The Year is 202 b.G.

Looking in the mirror of her cramped bathroom, Léonie forced a smile at her reflection. She regarded her dark, curly hair and tanned-brown face, assessed her outfit chosen for the evening. A dark midnight blue dress, hanging loosely around her curves and hiding them neatly beneath the folds. She wore matching dark blue heels, and nylon stockings, as it was freezing cold outside.

The month was December, the year was 2019, and it was rapidly coming to a close. Today was the last day of the year, and everyone in Brussels—the city that was Léonies home—would thus be celebrating with their friends or family. With loved ones.

Everyone, it seemed, except Léonie, who had no loved ones to celebrate the New Year with. One couple, Ivona and Walter, whom she had met at a writing class some months ago, were the only ones who had bothered to invite her. They were friendly and sociable people, but Léonie had barely had three conversations with them, making her puzzle at their invitation.

They probably take pity on me, Léonie thought.

She shrugged to her reflection. It was most likely better than staying home alone. At first, Léonie had tried to convince herself that she didn’t need to go out to celebrate New Year’s Eve; she didn’t need to prove anything to anyone by celebrating a nonsense holiday with people she barely knew. But fear and doubt had poisoned her resolve, and thus Léonie had ended up saying yes to Ivona and Walter, not really knowing what to expect there. At least it was better than staying home alone, Léonie thought to herself again.

Ivona and Walter turned out to be rich people, judging by the size of their house. Their Christmas decorations were still present, the lights on their front porch twinkling merrily and a greenish hue from lights inside the house just visible from the street where Léonie stood watching. She approached wearily, a sudden bout of anxiety making her doubt whether she still wanted to go to this party. Before she could change her mind, Léonie hurriedly pressed the doorbell in a jolt of confidence and the door almost immediately swung open.

‘Bonjour, Léonie!’

Ivona stood in the doorway the very image of a dame riche whose beauty poets wrote about; she was dressed beautifully in a dark red gown falling all the way to the floor, the deep color bringing out the dark gloss in her immaculately curling-iron-curled brown locks. Golden bracelets covered her arms and a golden pedant was wrapped around her slender neck. Léonie almost felt like a peasant compared to her.

As Ivona grabbed her arm and dragged her inside, she noticed they had not held back on the number of people to invite: every room of the house was packed full, the noise of their chatter drowning out all other sound, and the heat of so many bodies packed together causing a faint layer of sweat to start on Léonies lower back. It was all Ivona could do to get herself and Léonie pushed through the multitude of human beings.

‘Léonie, you came!’ a male voice behind her suddenly exclaimed.

Walter, originally born in Munich, was a tall man, and the exact stereotype of what most people think Germans look like: blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin and perfect teeth. When adding Ivona into the mix, they really were quite the glamorous couple. Léonie almost felt afraid of Walter, and nearly jumped backwards as he stepped forward to wrap her in a tight embrace.

‘We’re so glad you could make it,’ Walter continued, his warmth and kindness so unexpected Léonie only stood there with her arms limp. As he pulled back, she noticed a familiar smell on his breath.

Alcohol, she thought to herself amusedly. The ultimate way to make people more friendly.

‘Ye-e-es, chérie,’ Ivona said, her French descent extremely pronounced. ‘We have great plans for you tonight, just wait and see.’

Safe to say, Léonie met a wide variety of people that night. Unfortunately, due to the excessive number of new names and faces she had trouble remembering which name belonged to which face precisely. No face in particular seemed to stand out from the crowd, and at a certain point Léonie even began to get a nagging feeling that these people all seemed to know each other already. Was she the only newcomer here? Surely not.

It wasn’t until she migrated into the kitchen to get herself a third glass of wine that Léonie met someone who looked to be here for the first time too, as she stood alone at the kitchen counter.

The young woman was probably in her twenties, like Léonie, and was eating cookies straight from a box that had probably been opened by that same woman just a few minutes ago. She smiled at Léonie as she entered the room.

‘Also a newcomer, I take?’ the woman asked, winking at her.

‘Is it that obvious?’ Léonie replied, laughing.

‘I’m Marina,’ the woman said.

‘Léonie.’

‘So,’ Marina said, looking around. ‘How did you come to this group?’

‘Well, I met Ivona and Walter at a writing class by Le Coin Blue, if that’s what you mean,’ Léonie answered.

Marina merely answered: ‘I see, I see,’ and: ‘They are a great couple, you must realize.’

‘I think they go well together, sure,’ Léonie said carefully, deciding to look more closely at Marina. The woman’s attire was nothing too extravagant: a pair of jeans and a light green sweater, with boots underneath. Judging from the way she focused her gaze so heavily on Léonie, but seemed not to really see her, Marina looked rather feverish, or even zealot-like. It sent shivers up and down Léonies spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, so she politely but quickly excused herself and fled from the kitchen, back into the living room where Ivona and Walter were just preparing to give a speech for their guests. Their earlier consumption of different kinds of alcohol were causing them to sway dangerously, so they held on to each other for precious balance.

‘Meine Damen und Herren!’ Walter was shouting happily, apparently unaware he was speaking his native tongue.

‘Chéri, please,’ interrupted Ivona, laughing. ‘Our guests cannot understand you!’

‘Of course, of course,’ Walter cleared his throat to begin again.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for coming here tonight! As you all know, tonight is a very special night. The beginning of a New Year! But unlike the rest of the world, for us, this New Year is more important. We are one year closer to celebrating a very joyous and special occasion.’

Everyone around Léonie cheered happily as she frowned. She looked around to see whether anyone else in the room also had no idea what Walter was talking about, but every single face turned towards him in admiration, a trace of the same feverish look Marina had displayed earlier in their eyes, too.

‘For this celebration,’ Walter continued as he placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder for balance, ‘we wanted to make the evening extra special. So please, if all of you would follow me to the garden; we want to show you a great surprise.’

To Léonies surprise, everyone immediately obeyed Walter’s request, and started shuffling out through the garden doors impatiently. Léonie was pushed around by the sudden flurry of movement and she felt herself get squished against someone, whom she apologized to before she realized that someone was Marina.

‘There you are,’ said Marina, apparently unfazed by their proximity. ‘I was wondering where you’d gone.’

‘Marina,’ breathed Léonie, still pressed up against her despite trying desperately to keep her distance. ‘Could you tell me what in the world is going on? Why is everyone here so weird and crazy?’

The words had slipped out her mouth before she could stop them, and Léonie blushed profusely despite herself. Luckily, no one around them seemed to have heard except Marina, who only chuckled amusedly.

‘I guess you could call them that. I have to get used to it myself, too.’

‘So you know what’s going on?’

‘Of course, I do. They briefed me before I came here,’ answered Marina, a slight frown creasing her brow. ‘You mean to say you weren’t informed on the workings of the group?’

Workings? Group? Léonie thought to herself, but before she could think any more on what she said, both women stumbled outside under the night sky as the crowd spilled onto the terrace and Marina disappeared somewhere further into the crowd. The garden literally spanned until the horizon, once again proving just how rich the couple really was. Walter was standing on a platform that was glittering with more of the same green Christmas lights and which must have been installed there for tonight’s reason, and Léonie wondered how he could have gotten there so fast what with all the people cramming through the garden doors, especially considering his more-than-slightly-tipsy state.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ continued Walter, his voice drawling just a little. Next to the platform stood an enormous bulk that reached about two and a half meters high and was covered by some kind of tarp, which as obviously meant to be the surprise Walter had talked about earlier. Léonie spotted ropes spanned around and below the tarp, probably so Walter could whisk it off in one quick and fluid motion for added dramatic effect.

‘Now for the big reveal. Ivona and I have been planning this for quite some time. My dear guests, please behold this work of art, our dedication! The guiding shrine!’

The tarp was taken away, the construction of ropes doing their job, and underneath Léonie could see something that was indeed probably best described as a shrine.

It consisted of a slab of perfectly sanded down dark grey stone which shone with a faint greenish tinge and was seemingly shaped like an octagram when seen from above, with on each point of the star a candle ready to be lit. In the middle of the octagram, Léonie noticed some strange carvings which she couldn’t rightly identify.  Above the octagram spanned something that could best be described as a miniature archway, as if it protected the eight-pointed star from whatever could come falling down from the heavens.

A smattering of applause erupted from the crowd, but Léonie didn’t join in. Suddenly, she just felt like going home and crawling in her bed and hide under the sheets, away from all the scary and weird people in the world. How did I even get here? she thought to herself, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Silently, she turned around and weaved a way through the crowd, back towards the house, hoping none of her hosts would notice her exit.

A hand fell on her shoulder, making Léonie squeak in sudden fright.

‘So, what do you think?’ asked Walter, his hand tugging her shoulder, making her stumble backwards clumsily.

‘It’s nice,’ Léonie managed feebly, her heart still thumping so wildly it could almost be used as background music for the ominous setting.

‘Do you know what the shrine is for?’ he asked her, and despite the alcohol, the gaze of his blue eyes was suddenly so sharp and direct, Léonie was stunned to silence.

‘It’s actually meant as a sort of navigational aid,’ he answered for her. ‘For the coming of His Holiness.’

‘You mean like the Pope?’

Walter laughed.

‘Good joke! No, in all seriousness,’ he said, his gaze intense again. ‘I mean for the coming of Gazorp, the One True Ruler of this earth.’

For Léonie, it was like one of those moments when you’re not sure if someone is just making a really bad joke or is actually, scarily, extremely and immensely serious, like when you’re talking to someone you just met, and they tell you they consider Trump to be the smartest person in the whole world. Because of the whole bizarreness of the evening, and maybe the three glasses of wine she had on top of that, Léonie couldn’t hold back the first natural response that her body prompted her to do.

She laughed.

It was a short burst of laughter but sounded high pitched and anxious to her ears. She held a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself.

‘So,’ she began carefully, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. ‘You mean to say… You’re lizard people?’

Walter snorted. ‘Call it what you want, but we go by Gazorpians.’

‘Right,’ Léonie answered, nodding along as her mind raced and whirled around the implications of this couple being… Gazorpians.

‘Wait,’ she said, a realization suddenly dawning, ‘Does that mean everyone here is also like you? A… worshipper or whatever?’

‘Meine Liebe,’ said Walter, looking down at her patiently, like he was dealing with a child. ‘This is our congregation! We are here tonight to celebrate the coming of the New Year, a year that brings us so much closer to His Coming. We do not count according to the birth of that blasphemer, Jesus; this coming year is 202 b.G.!’

‘Before… Gazorp,’ Léonie deduced successfully, her body suddenly so tired and her mind weary.

‘Precisely,’ said Walter. ‘And now, liebe Léonie, I see you are ready to be brought into the fold. Ivona and I sensed it in you the moment we first saw you at that class. We knew you would be willing to join us and help prepare the world together.’

‘Excuse me?’ said Léonie, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

‘Come, come,’ said Walter, grabbing her by the arm and leading her forward before she could stop him.

‘Friends!’ he cried as he dragged her onto the makeshift stage. Léonie desperately tried to struggle free, but his grip was like an iron clasp, his fingers digging painfully into her skin.

‘This is Léonie. She is here to be welcomed into the group. We will hold the ritual here, right now, so she can be fully anointed as a priestess of Gazorp.’

‘Wait, right now?’ squeaked Léonie, but her words were drowned out as everyone clapped cheerfully and whooped with excitement.

‘We get to witness an anointment! How exciting!’ she heard someone cry.

‘Bring me the knife!’ Walter shouted to no one in particular. ‘We will do this the old-fashioned way, so to better honor the original followers of Gazorp—’

‘Wait, wait, WAIT!’ Léonie burst out. The crowd fell silent, finally making Walter notice how hard he was gripping her arm. He loosened his grip somewhat, making Léonie sigh with relief.

‘Look,’ she began tentatively. ‘I’m sorry, but I think there’s been some big mistake. No one ever told me about this party being a… Gazorpian meeting. I had no idea! I thought we were just going to celebrate New Year’s Eve, you know, like normal people. I’m sorry, but… I don’t want to be a Gazorpian. So, I think I’m going to leave now.’

She turned towards Walter, who was regarding her thoughtfully, and said: ‘You’ve been a lovely host, really, but it’s about time I left.’

She turned around to go, but realized Walter’s hand was still clutching her arm.

‘Uhm,’ she said, ‘Walter? Could you let me go?’

His blue eyes were sharp as he looked at her. ‘Of course,’ he uttered eventually, and slowly let go of her arm, red marks clearly visible on her dark skin where he had clutched her.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed, and she leapt off the stage.

The next few moments were probably the most awkward Léonie had ever experienced in her life, as she weaved a way through a crowd that was completely silent, and all looking at her with dislike and disgust. Léonie felt like they would begin yelling obscenities and throwing stones at her any moment.

As she finally crawled through the last few people standing on the terrace, someone moved to stand in front of her, blocking the way into the house.

‘Leaving, are we?’ Marina asked, her hands on her hips, the iciness in her voice transparent.

‘This has just been one huge mistake, I’m afraid,’ replied Léonie, silently praying she would get out of her way so she could escape this damned place.

‘Just remember this, then,’ said Marina, as she stepped forwards, far into Léonies comfort zone, their bodies almost touching as Marina’s eyes bored threateningly into hers. ‘Gazorp is coming for this earth. And when he does, a reckoning will follow all those who didn’t do their best to prepare for him. And even though you won’t be alive then anymore, your descendants will feel the consequences of your actions. So you better think about this, Léonie. Think carefully.’

Léonie cleared her throat slowly as she stepped around Marina and through the garden doors.

‘Guess I better not reproduce then,’ she said quietly.

Léonie collapsed onto her bed, home at last. She grabbed her teddy bear, which she had had since her childhood, and hugged it tightly.

‘Rosie, those people tonight were really crazy,’ she told Rosie.

She crawled snugly under her sheets and grabbed a book that was on her nightstand. The title read: The Coming of the One True Ruler.

‘Amateurs, really,’ she muttered as she opened her book and started to read.

Her eyes shone with a greenish hue as they swept over the words on the page.