I have no rights to His Dark Materials the trilogy.
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He was standing up, but could not remember when he stood up. He couldn't remember anything.
It seemed like nighttime just before dawn. He was in a forest, and standing in the middle of a rocky stream. He looked around, slowly trying to recall what had happened. When he looked down, he jumped at the sight of his own body in the water, perfectly still. His head, the one he saw, seemed to be brutally deformed with a bloodied crack.
'I have done pre-emptive penance every day of my adult life.'
In a flash, he remembered himself saying these words. He was Father Gomez…yes… of the Constitutional Court of Discipline. He was on a mission, to nullify the possible failure of the church's prevention of original Sin to be renewed. He had been… following the tempter, a woman, for a while now. He could not remember for how long.
'Whatever happens to anyone else, he will make his way like the arrow of God, straight to the child, and strike her down.'
This was from the president. Now Father Gomez remembered that he must kill the child. She would bring Sin to the world unless she removed her from it. But what had happened? Surely he was following the tempter… he remembered traveling… and yes. He did find the child.
'Keep still, and be quiet. I have your daemon in my hand.'
Father Gomez was so close to succeeding in his mission when he felt the pain of his daemon being pulled away. Pulled… through the wood and near the stream, he followed the man who had somehow gotten hold of her. But it wasn't a man…. it was an angel! He fought the angel, with as much strength he had in his anguished state, and eventually she was released.
Then he had made a mistake.
He charged at the angel who had opposed the will of God, and his foot slipped on the wet rocks near the peaceful stream. Falling forward, he reached for support with his arm. But he never found it, for the angel had unexpectedly kicked his arm sideways. And, for a moment, this was the cruelest act Father Gomez could have imagined. His head met with a large rock, and he fell into the water. He tried to lift his submerged head, but the angel kept it down. He was holding his breath, but could not hold it forever, and from sinful earth-given instinct, his lungs filled with water. His chest was on fire, his head was swimming, and his daemon was furiously trying to help, but it was useless. The agony he endured was unbelievable. Until he felt dazed… and oblivion came.
All these memories; he knew now that he was dead. But also…
He had failed. The church and their trust in him would be completely destroyed. They would pray for him, yes, but he would not receive the honor of a faithful missionary from the church, or from the Authority. His entire life of service to the Constitutional Court of Discipline meant nothing in his failure. For the first time, he was truly afraid of banishment. He felt terror at the idea of eternal fire and torture, his mind raced with the fact that he could do nothing. He would be forced to experience the punishment that the church had taught most assuredly existed, because he had failed in preventing original Sin. As he thought this presently, everything was dimming…
The scene of the night sky and the trees was becoming gray, and the noise of the stream was fading into static. The grass was becoming an ugly grayish-green. The entire panorama of the world around him was blurring. And he started walking, because he had to. It was the way. He walked in no direction, it seemed, and for a while he wondered why. But he would not stop walking. Eventually, he saw other people walking. They appeared as gray as the trees he had just left behind. They all were heading in the same direction, now dozens of travelers, and each no less than five feet apart. Soon dozens more joined them.
Was this the way to hell?
If he was not ascending to heaven, if his spirit was not already deemed worthy, then yes. It must be. But he had to keep walking. On and on, as more people were coming, looking as distraught and afraid as he was, he journeyed. Soon the ground sloped slightly downwards. 'Downwards into the eternal fires', father Gomez thought hopelessly.
The picture of trees and the stream he had known so vividly a moment ago was now completely gone, from his surroundings as well as his mind. Father Gomez and all of his fellow sinners were going into what seemed like a garbage dump. On the ground were rotten pieces of meat and stagnant water puddles, poisonous weeds, and soon not one square meter of ground was bare of filth. The air was filled with smoke he couldn't smell.
Father Gomez saw men, women, and children of all races and ages coming from their deaths and going to the nowhere he was going towards. How could there be this many damned people? Has the church not taught the ways of salvation effectively after all this time? There would be no way of telling them, no way to warn the church of its failures. Mankind was doomed, especially since he failed his mission. How he wish he were severed as a child! He wouldn't have been tempted away from eliminating the girl by the angel! Truly his daemon was his downfall, the sin of earth.
"Oh my god… no, no, no, no… oh my god…" Out of the silent yet tense walking, Father Gomez looked to his right and saw a boy who was around 15 years old, standing and in hysterical tears. He said these words while sobbing, and his eyes were wide open one second, closed the next, then wide again. "This should have been the end… why aren't I asleep… oh my god…" He was gray just like the emptiness around them.
The fact that the boy was standing still in a fog of walking people struck Father as odd, and he detoured from his instinctual path in order to speak with him. As he got closer, he could see the boy was wearing typical teenage clothes, a shirt and pants, and had wild medium-length hair. "Excuse me, boy, but why aren't you walking?" Father asked in a sad voice. It sounded like he was barely above a whisper.
The boy looked up and with a dreamy expression, simply said, "Walking where?"
Father pointed in the direction of the mass movement. "This way, I suppose. It appears everyone is going this way… yes, we all must pay the price now…" He winced at his own realization.
"But… Why?" The boy fell to his knees and put his hands over his face, sobbing even more now. "My life was so horrible… and now I'm gonna suffer more? Why, god, why!" He screamed out. In the quietness, people quickly looked to the boy but said nothing and did not stop. Soon they seemed to forget about him.
"Dear boy, there is no hope for us, we must do the lord's bidding one last time and accept our judgment. The rise of Sin is near, and the lord which has given so much for us will now weep for the earth, and in his sorrow it will be good for him to know that the last damned humans… however many there are… took their punishment without resistance." Father was forced to watch the boy cry more.
Teary-eyed, the boy looked up and around slowly. "Do they all know where they're going?"
"I don't know, but the gates of hell will rise soon enough…and they will all know."
"What if I don't go that way? What will happen to me?"
Father looked shocked at this, and then quickly shook it off. "My boy, you must go this way. That is the only way for us, the damned. Once you get up again, you will walk this way. I expect you to get up soon."
The boy's eyes narrowed defiantly. "Then why did you stop walking that way?"
Father gasped when he realized what he meant. "Oh no… oh no…" Immediately, Father was walking again. How could he have stopped? Such a fool… no wonder he wasn't worthy. He said out loud, to the boy behind him, "Boy, you have delayed me from my punishment! Your sinful thoughts and notions have carried after death, I expect you to truly be a servant of the Evil One! In hell you will have your place far worse than mine!"
And with that, he made his way without any more disturbances.
…
The youth looked amazed as he saw the man walk away to hell, or at least what he said was hell. He was still on his knees.
"All this time… everyone who was damned came here…" He gradually slowed his tears, and eventually he stopped completely. Then he stood up.
His life had been unhappy, he knew, but he could not remember it. All he could recall was him being in a room… and drinking a glass of wine he had poisoned. It took longer than expected for him to die.
He looked up at the gray sky, to see a dim sun shining through the thick pollutant smoke. As dim as a nuclear winter. The ground below him was filthy, too, but it didn't matter. He looked around once more at the traveling masses, made an educated guess as to which direction they were going, and took a step in the opposite direction.
In an instant, he was overwhelmed with happiness as he disappeared into the air as Dust. Nobody had noticed. But the dead patch of weeds beneath his now-gone feet was slowly, very slowly, reviving itself and becoming healthy.
…
Father Gomez was sure to be punished worse now.
He had shown that even in death, he could be tempted. Oh, curse that daemon of his to put such a dark weakness on his spirit! He had to hurry now. If he waited any longer, the torture would be worse, and he must go eventually.
The scene of empty grayness was now replaced by old, destroyed houses, to Father Gomez' great surprise. Also, a road seemed to start. It looked like a… a town? Yes, as he kept walking he saw more buildings that were in terrible ruin, what looked like a library with half of the roof caved in, debris in the road, even a town square with a cracked and eroded statue.
Was he going mad? Could this really be hell? Or was it just a part of the journey?
No matter; he dare not question the lord.
Past more buildings, with people still walking with him, and he suddenly came upon a large body of water. He was at a coast. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
"Excuse me, sir."
Father Gomez jumped and turned around, to see a middle-aged looking man in a ragged suit standing there with a polite look on his face. He was not gray; he was alive somehow.
"Sir, I believe that your boat is waiting over there, if you'll be so kind as to make your way as quickly as possible." He motioned some ways away down the coastline.
Father Gomez was horribly confused now, and could all but do as the man said. He started to walk now where the man had directed, and soon came to a dock. He turned around but the man in the suit was gone.
"If you wish to go, get in the boat now."
Father saw that a rowboat was tied to the dock, just large enough for maybe five people. In the boat was a man, a very, very old man. He still looked strangely muscular and powerful, and he wore a thick beard. The look on his face was tired and stern.
"Do you wish to cross now?"
Father Gomez took a last look at the scene behind him, with scared people and ruined houses and the disgusting ground, and sighed heavily. Sadly, he said, "Yes, I cannot delay any longer." and he stepped in the boat.
The boatman untied the rope binding the boat to the dock, and started rowing away from the land. Father simply sat down, hopeless, and stared off into the fog off the side of the rowboat. His time for salvation had passed.
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That was my first real story for this site.