Fig

     He had to hurry. No one would believe him but he had to convince them of the terrible, terrible truth. He'd spent time frequently up in the mountains away from everyone, but he had to get back.

He'd seen things on the other side that were absolutely terrible. Mth was gone—

destroyed in minutes. Ursis was almost certainly next.

     Even though he was old, he had undoubtedly remained younger than most. Sure, his bones creaked and his hands ached whenever the rain came, but he was able to walk every day and run when he needed. Fig cinched his tattered robes up around his waist as he ran down the mountain path, his long white beard over his shoulder like a half-worn scarf.

     Who should he tell first? Should he shout it in the town square and hope the people there would carry the message to their homes, their neighbors? Surely they would think he was mad and ignore him or worse yet—lock him away to share their fate. No-no, it would be best to approach each family directly, speak with them, reason with them, convince them to leave. Fig would come to each tent in this fashion until time was up. He didn't mind dying if it meant he could actually save someone. But whom?

The Davids. Yes, he had always liked them. They had reluctantly shunned him, pressured by their neighbors and others within the community. If he could save them then he could count something of this night as a success.

     The broad flat land between the mountains and the community proved to be taxing on Fig. The mountain path had been easy because it was downhill. He refused to slow, pumping his thin legs back and forth as swiftly as his heart would allow.

He breezed through the first sets of tents at a brisk walk, catching his breath as he oriented himself. It had been sometime since Fig had been welcome here—where were the Davids again? He traced his craggy fingers over an imaginary map in the air—ah yes, to the right!

     As he drew close to their tents he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Certainly, talk of Armageddon wasn't something you started off with. He had to greet them properly else they would be too offended to listen to a word.

     If worse came to worse, he thought he might have to drag out their youngest daughter and run off with her. Perhaps such a thing would draw out the entire family to chase him? Perhaps even the entire town.

Fig stood at the Davids' tent pondering, stroking his hand down his noble beard. It wasn't a bad idea. How thankful would they be after he saved practically everyone? How difficult would it be for him to make time for all the dinners they would prepare for him. They would no doubt provide him with his own tent and welcome him back into the community. Virgin daughters would be his for marrying, wives would rend their wedding gowns and beg to give themselves to such a man as he. Men would give parcels of land and seed crops for him. He would be an uncrowned king. He would—

     Before Fig could complete his thought, a giant, magenta sphere dropped silently from the sky and crushed him. The pain was so sudden and acute as to not even be felt. He could feel things touching his internal organs. His back was no doubt broken as well as his skull shattered. But he was completely coherent. The sphere no doubt had fallen with a fatal stroke but the nature of it was preserving his mind. He mouthed the name of his second wife or mother

     Fig wasn't fading away into the afterlife he imagined, but was instead being sucked into this semi-sentient thing. Yes, it had a mind, not like a man's, but it knew purpose. It burrowed into the Earth as the first of many like it that would destroy Ursis. And the last thing Fig knew before the five thousand year gestation of these creatures was that he would be taken with them. His mind with their communal one. They only needed one man to take understanding from his kind and he would be their representative. Fig briefly realized the irony as he heard screams in a far-off distance before warm blackness overtook him.