Do you ever feel like you just can't get enough caffeine to start your day?
Have you ever considered upgrading your typical, boring cup of joe with something
more thrilling? Now introducing hyper Space Hummingbird? Hyper Space what? A man
turned towards the camera, asking he wore purple snow goggles on his head,
centered over his left ear. He crossed his arms, showing off his crop
top sleeveless shirt. Hyper Space Hummingbird. The voice repeated, the first energy
drink specifically engineered to give you stamina of an intergalactic star cruiser and the hyperactivity
of a hummingbird on amphetamines. One sip of this exhilarating elixir and we instantly
redesigned the pyramids, decoded the mysteries of quantum physics, and beat a cheetah
in a foot race, all before breakfast. But does it taste good like
green space? Alien pondered, good is for mundane monoga mortals. This stuff
tastes like a meteor shower in a blender, bright, fizzy, unpredictable,
and absolutely otherworldly. I don't know if this sounds safe. The man from
before at it. This time he was a farther awayshot, allowing his cutoffs
and high tops to be seen safer than licking a cosmic power popsicle. The
voice boomed, although we'll definitely advise against trying that, so just take our
word for it. We test our products on only the finest and fucest lab
grown extra terrestrial amibas. Ditch your dull old coffee routine, leave that boring
partner, and grab something that'll get your molecules vibrating faster than lightning. It's
not just an energy drink, it's hyper space Hummingbird. Your ticket to light
speed productivity. Feel like the hero and your very own intergalactic adventure. Mason
Quinn's voice cut in use from a code Mason for free shipping on your first
order a cork popped drinks poured hyper space humming. We don't do boring,
a man mumbled. Now available and all reputable and some not so reputable interplanetary
retail outlets. Side effects may include temporary flight limitation and overwhelming desired out Smart
Einstein, do not consume while operating heavy machinery or performing delicate brain surgery.
Alien amimbers were not harmed during this testing. Now available at all reputable and
some not rep interplanetary retail outlets. Yo, what's good Masonites. Today is
gonna be a good day. And I know that for a fact. Scrap
in because today you ain't got no idea what's about to hit you. We're
planning to hook you up with some savage talk on some shenanigans in the pro
wrestling world, right, But man, this thing that's popped up, it's
way crazier than that, Like epic proportions type stuff. We got the chance
of a lifetime to dig into the unknown bra and spoiler, it's gonna set
up a road trip on an epic journey of adventure. All right, guys,
before we dive in, it's vital that I hit you up with some
past knowledge. Otherwise this ain't gonna connect or hit you with the power punch
of this crazy revelation. First things first, it's about time you got schooled
on what the Dead Sea scrolls are. No, don't get it twisted.
We ain't talking about some weird new snail species or something bizarre like that.
Bruh, ain't got nothing to do with the zombie ocean, Ain't got nothing
to do with scrolling on your iPhone. So check this. These scrolls were
found near the Dead Sea. That's where the name came from, way back
bro like nineteen forty seven, so like most of the century ago. Ain't
no prank, ain't no social media stunt. Some shepherd dude stumbles across him
in a cave. Yeap, some real Indiana Jones shit and bruh. These
scrolls were old as shit when they when they found him, almost two thousand
years old, legit, and guess what. Most of them are like scriptures
from the Bible, papers, full of mysteries, and a whole bunch of
stuff that can straight up rewrite history. Historians were like tripping when they found
these because they're so detailed valuable. Just most are currently housed in Israel,
but pieces of him keep showing up elsewhere. Bring what Okay? So check
it out. This week, this guy, Jace Sullivan, right, dude,
went ahead slapped a picture of a Dead Sea scroll and read it something
most people have never seen before. And you're thinking, like, yo,
Mason, so what bruh. Reddit's full of all sorts anyone could post there.
But here's the kicker, my man, the plot twist, if you
will. Despite their kind of lame quality and the fact that they're not super
clear out of the blue. Doctor Owen Abelman, right, the leading expert
on these scrolls, right, the guy who translated a bunch of them.
This big brain, he pops in, he goes, hold up, this
shit looks legit. Sullivan, get in touch with me, bru. So
now you're probably wondering, Mason, why do I care? Dude? What's
that got to do with anything? Simple answer is easy today or whenever it
hits your feed. Your boy here is going to link up with Jay Sullivan
and chat him up myself. We've got luck on our side. We'll be
the ones to peep at this mystery scroll and you'll be there with us.
So buckle up, squad, let's get it and cut. Dylan Holmes smiled.
Dylan's brother Trevor turned off the cameras as Mason looked over at the producer.
Was that good enough, Dylan? That's insanely good, Dylan said.
Mason watched for a reaction, betrayed these words, but found none. Okay,
Honestly, I don't think your followers give a fuck about the Dead Sea
Scrolls or any of that shit, but I think you'll get mainstream attention just
for going, but no one else can get a word out of the dude.
My money's on you. Getting people to talk is like your superpower.
Trevor ignored the two of them as he reached into a cooler and pulled out
a hyperspace Hummingbird. When he realized they were looking at him, he smiled
held out an energy to drink. You want one? Mason shook his head.
Fuck no, I don't drink that shit, and you probably shouldn't either.
Dylan smiled. That's actually good. If your heart explodes, we all
lose our jobs. Dylan smiled and stretched. How long's the flight? Dylan
looked to the floor and then back at Mason. I don't know, like
six hours. Trevor threw his hands up. Fuck it, I'm bringing the
whole damn cooler. I'm gonna be needing it like legit Hondo to He's bad
boys. Mason's private jet past some random city, lighting the darkness forty thousand
feet below them, as Trevor leaned over to Dylan, why are we doing
this looking for some old people writing money? Jason laughed, stretching the word
out. Dylan shrugged, barely looking at his brother. Sounds right. Cars,
mansions, private jets don't just materialize out of nowhere. Bro Jason added,
Yeah, people care enough to watch this shit. His eyes went to
the window, where the city was already disappearing from below. Dylan stared at
Trevor, how long have you worked here? You know Mason's fans would tune
in if you talked about the texture of dog shit. Put that on the
schedule. Let's do that. Pieces of popcorn fell to the floor as he
laughed. Trevor pointed to Mason, this man wants adventure, see things no
one's ever seen before. He wants to go place his people dream of going.
Tell him about it because they ain't ever gonna do it. He wants
the selfie. Mason shook his head. Yo, you had it on point
the first go round and score those clicks chares, you know, rack up
some sponsors, stat that cash. Trevor high fived him and he sat back
down. Okay, so we're all on the same page. But so you
get this red sea skull and like then what Trevor's whole body twitched his Dylan's
hands slapped him on the head. Dylan paused, emphasizing each word as he
said it. It's a dead sea squaw roll. You fuck like the fucking
shape shifter lizard people on avenges. Mason adjusted in a seat. Christ,
your brother is dumb as fuck. Bruh for real? You sure your blood?
I mean your mother wasn't having like a little extra fun on the pool
boy or some shit. Trevor's middle finger shot up, but Dylan ignored them
both. We only got about ten minutes until we start descending, so let's
concentrate for a minute. Dylan pulled his phone out and scroll through the notes.
I read the rest of the comments from doctor owen Abelman on the Reddit
page. From what he can make out in the pick, he's convinced the
scroll is called Celestial Struggle Sarah and Shaddim the fucking what Trevor said, but
no one paid any attention to him. Dylan continued, ableman is in Michigan
right now, so if all those fails, we can go there. But
my contacts say this Janus Sullivan guy is still the church, so that's where
we start. We can go tonight and go tomorrow whatever doesn't seem like he's
going anywhere. Wow, still there? Huh, all right, that's perfect
let's roll figure out where the scrolls at. Trevor yawn, good night.
Fuck. I mean when I was hummingbirds, Mason stared at him. Those
aren't for you. See. He picked one out of the cooler and pointed
to the words. We don't do boring. I'm just playing. Bruh.
I need you awake tonight. Hit this that Mason tossed him a hummingbird.
Yo, yo, yo. It's nine in the evening and your boy,
Mason Quinn's posted up here in Norfolk, Virginia. I'm here in this guy.
J Sullivan has locked himself up in this church for a wild four day
stretch, praying NonStop, no breaks, not even to like hit the bathroom.
I seriously don't know if my man had anything to eat. He hasn't
opened his mouth to anyone, priests or staff included. Nothing but prayer comes
out of this dude. But just watch, I'm gonna switch up that routine.
You better believe Jace Sullivan's gonna do more than pray. I'm not leaving
till he hands over that scroll. Bro. Mason stood up and ran up
the steps to the basilica. Let's fucking go. He threw open the oversized
red door as Trevor followed him with the camera ahead. In the third pew
from the altar, a man knelt simultaneously shrouded in the shadows and oddly illuminated.
Mason saunted up the aisle, slightly distracted by the architectural beauty around him,
lavishly decorated pillars stretched towards the vaulting ceiling, murals and stained glass through
bright rich colors at the floor. Might be time to redo the crib in
a big window like that, with me diving off the top rope into a
can of hummingbird, he smiled, telling himself to remember and use it on
the show sometime. Mason approached the man and watched him for a second.
He turned and raised both eyebrows to Trevor and Dylan. Mason looked directly into
Trevor's camera and put his hands together to mock prey. Along with Jay Sullivan,
the trio tried not to laugh as they neared the man. Sullivan looked
up at Mason. Momentarily, he bore an almost unholy twinkle in his gaze,
resonating wicked delight. It sparkled within the ice cold indigo irises that stared
unblinking at the altar before him. Damn, I need to get that look
down. I'm cutting promos on people. Mason put his hands in his pocket,
one playing with the Hyperspace hummingbird he had stashed in there. The popular
vlogger leaned in, mister Sullivan, so you might if we speak for Moon.
No response came. Sullivan neither looked in Mason's direction or I stopped praying
his lips, forming whispers of words and letting them disappear into the thick air
around him. Mason rolled his shoulders, point to the camera and said,
Yo, mister Sullivan, super stoked to meet you, bro. I was
hoping we could wrap a bit about the scroll, the celestial struggle between Sarah
fan Cellophane Sarah. The man's hands unclasped and one smacked Jason's chest with lightened
precision. Jason stumbled back one step. Sullivan's hands were back together as though
they hadn't moved. Jason sighed, Yo, dude, don't even think about
laying another hand on me. That's not the game we're in right now.
Right Mason opened his phone and scrolled through his pictures, moving on. This
is the picture you loaded to read it. Sullivan's hands slowly turned until his
blue eyes were locked on the screen. The quiet ambiance of the church was
abruptly shattered as the man that was a scream of sheer terror. His voice
rang out, sharply, echoing within the grand cathedral like a gunshot. Birds
perched on the rafters burst in a chaotic flight. A tinge of panic and
genuine fear caused a chill to settle in the air. Fueled by terrified adrenaline,
Jace Sulli struck out, his knuckles, connecting with Mason's flesh. The
telltale sharp crack of Mason's phone against the stone floor was drowned out by Trevor
and Dylan yelling in unison. The screams bounced off the stone wall and waves
of desperate, on adulterated fright. Mason grabbed the phone and shoved it into
Sullivan's face, his forearm holding the other man's hand in place. I warn
you, motherfucker, Now look at this, and you tell me what the
fuck I want to know. Dylan leaned forward. Dylan leaned towards Trevor.
Maybe edit that out. J Sullivan stared into the picture in front of him,
a dark room with enough light to see the undecorated stone walls and modest
podium on which the seraph and shutam scroll was centered. The rest of the
room appeared empty, but it was that emptiness, not the scroll it held.
Sullivan's gaze. Tears filled his eyes but did not fall. His mouth
fluttered faster than ever with prayer. Mason released his grip. I just want
to know where this is. Can you tell me that? Stop hitting me?
Sullivan's head nodded, but his mouth never stopped praying. His right hand
moved to his pocket. Careful, Mason Dylan said. They watched as Sullivan
removed a six inch antique skeleton key. The iron shank was worn, the
two teeth had tiny pots in slight discoloration from use. The rounded head had
some sort of ornate engraving pattern, and Mason couldn't make out. Jace held
the key in front of his face, his mouth still moving with prayer.
He suddenly stopped, and the world held still. Sullivan turned to Mason and
uttered only Matthew eighteen nine, what bruh, I don't know that. Without
as much as a flinch, j Sullivan drove the key into the soft part
of the eyelid, creased the top of his right eye. Laughter bubbled in
his chest, clawing its way up his throat and out into the atmosphere around
him. Amidst maniacal chuckles, Sullivan pushed the key further into his eye.
The clear, colorless membrane turned red as it mixed with blood. Sullivan twisted
the key to the right, mutilating himself. His pupil went splattered from the
top to the bottom. As the key ripped downward, a scarlet flood cascading
over his angular face, riddling it with channels of blood. Undeterred by the
wrenching pain, Jace brandished his blood soaked key and brought it to the untouched
eye. He prayed with an intensifying fervor, lips forming and unforming words.
He locked his remaining eye on the statue of the crucifix as his fingers found
the cross hanging around his own neck. His fist tightened around the cross as
he pushed the key in and opened another doorway his skull. The man knelt
back down, both frightening and pitiful, drenched in blood, sweat, and
pain, his chest convulsing as if it could no longer hold the torrent inside
of him. The echo of his key clattered to the marble floor. It
was the only sound as the three men recording him held in their screams.
What the fuck was that, Trevor exclaimed, Finally, there'd been no words,
even though the three of them were alone outside the church. Money bruh,
that was money. Let's get it edited, Let's get it up now.
Dylan stood silently, holding the side of the church. He shook his
head. Can't post that, Mason sneered. I can't not post that.
A guy just ripped his own eyes out, Mason. That's what I'm saying,
bra. Think of the backlash, Mason fained, crying, Think of
the shares on an apology video. Mason turned from Dylan to Trevor. You
got all that right, you got that. Trevor's head shook, and it
wasn't just all the hummingbirds. Trevor's hands shook, and it wasn't just all
the hummingbirds. He'd slammed. I mean, yeah, but I can't.
Mason placed one hand on each of Trevor's shoulders and looked him in the eye.
Yes you can, Yes we will, Dylan threw up his hands.
It's too far. Yes, we came too far for this. This will
be huge. Dylan's body leaned forward and Mason braced himself for splatter if Dylan
puked. But that's not what came out, Mason. You gotta get the
scroll instead. Okay, those those are the streams we need, and they'd
let us keep our sponsors. Mason pointed at the church. Well, boy
in there ain't talking, so now what? Dylan nodded his head. Hang
on, hang on, Trevor found something. I think I think we do
this. Mason stared at them, each his mouth hanging open, his eyes
barely doing the same. And if this doesn't work, we load that.
Okay, fair enough still in turn to Trevor show On. Trevor pulled out
his phone and started the scroll. When he found the pretty blonde girl with
no makeup, he turned a screen so Mason could see it. Not really
my type, bruh, Mason smirked. This is Jason's girl friend, the
Amish girl who broke his heart, So how's not gonna help us. I'm
severely doubting she has a snapchat. We can hit her up at and if
she does, he won't see it. Jason checked in at her colony when
we followed her home. If he can't tell us where the scroll is,
maybe she can. Mason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the Hyperspace
Hummingbird. He handed it to Trevor. Goddamn kid, eat it good,
you in one of these yo Masonites. Check it out. We had a
bit of a plot twist meeting up with Jana Sullivan. Right, We probably
don't need to replay that insanity, but don't you freak my man man.
Trevor stepped up, got the scoop and things he can track down Elizabeth Graber.
You know that Amish chick who stood up, crushed Sullivan's heart and bailed
on him for full body cover ups and church services. Well, next,
op are heading into her world tomorrow morning. We're gonna be right into the
Amish community. She dipped back to post Rumspringer quick redwind for anyone not in
the know. Rumspringer is that kind of Amish rite of passage where teens get
a chance to experience the bright lights and chaos of everyday life in America.
They get to taste and then have to choose keep the buzz of our world.
A cruise back to the peace and simplicity baffles me every time, but
lots choose the latter, Elizabeth included, we'll bump into her when we get
there. No spoilers, guys, and in good time, all good time,
and no need to stress about them. Spot in us early. Ain't
like they're following me on Snapchat or nothing. Right onwards, the suv traveled
to the southern end of the Highland Country, the lower edge of the Maple
Syrup Trail, and somewhere in the middle of Virginia. Mason watched picturesque forests
cut across his view of the Appalachians, sugar bushes populated the area, and
the occasional roadside stand offering vegetables at such low prices, Mason was tempted to
pack the plane for the ride home. Trevor popped the top on another hyperspace
hummingbird. Mason sighed, dude, stop drinking those You don't even know what's
in the Mason turned the can looks like filtered water, coconut water from concentrate,
citric acid, dipotassium phosphate. I don't mean the list on the can.
I mean you don't know what's actually in him. We're almost there.
It should be just ahead. Dylan said, yeah, I'm surprised a place
he shows up in deeps, Mason grumbled. They parked on the edge of
the community and walked towards the small store. Mason recorded everything as they walked.
The area was evocatively simple, contrasting vastly from his usual, constantly on
the go lifestyle of tech, flashy gimmicks and product placement. This world was
pristine, unequivocally traditional, like something out of a movie his grandpa would have
watched. The bare dirt roads unfurled between fields of verdant pastures. Homes constructed
with raw timber and brick chimneys whispered of heart sided family gatherings. A few
women came out of a large barn near the center of the back of town.
The women had a soothing gentleness about them that exuded calm and serenity,
each dressed in solid colored dresses and aprons head covering, bouncing lightly with each
step. A symphony of clucks, whinnies, and lowing cattle reverberated through the
fresh air. Carts laden with produce lent the ambience a colorful texture contrasting with
the unpainted exteriors of the homes. Mason wanted to live stream right then,
while the sun perfectly lit the area, but he knew the large man lumbering
toward him was going to tell him not to, and while Mason wanted the
hits, he didn't want to publicize their location unless he was sure he'd recovered
the scroll. The man adjusted his wide brim hat before running a hand over
each strap of his suspenders. Welcome. The man spoke kindly enough, but
could not take his eyes off Mason's disheveled hair and his purple and yellow sneakers.
The man smiled, pointing down, keep your eye out for horse apples,
and then wrote, yeah. Sure. The man looked at the three
of them. Look about all you wish, soak it all up, drop
by the store, snag some meats if you belly growlin. Don't fuss none
if your fancy taking some photos yourselves, but do your best to keep me
and my neighbors out on the police. Mason turned to the others and said,
turn off your phones. It's just deezier. Trevor wanted to argue,
but did as he was told. As the man walked away. Mason leaned
in, don't worry, we'll get the goods tonight. There's nothing here worth
showcasing right now. Goddamn they work hard, Trevor muttered. Dylan nodded,
way too hard. I do that to yourself when you could be happy in
a hot tub, playing Rocket League or jumping on the jet to get some
Chicago pizza. He smiled to the others. Mason stared at him, my
jet. Mason resumed scanning the area for where he thought the scroll might be
kept. There was no clear cut church like he'd expected. He'd been picturing
a tall steeple with an old graveyard on the side of it. You suret's
here. Trevor pointed to a nearby building with a hand painted market sign.
Has to be that's where and checked in. As Mason entered the Amish market,
it felt like he'd taken yet another step back in time. A pot
bellied stove stood in the middle of the small store. In the winter,
it would have many people gathered around it, sharing stories staying warm. The
quality of each item astonished Mason, as did the relatively low numbers handwritten on
the price label. The courteous man in black hat and gray shirt. Welcomed
them and asked if it was their first time in an Amish market. When
the boys confirmed, the man proceeded to tell them about everything from quilts to
canned goods to handcrafted furniture. YO, get his business card. We've got
to order some of this from the crib. Trevor scanned the high quality handcrafted
rockers, bookcases, tables, desks, and even bedroom sets. Some pieces
featured minimalist designs with natural finishes. I want it all, Trevor looked a
man the eye. You'll take credit cards. The boys walked out with maple
syrup trinkets, gems, candy and pies. Let's take it back to the
car and go look around a bit more, Mason said. Just then a
young woman approached them. She wore her son kissed blonde hair and a practical
bun hidden underneath a stark an adorned white cap. Elizabeth Graber looked different than
she had in the Facebook post that Jace Sullivan made, but it was her
just the same. Before Mason could say anything, Elizabeth glanced around and said,
I know who you are. They don't you need to leave today?
Let this go. The three climbed into the suv, chowing down on some
of the food they'd bought. Between bites. Mason said, no, I
get it, but it's not worth getting into it with her. Bro We're
coming back to night either way, so I waste the energy. Dylan made
eye tact with Mason to the rear view. So what's the plan? Drive
up, maybe a mile, hoof it back after dark? Anyone know what
time they go to bed? Gotta be early, right, I'd say,
if we're back at eleven, they'll be out. Kilan shrugged eleven. Trevor
repeated, shit, I need to drink like eight more humming birds. Such
a fucking pussy. Jason mumbled, let's you pretend to you any brother here
could stay awake, and they started to pull out. Mason caught Elizabeth watching
from a distance. He was near the biggest barn on the property. Why
do you think that barn is so much bigger? That's not a barn,
Dylan said. The words were muffled over the slice of friendship breads he's chewing.
That's a church. You know. Some communities don't have one. They
just go house to house each Mason dramatically shook his head. I'm very proud
of that you learned so much for this great work. But holy fucking shit,
the church. I was looking for the church. That's the only place
it would be. Man, where we're going tonight? He bulled his phone
and hit record. So we're pretending to duck out, but I ain't stepping
off. We got the scoop, no doubt. Bet it's hiding in the
church. And yo, shit's about to get real. He took a bite
of his second sugar cookie. Oh man, these cookies are absolute fire.
If you ever find yourself around these parts, just like, be sure to
grab a bite. Ain't nobody sponsoring this shout out? They're just damn good.
Catch you a bit. I'm about to grab that scroll. You all
are in it for the ride. The soft glow of the moon provided just
enough light for the three men as they quietly crept along the outskirts of the
Amish settlement. It was only now that Mason realized they should have brought darker
clothes to blend in more. What do we do if we see a guard?
Srev asked misson Glair. Does he surveyed his friend, do you think
the Amish have guards? Like a fucking dude? Tower ready to shoot you
in the back of the bow and arrow. They're all sleep. Trevor yawned.
We'll say as sleep, I'll shit again. Dylan waved them towards the
former barn that now served as a church. As they reached it, Mason
added, Yo, I'll tell you what we do. If we run in
anybody, just pull up some pornhub cranked the volume. They won't know what
to hit him. Let's just run, Dylan smiled. Trevor's probably got eighteen
tabs open already, so he'll be in charge of that. Very funny assholes.
Trevor muttered, his s frazzled hair reflecting his exhaustion, his eyes struggling
to stay open. We picking his door what? Mason reached forward and turned
the knob. The doors groaned on the strain end of opening. Lucky,
they like shit around here. Once inside, the trio turned on their phones
as flashlights. The room was a study and a sparse arrangement of only what
was needed. Hardwood planks stretched under foot, creaking lightly in spots worn by
countless generation. Solid oak benches served as pews, void of decorations or patting,
the grain darkened by age. It was nothing like any church the group
had ever seen, and the direct opposite of the cathedral they'd been to the
day before. There was no stained glass, but the large windows allowed enough
moonlight in for the simple lectern to be seen. Videos on. You're not
messing this up. Each of the three began recording, Mason and Dylan on
their phones, Trevor on his usual camera. Mason ran up to it,
expecting to find the scroll just laid out waiting for him. Of course it
was not. The Bible was on display instead, open to two Corinthians four.
Mason ignored it and kept looking for the scroll. Dylan began videoing and
waving to him. Mason quietly said, Yo, we're posted up in this
wild Amish church, or maybe the opposite of wild. We're on a mission
to hunt down that scroll. You already know it's going to be stashed here
somewhere. Your boys striking out right now, no sighting as yet. Trevor
yawned again, Hey, cut that yawning, Trevor, perk up, I'll
hook you up with. Mason pulled out an energy drink from his sweat pocket,
my last humming bird. He turned it towards the camera, making sure
the logo was visible. It's our official drink because hyperspace, Hummingbird don't do
boring. Mason cut his feet and handed the drink to Trevor, locked the
fuck up. As Trevor cracked the Hummingbird open, Dylan shined his flashlight near
the back corner of the room stairs. Dylan kept his hand on the stone
wall as the group went down the stairs. Musty, earthy aromas rode the
dusty air as particles danced in a light cast by their phones. The trio
found themselves in a large underground area with the heavy darkness portrayed where the boundaries
of the room were. Mason's eyes locked on the scroll, not ten feet
in front of him, Vindication swept over him. He laid a fish over
his heart and threw back his head. You feel that, boys, Victory's
here. They sat up around him, trying to get good shots, but
the darkness in the room seemed to swallow any light. They shone. Nothing
lit the way Trevor knew it should. Mason was busy running his hands over
the celestial Struggle Sarah and Shaddim, tracing the columns of ancient texts with his
fingers trying to figure out what he means. Dylan said money. Mason smiled,
means money. He means clicks, share, sponsors, cash. He
pushed too hard on the side of the hand carved mahogany podium, almost knocking
it over. Shit shaken like I had fifty humming birds like this motherfucker.
He shook it off and posed in front of the scroll. Livestream. Almost
ready, no bars, Dylan said. Mason checked his own phone, same
issue. All right, everybody film it so we can make sure we got
it all piece together, get it online tomorrow morning. Dylan gave him the
signal, and Mason's persona came to life. Check this out. We got
the scroll, legit, dudes, straight out of the dead sea. This
piece might just predate Jesus himself. Who knows? I lost When it comes
to de coding it. Maybe someone of you savages out there can do it
and he give us a breakdown. Let me getting closer. Mason focused the
camera on the parchment, but it wasn't coming up well on the minuscule light.
Guys, throw some light over here. Trevor walked closer, training his
phones flashlight directly on the scroll. He watched the phone's display as he sipped
a hummingbird with his free hand. Although the scroll shone brighter, the light
still didn't seem to illuminate anything past it, as the area ahead of him
stayed dark. Then he saw something near feet from the base of the podium.
Laid out in brilliant white salt, was an intricate array of swirling symbols
and lines, multiple circles overlapping one another, creating a complex cosmograph. Trevor's
jaw clenched, his heartbeat thrashing in his ears. The more he raised his
phone, the more clearly the outline of a gigantic spectral figure came into focus.
It moved, Trevor screamed. The others looked just in time to see
the hyperspace hummingbird fall from Trevor's hand and hit the floor, liquid pouring from
the can into the darkness. Shit, Yo, What the fuck? Dylan
and Mason? He stared in disbelief as the creature. Mason yelled, somebody
better be fucking filming this. The monstrassing shifted, pulsing crackles of staticky white
lightning popping his two massive wings unfurled from its mid section. They stretched outward
as far as they could and the confines of the trap, before curling back
in. The liquid collided with the salt, the powder, absorbing it almost
instantly, the carbonation causing a bubbling reaction as the powder clumped in a semi
solid state, breaking the outer circle. Trevor pointed at the masses of salt
and yell, that's not normal. Oh what the hell is that? I
told you not to drink them, Trevor growled. You're the one pushing them
all the time. Yeah, but not to you. You're my friend.
Can we please focus, Dylan yelled. He took a step forward, just
as the creature stretched upwards, eyes incandescent. A two minute account surveyed the
room the creature found itself in, each pupil dilated with timeless knowledge. Wings
unfolded from around the being's legs, then from its face. Hundreds of luminous
tendrils sprouted from its back. All six wings stretched up and outward as the
energy drink began to eat at the inner salt circle. Finally free, the
Seraphim stood in all its glory, pausing before the trio for only the briefest
of moments. Nason took two steps back, trying to get a better shot
on his phone, only to realize creature wasn't showing up on the display.
Oh what the fuck? As Mason looked up, wings as sharp as diamond
edges whipped forth in a lethal flourish. The bodies of his supposed friends sumped
lifelessly to the floor. A fleeting spray of blood landed shortly after. Mason
slumped back, his eyes watered as a primal scream lodged itself in his throat.
He turned to go up the stairs, but found himself face to face
with Beniel Eberson, the Bishop of the church. Mason didn't know how,
but he had suddenly knew the man's name and positioned when they'd never spoke.
What did you do? Mason grabbed the man suspenders, pleading, staring into
the man's soul. I'll pay you anything you want, just get me the
fuck out of here. Bennell stared past Mason, his eyes locked on the
divine being rising to its full height, the creature's lowest set of wings dragging
across the floor, pushing the salt around and erasing the remnants of the magic
circle that once can find it all six wings flapped at once, sending small
electrical currents coursing to the dense, dust filled air. The seraphim pushed against
the ceiling as the basement had grown too small to contain it. Mason looked
into Beniel Eberson's screaming. He said, is that a fucking demon? Demon?
Angel? One another? The serf? To them, it doesn't matter
if one exists, the other exists. God exists looking upon it, you
know the truth. Knowledge flooded Mason's mind. He suddenly understood things he'd never
considered. That's how you baptize your community. That's how you get them to
stay. You show them the truth. And you've seen with your own eyes,
it's near impossible to deny. He's real. He killed my friends.
It'll do for all us the hours upon us. Beniel retreated up the stairs,
and Mason looked back at the monster. What hour? Explosion of pure
light illuminated every crevice, crack and burrow. A wave of sudden self awareness
rolled through Mason as more knowledge drove itself into his brain. Every imperfection he
had, every vulnerability glowed in his mind, as ignorance turned into understanding,
shame and guilt. The ceiling ripped with the creature surge and shattered into a
billion wooden splinters as it escaped, leaving Mason alone with the pain of his
thoughts. Mason reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the church,
just in time to see it happen. He dropped his phone along the
way, but that no longer mattered to him. A split second of vacuum
like silence proceeded in ear shattering blast, rupturing the calm and ripping apart the
solid beams of the barn. The members of the community emerged from their homes,
gathering on the rubblestron field of splinters and shards, lost and bewilderment,
gasps and muted exclamations. They congregated in their night garments, unable to pull
their gaze from the blazing body above. The end came very quickly for most.
The being lowered to the ground, leveling itself for the community, before
spreading its great wings and slicing at the people directly in front of it.
The devastating gale bore not death but a curious grace. One by one,
each villager answered a silent call, drawn towards the radiant being, as though
lowered by invisible threads. There was no pandemonium, no fear, only piety
and acceptance. As the Angel touched every true believer, they departed this realm
and soft tendrils of golden light. Men, women, children lifted from their
positions in neat rows, like sheaves of grain harvested by an unseen sight.
Elizabeth grayber stood next to Mason, but neither looked at the other as the
Angel took its place before them. Beneath Elizabeth's capped bonnet, strands of golden
hair wrestled in the cool breeze as she continued to stare upon the heavenly apparition.
Her cheeks burned rosy with anticipation uncertainty as she clutched at the front of
her hamdmade frog. The Serphim's multitude of luminescent eyes locked onto hers, radiating
an omnipotent comprehension. Its lower wings folded delicately, obscuring its lower half,
another pair covering its face, yielding sadness surging through Elizabeth's veins. Its tears
spilled over her smooth cheeks, not out of the devastation being left behind,
but out of the sheer overwhelming feeling of having borne witness to a heavenly grace.
Finally, the seraphim unfolded its wings to reveal its towering majesty once more.
With one powerful stroke, it shot into the sky. She turned to
Mace and only said it was my pride, but done it. But he
understood. He saw everything now, as she'd put her own desires above the
church. Even when she'd seen the truth, j Sullivan had followed, begging
her to leave with him. She begged for him to stay. When he
couldn't, Elizabeth violated the church and took Jason to the basement. She forced
the truth upon him, with no regard for the consequences, hoping it would
make him stay. He'd used his phone to take pictures of the creature,
inadvertently photographing the scroll instead, and then he ran and ran and never looked
back for her. She'd given up everything for him. I can only spend
my life trying to repent. I'll never be forgiven, but that's all I
can do. Elizabeth pushed past Mason, leaving him out there alone. As
she entered the piece of the barn that still stood, she sat on a
bench and began to pray. Mason could see it. He knew she'd never
be forgiven. Worse, he could see that whatever minuscule chance Elizabeth Graper had
at redemption was exponentially more than he'd ever have. Nothing could save him,
not the private jet, not the mansion. All the likes, shares,
and comments in the world were meaningless, as was everything in his bank account.
He surveyed the empty settlement, in what was left to the people who
had nothing and still couldn't take what they had with them. What hope was
there for Mason Quinn. What he wanted more than anything was the feeling that
disappeared right as the angel did, the abs of which was absolute hell.
He needed it back. That feeling was the only thing that mattered, and
even though he now saw that he would never get it back, he would
try. He was Mason fucking Quinn. He could do anything if he tried
hard enough. Mason slid onto the makeshift pew next to Elizabeth and began to
pray. Did you like that story? It's part of a new charity anthology
called Shadows and the Stacks. The book feature stories from twenty one of Horror's
brightest up and coming authors, as well as New York Times as they celebrate
literary themes being banned from libraries across America. Proceeds from the book will be
donated to the Libraries Foundation SD, where it will be invested in children's reading
and adult literacy programs. If you want to fight back against censorship and against
book bands, then pre order Shadows and the Stacks today. And speaking of
libraries, on May twenty ninth, you can catch me at San Diego Central
Library for a very special, one night only Creepypastas story Time. This is
a charity event to raise money for Library Foundation SD. So tickets are already
available on event bright, but they are selling fast, so you can find
more at spirited Hyphengivings dot com like you see on your screen now and Sweet
Dreams. And finally, as always, I want to thank everybody who is
on my Patreon list, especially I want to give a huge thank you to
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the General, Victoria Schortz, Vitory Moms, Aaron, Emma Comes, Redna
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Smileys psychotic, Richard Sundel, Udip Don't taking, Kai Simbas, Bloody Mojo,
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Howur a minute, sext time seclude Softy's Prize, Red Shado, Cat tritl
Man, Mister Marcus Slitz, Dierrt Diver zero three zero voice of Sam Suckon,
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Fredikruger Ay, The Nephew, tom Me wal Tommy Walter's Assetist, Sky Harber,
Nico Kyle, the Jinger, Bros, Aaron Stormcrow, Danel Pulson,
Corey x Kensin, Dianahkraus, Jordan Humble, a man of many names and
every single one of you that's down there in the description, every single one
of you that is able to give even one dollar. Man it, I
cannot thank you all enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Through all of you out there, I have a wonderful leaving you. I'm sweet Trams