were unable to find a single Griffin, leading everyone to believe that they weren't real. But since that time, the SLA have built up a greater army on the outskirts of Gresht City. My brother and I have signed up to the cause, and this year the Army leaders tell us they have amassed energy to conjure enough Griffins to stop the pilgrimage, once and for all.

I still keep my Griffin figurine in my pocket. I hold onto it for hope that someday very soon, we will have our planet back. Yesterday 2:57pm

Author's Note

As always, all criticisms welcome. If you notice any grammatical issues, or you think it's crap, or if you actually like it, please let me know in the comments!

Reviews

[Andrew Leister-Frazier]

To be honest I don't believe this is one of your better works. The story isn't structured as well as some of your others, the writing seems rushed. There is no moment or thing about this story that would cause me to want to write it. I don't see the allure.

[Butterfly_Kid]

You're right on all accounts. This one sucks. When I write, I don't often plan out the story. A good story just evolves out of itself. This one didn't come from a very inspirational place. In my life, writing is just something I do to pass the time, so sometimes I'll put out a stinker or two. That's fine to me though, because it's all just part of a larger body of work.

And thank you for all the kind reviews. I haven't written on here in a while, and I was beginning to forget about many of these stories before you started posting reviews. I'm grateful that you like some of the stories I put together. Perhaps I will post something new one day!

[Wez Hardyn]

Good little story - very well written. I like the way you used the Griffin 'McGuffin' as a symbol of liberation and another (the Cruciform) as a symbol of consumerist oppression.The McGuffin in my story 'Jimi Twelvetrees' is ambivalent (as perhaps all symbols are originally). I see you're Canadian- shades of the Mohawk controversy?

[Butterfly_Kid]

Thanks for the positive words. I honestly didn't get my inspiration from the conflict experienced by the Canadian First Nations people. But I can see how that parallel could very easily be drawn. Really, there was a number of historical events that could be compared. I really just took a little bit of what I knew of human conflicts, and tried to fit it into a new, fictional world. Thanks again for the great review. I'll be sure to check out your writings, too.

[roarke]

Great sci/fi fantasy story. I like the premise to the over all narrative, and I like how you gradually got more personal as you introduced the characters into the overall picture. You did it so well, there's gotta be more. Keep coming back to it and let it evolve each time you approach writing more, I think you've got something here.

[Butterfly_Kid]

Thanks again. Your reviews are always appreciated.