A Kingdom for Abe

Warnings: Physical violence and gore, brief mentions of animal abuse

Abe looked out his living room window to see his son’s smiling face, who had been dead for six years. His son’s face was a vivid image framed between the shadows in the forest. The sight lifted the dimness from the corners of his dilapidated farmhouse. Pieces clicked into place and a weight lifted off his chest.

Abe stood on his worn-out bones and rushed to the warped doorway, eager to greet his son. But as he pulled back the curtain at the entrance, his son’s face vanished, replaced by a cold breeze that bristled through the gnarled branches.

"Where did you go? Come inside, please! Don’t run away!" The night swallowed his words. The air became stale.

Abe's body felt heavy again as the world died down around him. Turning away from the entry, he hobbled across the cracked floor to the flickering fireplace, where he sat with hunched shoulders. He stared into its bright maw, but the sound of it gnawing on the logs made him look away. It made him want to extinguish it, but it was the only source that kept him warm on those long nights.

Lately, however, a persistent chill had been creeping through his body that no fire could disperse. His body lurched forward, and he doubled over as he hacked into his cupped palms. Shivering, he wiped away the viscous residue on his hands onto his stained robe, curled onto his pillows strewn across the floor, crusted in dust, and his heavy eyelids closed.

—

A strange noise stirred his slumber. The pitch black around Abe shifted as his ears tried to make sense of the clamor. The dying embers that burned crimson were the only thing Abe could see in the darkness. Abe sat up with a rigid spine, and the house held its breath with him. The noise tore away the silence, emanating from outside. Peering through the cracks of the burlap at the doorway, Abe desperately searched for any tangible shapes.

Abe peeled himself off of his warm pillows. The embers crackled behind him.

Abe tiptoed to the door on the ice-cold, creaking floorboards. The darkness pushed against his back.

A gale of heat slowly pushed the screen aside as Abe’s bony limb reached for it. The cloth stayed suspended in the stillness.

The glow of the gloom flooded the house, and Abe looked out at the silhouettes and a wall of black behind them. Although he felt a prickle of alarm, Abe thought about his son and worried for him. With an unsteady hand, Abe clutched his walking stick that leaned beside his doorframe.

He stepped out of his warped hole and into the twilight.

A snap reverberated through the dusk. The world roared around Abe.

Fireflies weaved patterns of gold all around him that lit up the dark, abetted by a symphony from midnight creatures that replaced the drumming in his ears. Abe looked above him to see the luster of lights in the sky become multitudes engulfed in colorful waves that swayed in the deep heavens. He gulped in the warm air that was sweeter than honey and held his hand to his heart as he walked into the scene around him. The wonder all around him caused his cheeks to dimple. His feelings were as foreign to him as this new world. It made him yearn to hold his wife in the luminescence and to hear his son chime with the melody. A bleat interrupted the moment.

In the distance, a blanched creature frisked about. Abe could discern in the dark that its back legs were rabbit-like, its front half had two arms, and it had two curled horns on either side of its head. It made the same noise again, which assured Abe that it was the source of his rude awakening. The need to satiate his curiosity possessed him. Abe uprooted his legs to move closer to it.

The woodland hissed.

Abe watched the forest twist, bend, and levitate in sudden movements as if he were blinking rapidly, but his eyes remained wide open.

A long expanse of viridescent clearing that faded into ebony materialized between the trees where the creature stood. It gave another "baa" toward Abe, and the animal bolted down the path. Abe looked back at his house, peering through the doorway, to see the last ember burn out. His mind raced with the vision of his son, and now this! It must be a ray of hope, he reasoned. Despite his doors falling off their hinges, his wife passing on, and the soil suffocating the crops, he stayed. Even when the other farmers cursed the land, he endured. It was his homestead where his wife hummed her morning hymns, and his son stood upright and walked across the ground to Abe’s arms. This was the sign he had been waiting for.

He inhaled. Holding it in, he followed the creature onto the path. His bare feet sank into the soft green blades, enveloping and caressing them, causing Abe to flinch backward. It’s not too late to go back to my pillows and fireplace, he began to think to himself before his thoughts were interrupted.

A loud grunt came from the animal as it leaped back and forth ahead of him as it waited.

"Hmph." Pushing his hands against his lower back, Abe stood up straighter than he had in years. He shuffled behind his guide, watching its hands flail beneath it as it galloped as they went deeper into the void. The light faded behind them as they moved further from his farmhouse until Abe could only make out the outline of his escort. Then the creature vanished.

"I can’t see you! Where did you go, Little One?" Abe heard a muffled "baa" in reply.

His breath came out in heavy gasps, forming a hazy fog in front of him. Baffled, he reached out and ran his hand over the obscure surface, causing it to ripple. He pressed his fingers into the thin screen, feeling rows of ridges and then running his digits upward to encounter soft fibers at the top. Abe extended his hand even further, tugging at it until there was a sharp crack. Withdrawing his hand, he found himself clutching a fresh corn cob still covered in its husk. A gasp escaped his lips, as thoughts of his wife flooded his mind.

His wife, Cara, had always craved the taste of corn and lamented that she could never satisfy it for months. His arms still remembered how it felt when her body would shudder and crack every night before the ground took her in its stony embrace. Their stomachs would ache for many unfulfilled desires, but Cara refused to succumb to desperation like many others had. Abe tucked the cob into his pocket and shoved himself through.

He was presented with a sight of green and gold spreading across the field as far as his eyes could see. He stood in the middle of a jungle of vines clinging to their stakes, plump fruits tipping them over. Beneath his wiggling toes was a soil thick with moisture that filled the air with an earthy tang. Yet none of this mesmerized him more than the two white discs that hung in the blank, inky ether above him on his left and right.

A hum stirred the quiet farmland, with crepitates filling in the gaps. Between the slits of the cornfield, Abe glimpsed blazing lights and watched cinders scatter in the air. A susurration seized his attention. In the tall garden, he saw his chaperone’s ashen hand beckoning him.

Little One stared at Abe, the whites of its eyes glowing in the veil of soot that surrounded them both.

"What is this place, Little One?" Abe whispered. Little One scurried away from view, deeper into the brush. Abe let out a deep sigh and ran his hand down his face. Determination overcoming his judgment, he carefully parted the stalks and stepped inside the thicket. As Abe walked through, his peripheral vision caught shifting shapes while the humming became louder. Straining his eyes to look ahead, he moved as if he were twenty years younger. The shades squeezed closer and closer to him as Abe reached the finish line and ripped through the exit. In his hasty exit, he tripped and fell face-first into the dewy grass.

Thumps landed beside him.

Abe rolled over and grabbed his staff to defend himself against a black, fuzzy rabbit. It nibbled on the grass, and its wide eyes curiously observed him. More rabbits scattered the grass in front of him, a sight he had not seen in so many years. They evoked his memories of simpler times.

Abe was a livestock farmer who also kept rabbits and sold them as pets, bringing joy to the children, including his son. His son, Ike, loved to brush their fur, and he named each one and sealed the name with a kiss on their twitching noses. Abe could remember walking into the barn as Ike would tend to them and play with them in distant lands only known to him. He told Abe he wanted to live in a village filled with bunnies, which he would never sell. But then the blight came. Ike fell apart in Abe’s arms when he told him with a heavy heart they would have to sell them for meat and pelts during the blight. At least, that was their purpose before the villagers used them for their rituals instead. After the soil turned to dust, the villagers said their "god" demanded the rabbits. And so the rabbits fed wicked infernos instead, like the ones ahead of Abe at that very moment.

Three pyres were set ablaze in front of a farmhouse resembling Abe's, but it still had intact red doors and upright pillars. Abe could feel the creeping shadows invade his mind. Little One cried out to him, prancing and shrieking around the fires with a grating tone that made Abe’s bones feel more brittle. The land shifted.

The clouds of ash turned into Lampyridae that glowed red, accompanied by an eerie, echoing tune. The two moons perturbed Abe.

"Come inside, my dear Abe. You can rest now. Your hard work is well rewarded." The silvery voice of his wife slipped past the door that was now ajar. The house burst with vermillion light. Trembling legs carried Abe away as he turned and fled.

Torrents of rabbits ran out from the fields, searing his exposed skin as he slipped over them. Little One rushed over to him, yipping.

"Stay away from me!" Abe shielded his face from the creature and continued to flee. The grass beneath him pierced his heels, but he gritted his teeth to bear it and focused on his escape. His blood curled when he saw the ivory spheres descending towards him.

Sobbing and screaming shattered the windows of the house behind him, and Abe summoned a newfound strength from fear to reach the cornfield.

Shaded appendages reached out for him from the thick foliage. In a stupor, Abe swung his cane, striking at the grasping limbs as they clawed at his legs, arms, and face. Little One squealed behind him, and its screeching sent the shades scattering. Seizing the opportunity, Abe charged through the remaining distance until he collided with an impenetrable wall.

---

Abe traded his last rabbit to the villagers for flour, much to Cara’s dismay.

"We’ve given enough to them and their evil ‘god’, Abe. What will they take next?" And sure enough, when the land remained infertile, they came for his last ram. They said their "god" wanted it, too. Ike and Cara begged him not to sell their ram. But when faced with the mob, Abe found himself unable to say no. They urged Abe to attend the night sacrifice, but he told them no, like all the other times. However, this time, they glared at him and his family as they left.

That same week, the corn sprouted. The end of the hard times seemed to be at hand. But the clouds still did not squeeze out a drop of moisture to nurture the crops. The farmers whispered that Abe cursed the animals he sold to them. They said his lack of faith in their “god” was the reason it did not answer their sacraments.

A horde tore apart his house, wanting retribution. Abe stood frozen as they flipped over his furniture and spilled his last provisions on the floor. He bowed his head and could not look his wife in the eyes when she looked at him while they ransacked their home. He dug his fingernails into his fists till they bled when he heard his son whimper in the corner.

One of the farmers noticed his son and whispered to another with a depraved face. They told Abe not to withhold his son from them. Abe fought back.

He woke up with broken legs. He could only hear three noises from his front yard: the crowd roaring, his wife shrieking, and his son...

After he buried his wife and his legs healed that same year, he wandered into the forest, his mind gone. It was then that he heard a rasp that spread around the lumber. It soothed his broken soul and promised him something he could not refuse. He let it take over him.

The villagers had their “god”, but Abe was their reckoning.

One by one, Abe dragged his payments to the pyre.

Two by two, swarms of bugs and creatures feasted on Abe’s offerings each night.

Three by three, Abe waited years for a sign.

"Awaken."

---

Abe’s eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up. He was back in front of the farmhouse, but a sense of being observed disturbed him. Looking up, he saw the two spheres perched in front of him in the sky, percolating down at him. A bleat came from Little One, who sat near Abe.

"Why does Abe flee? Does Abe not wish to reap the rewards? Does Abe not want to savor the fruit of his labors?" The gravelly voice resounded across the terrain.

Abe trembled, and his voice became vehement with each passing word. "I did not ask for this. I asked for my son. My wife! My land and for peace! You’ve given me something cursed!"

"Why does Abe doubt This One’s promise? This One does not forsake those who serve it. This One treasures Abe and his suffering. Abe only needs to look closer."

Little One sauntered closer to Abe and stood on its hind legs. Abe looked into its eyes and recognized Ike's face beaming down at him. Unable to hold back the tide, deep sobs erupted from Abe’s chest.

"This is Abe’s home now. Abe delivered what the others could not. This One will look after Abe and Abe’s family until the very end of infinity. This is the promised land."

Little One walked over to him and draped its arms around Abe. It gently lifted him and guided him to sit in an intricately carved rocking chair outside the farmhouse. As he sat, he heard Cara’s hymn near him but could not see her. A rabbit with velvety fur was placed in Abe’s lap, and Little One put its hand on Abe’s shoulder as it bleated. Spectral limbs began to toil away at the crops in the field. In Abe’s yard, the three bonfires burned vibrantly, surrounded by black rabbits. The world bloomed as it had before, with the two moons watching.

Abe mourned.