Chapter 46: A Time of Monsters

“Fear of gods or law of man there was none to restrain them.”

— Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, Book II, §53.4. Composed in the late 5th century BCE. Translated by Richard Crawley. First published in English by Longmans, Green, & Co., London, 1874. Public domain.

From New Britain to Norwich to Westerly to Danbury to the borders of Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New York ... accountings that were seen as nothing more than stories came out. Over five thousand five hundred forty three square miles, the tales spread faster than wildfire.

Newspaper headlines would read: “Monster attack on New England Countryside!” Police would dismiss monster bites to be that of animal attacks from wolves or bears. Mothers and fathers alike would say these were the ravings of drunks and loons rather than credible sources because, after all, who had ever heard of a monster being real?

It was not logical, it was nonsensical, and there was no data points for others to point to. This was the problem with landed thinking limited to what people knew or what they experienced. In this way, Theophilus Ashcombe was right about humanity.

They could not conceive of a world greater than their own because their reality was the only reality. Farmers waking up before dawn, the recent invention of the stove, papers traveling via boat. These were immutable facts that people saw, understood, and knew in their bones as part of reality. They could not, in this generation, conceive of metal tubes flying overhead, like a bird, carrying people. They could not conceive of rapidly firing rifles that could pierce the thickest metal. They could not know of dams producing electricity on such a large scale that it would light up their largest cities for them.

Minds were lacking with that of imagination. What they witnessed, they understood and believed in. Anything outside of that norm, unless accepted through some other means, was either impossible, supernatural, or childish drivel.

This was just another foolish fault of humanity.

And so, when the monsters came, when the vampires attacked, when the Eldritch descended from on high, and when fire and death came down upon them, humanity turned a blind eye because such a result could not be happening.

The only portion of these disasters they understood was that of conflagration and destruction, so they screamed and wailed, for the immediate expiring nature of demise came to New England.

What could they do?

Nothing. They could do nothing but scream and hem and haw...

Nevertheless, the dooming nature of fatality came all the same.

For that of the Revelator, such a conclusion was simple. For one like Kaufman, this was just science ... nature weeding out the weak. For Ashcombe, this was humanity’s chance to become something better or else die. For the Chronovore, this was just one of many conclusions that felt inevitable. For the Horror, this bloodbath was beauty itself.