Project Judgement Day
The Antichrist had not been a particularly special baby who was growing into a not so particularly special child. We had been charged with monitoring our Prince of Darkness and report back on anything we deemed worthy of note. Here is our following report on Project Judgement Day.
At the start of his life, the Antichrist had cried just like any other baby dragged onto Earth by the cruel, cold hands of the midwife. There the Antichrist screamed and screamed as the nurse and midwife poked, prodded and assaulted his senses until each of them nodded to the other and deemed our little Antichrist worthy of being a “healthy baby boy” before slapping him right into the arms of the baby’s appointed Mother.
In all the business of the delivery no one seemed to notice or care that the room’s TV had moved several inches to the left and was half floating off the wall bracket, half floating in the air defying gravity. Neither the nurse, the midwife, or the appointed parents had any inkling of the power that this brand-new life held within it. After a short twelve-hour stay at the hospital, Mother, Father and Antichrist all left together in the family’s automobile and drove down the street towards their completely uninteresting, not special house.
Sleepless days and sleepless nights followed just like any other household with a new-born. No one appeared to notice or acknowledge when the Antichrist occasionally began to levitate a few inches off the floor, or throw the ghastly family cat a few feet across the room. The cat had always been peculiar, and well, sleeplessness was known to cause hallucinations in humans and neither parent would admit to the other that they were seeing their “lovely baby boy” floating off the playmat during tummy time. It just simply could not be true. Of course, this tendency towards denial and emotional repression was the reason we’d scoured the middle classes for this pair, who were to be entrusted with our scion. They were just so British.
A short human time later, crawling turned to walking at the completely normal and average age of ten months. The Antichrist was familiarising themselves with only one language, English, which is supposedly perfectly acceptable for most babies and so would have to be acceptable for the Antichrist. Apparently, the Deep Speech of the Pit was far too sibilant, and the child hadn’t yet mastered their forked tongue well enough not to lisp. Regardless, it is not for us to judge the parenting of two humans who know no better.
The Antichrist’s first word had disappointingly been dadda. A slew of other predictable words like mamma and cat followed as the months went on until eventually, he had become a walking and talking Antichrist who was able to verbalise his tantrums. Though still no one questioned why the taps came on during these tantrums or how all the bookshelves were moving from their original place. It was simply that the house was built on a slant regardless of what the spirit level said. Incidentally, we have found since that the spirit level does not actually measure levels of spirit activity in an area. We were surprised too.
The nursery the Antichrist attended also never questioned how the sandpits would miraculously turn over whenever the little Antichrist was around, and no one seemed to make the connection that it was always at naptime. It seemed no matter how much happened around them these primitive beings would just ignore it. The Antichrist, it seemed, was destined never to wreak the havoc that was intended for him. Or so we had assumed until a recent day of school caught our attention and prompted this report.
The day had started just like any other. The appointed Mother and Father got up and went down the stairs. Father made breakfast for them all as Mother quickly quaffed some coffee. Then as breakfast was still being prepared but coffee was finished, Mother walked upstairs with the cat trailing behind her. When they got to the Antichrist’s room, Mother opened the door and went inside and as usual, the cat remained outside not daring to step a single paw past the threshold. Mother woke the Antichrist with a sing-song good morning and the Antichrist turned over with a groan. This was soon placated with the promise of pancakes in the shape of dinosaurs. The Antichrist enjoyed dinosaurs and his favourite was, as the humans called them, a “T-Rex”. This has made us very proud in recent months as the so-called T-Rex was one of Earth’s original harbingers of destruction. It showed great promise that the boy appeared to empathise with them.
The Antichrist got up and helped their Mother by attempting to dress for school. Today the only adjustment that needed to be made was turning the jumper around which the Antichrist had put on backwards, however, this was an improvement as it was usually put on inside out.
Downstairs the family all ate breakfast together. After it was done Father kissed Mother goodbye on the cheek. He left the house with the Antichrist in one hand, and a briefcase and school bag thrust in the other. Father struggled to hoist the Antichrist up into the automobile seat while still holding onto the bags, which needlessly increased the difficulty of the task. It was only as the car pulled out of the drive that Father even considered popping the bags in the back seat.
The first lesson of the day was mathematics, which had changed a lot since the days of Hypatia and Ancient Egypt. The children simply added one and one and learned their two times table with no regard to where the first had gone. They continued all the way to twenty before stopping and repeating it all over again several times until the children were restless, and the teacher bored.
Then it was breaktime and much to their delight the children were allowed to stay indoors that day due to the bad weather. It is well documented that humans easily fall sick and die from bad weather... and sometimes even good weather. Normally the children were forced outside where our Lord and Master would ruin games and scare the girls in his class much to our delight. On this day, to avoid a classroom revolt, the children were given colouring implements, commonly known as crayons, and paper. Then they were left to entertain themselves as the teacher sat at their desk staring at a small mobile device from another long-term project named “Forbidden Fruit.”
One of the children, a ghastly girl named Harriet, sauntered over to the Antichrist. She stood there for a moment eyeing the crayons on the table. The filthy girl reached out and grabbed one of them. When she tried to pull it back, she found her hand stopped mid-air unable to be moved.
“No snatching,” the Antichrist said to Harriet, whose eyes had now gone wide and would not move from her frozen hand. He reached up, grabbed the crayon and tried to pull it back. It still did not move. “Mum said snatching is bad, you need to ask for things. Give it back!” The Antichrist was becoming red and the heat of their anger was pouring off them in a black, sulphurous bloom. The crayon-snatcher looked at the Antichrist with tears forming in her eyes.
“I can’t give it back,” she replied. The Antichrist took this can’t for a won’t, as he had been taught at home, and pulled even harder. When it did not budge for a second time, Harriet’s feet began to leave the floor, her crayon stealing hand remaining in place until she was upside down in the air.
“You all need to share the crayons,” the teacher said in a monotone voice, not even taking a moment to look up at all the children gathered around. The Antichrist was now visibly shaking.
“Give it back!” The Antichrist screamed. Harriet only cried and cried.
“Put me down. Plea-” It was at that point that Harriet jolted sideways, thrown across the classroom and with a tremendous thump hit the wall. The children fell silent. The teacher looked up from her phone. The Antichrist stood trembling.
It was on that day, we are happy to report, that the Antichrist was put onto their path to destroying the world.
Year 2 (2019) | Creative Writing Class | 1469 words
Prompt: Write a story where the protagonist is between the age of 0 - 10.
Definitely thinking about the time I read the first chapter of Good Omen's when I wrote this. Though I can't and couldn't remember any of it, I just remember the vibe was similar. I hadn't seen the show yet, but I watched it after I finished writing this.
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