The Monolith

This is a short story I wrote in 2008:

The Monolith

It came in the afternoon one day in the middle of the season of offerings. We once drank fruit wine and shared the harvest with the spirits of ninety-nine generations of our ancestors. That was how long the village had stood there, in the shade of the mountain, shielded from the harsh afternoon sun but exposed to the dawn that flew across endless plains to wake us from our dreams in the foothills. Some say that the village had been there for even longer and that after ninety-nine generations even spirits went somewhere else to rest. They said that the people of that time spoke words that changed the colors of the sky. I do not know. I never saw.

It came in the afternoon and it blotted out the sun. We looked up and saw the great gray thing there in the sky, like a gigantic belly made of stone. Women screamed, children cried and the men sought out the spirits and to the old women to learn what it was. Even the oldest did not know. It continued coming. It looked like it would never end and soon it filled the whole sky. The world was dark and gray. Then it was quiet. The women had stopped screaming and the children were no longer crying. There was nothing we could do but wait and watch. We watched and we waited. Then it began to rain.

It was not the kind of rain that was clear and cool and helped the fruit trees and animals to grow. It was warm and slick and it was golden with other colors drifting, changing colors in it. It was beautiful but I was afraid. It ran down my face and into my mouth. It was sweet and strange. I spit it out, but others drank. They swallowed it and smiled.

“It is a blessing!” They ran around screaming. “Everyone must drink!”

The ghosts of our ancestors disappeared in the strange rain from the stone stomach in the sky. People everywhere drank. They all drank and laughed like madmen. When the ones that had not drunk saw the way the others were acting they wanted to drink too. I did not drink. I felt certain that the thing that brought the rain from the sky was evil.

I saw my father drinking. I tried to stop him but he pushed me away. He looked crazy.

“Stupid boy! Don’t you see it is a blessing? Look how the people smile!”

Everywhere people were smiling. Their smiles were strange. They did not look happy like they did in the times when we drank fruit wine and shared the harvest with the spirits of ninety-nine generations of our ancestors. I saw my mother drinking. It was like a nightmare. The color went away from their eyes.  They still smiled.

“I can see beautiful people that are like gods making love!” some of them would say.

“There are great towers that shimmer like water! And the people pull their wishes out from magical boxes!” others would say.

I ran and hid from the people and the rain. It was difficult for me to find a place where the rain was not falling. I was afraid they would kill me if I did not drink. I fell asleep.


When I awoke I saw that the earth was scorched from the rain. I could not see the trees and animals that had been there the day before. The sky had been robbed of its breeze and the air was hot and it burned to breathe. The great stone stomach still hung in the sky. Everyone was asleep on the ground, where they had been the night before. They each woke up alone and I could see from their eyes they were yet ill. They could not remember the feasts or the spirits of our ancestors. They searched for the beautiful brown vessels that they had set out the night before to catch the rain. The golden rain with the strange changing colors had changed into a black soup with pieces of what looked like dead animals in it. The people began to fight.

“It’s your fault! You forgot to cover the pot!”

“No, it’s your fault! You drank too much last night! Now there is nothing left!”

They continued fighting. They seemed to be different people than the ones I knew the day before. It got worse.

“I hate you! You are not my wife!” one man was yelling. I thought it was my father, but I was not sure.

“You will see!” another woman was screaming, “I will find the places that the rain showed me and I will live with the people who are like gods! Then you will be sorry you held out on me!”

“Lying bitch!” the man said, “You are the one who has more of the rain and you will not share! It is your fault!”

I looked at their faces and eyes. They were the strange, twisted faces of people that had forgotten the earth. They had forgotten our ancestors and the fruit wine and the harvest. They had forgotten the sun. They only wanted the rain, and as they fought and begged the great thing in the sky became larger and darker. The whole world got darker.

“I will give my daughter to any man who can give me one cup of the great rain!” one man was yelling.

The huge stone stomach that was in the sky moved somewhere on its surface. It sent a great arm down to the little girl who was crying, held aloft by her insane father. The pillar of stone that came down from the thing opened up. It had a mouth filled with rows and rows of jagged, filthy teeth that never seemed to end. It ate the little girl.

Then, for just a few minutes, it began to rain the strange rain again.

“The children! Give it the children!” Everyone started screaming.

I did not wait after that. I ran. My parents were gone. The dawns that flew across endless plains to bring us morning were gone. The afternoons in the shade of the mountain were gone. Nine-nine generations of ancestors were gone. The village was gone.

Soon all the children would be destroyed. Then what would the people do? I did not know. I only ran.

Now I am alone in the desert. I am looking for other people who have not drunk of the strange rain that makes people forget everything except their thirst for the rain that they drink and thirst for. I do not know if there are any such people left. I have seen some people far off but I am afraid to go near them. I hide from them. I am starving. Perhaps I will die. If I do die, I hope to go to a place where people speak words that change the colors of the sky. Perhaps they will drive away the great stone stomach that hangs there with its hunger; but I am not sure that it will be that way. I will have to see.