Unholy Trinity: The Beginning of the End of the World by Dana Vickerson

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.


One: Dark Shapes Inside the Clouds


Lightning flashed, and Christine peered into the gloom. The sky was a deep, menacing gray, with overtones of sickly green. The cloud mass took on an undefined haze, save a few dark undulating masses. Christine thought of the ocean and huge moving creatures just below the surface.

A high pitch noise ripped through her head, and she looked around in panic. In every car, people jumped and pressed hands to ears.

Chaos. People ran through the darkness in all directions. More screams cascaded off the cars, and the distinct sound of crunching metal and breaking glass echoed through the night.


Two: Too Many People for the Party


“No!” Elijah screamed. “Stay back!” He pushed his body against the dumpster and threw out his hands, signaling to the approaching group.

The woman — their obvious leader, straight backed and loud when the rest looked hunched and exhausted — inched forward, her arms out in the universal we won’t hurt you gesture.

Elijah looked to the green gray sky, looking for signs of agitation. No matter her intentions, the woman and her group were a danger.

They moved closer, and Elijah looked back to the dumpster, to those he loved huddled inside. 

The sky roiled, and the pods began to fall.


Three: Suck It Up and Keep Walking


Dane moved slowly through the overgrown brush, wishing for a car, a bike, anything from the world before. His oversized boots thumped on the uneven ground, and he thought how much easier this would be if he could walk on pavement.

The pods had destroyed so much in the early days, and whatever freaky shit had leaked out when the huge things exploded made quick work of buildings, infrastructure, and every last convenience Dane had known.

Suck it up, man. You’re alive. 

He pulled down his bandana and kept walking, the toppled concrete overpass barely visible through the huge vines.


Dana Vickerson

Dana Vickerson is an architect and writer living in Dallas, though she’s most comfortable deep in the woods where she loves to sit and listen to the symphony of nature. When not crafting buildings or stories, Dana can be found analyzing horror movies with her husband or making elaborate paper dolls for her daughters. Her short fiction has appeared in Trembling with Fear and Tales to Terrify, and is forthcoming in Zooscape, Dark Matter Presents: Human Monsters and other anthologies. You can find her on Twitter @dmvickerson.