A fraction of a second. The mind can't process the information given in a fraction of a second, but instinct does. Like the prey being watched by a predator, Jeremy became alert. Instinct. Humanity had driven this spiritual aspect away, refusing to commune with it, in order to build society. Jeremy realized in his subconscious, ever since he'd had contact with Donovan, he was more aware. He felt like a deer in the headlights. Suddenly those images he'd seen revealed their ugly heads. In a fraction of a second, Jeremy engraved the brutality he'd seen in his mind. That sinking feeling that those scenes would save him the trouble of learning something knew was like a tree deeply rooted in his spirit. His mind could not resist.

Rocketing backwards, Jeremy didn't dare to linger near Donovan. A haunting laugh followed him as he retreated. Donovan, more than a foot in the grave, seemed to have an inhuman vitality.

"How the fuck is he alive?" Jeremy asked himself a little louder than he intended.

Blaring sirens came from a distant corner of the city. They were rapidly approaching the mess. Soon the damaged car and the mangled body would be moved. More and more people swarmed to the location. Donovans laughs were gaining more strength. The most unnerving thing was that Donovan appeared to be slowly mending himself in Jeremy's eyes. Jeremy couldn't help but feel that Donovan truly, truly, was a monster.

"Why," he asked with dialated pupils. "Why won't he fucking die?!" 

His shriek drew the crowds attention. Scornful eyes reproached his lack of tact. Jeremy thrushed his way through the gawking few. A squeamish bunch also left with him using his retreat as an excuse. Jeremy didn't pay them much mind. In the back of the crowd, Sarah stood with her mouth agape. Jeremy approached her. When he attempted to grab her arm to go somewhere else, she violently retreated.

"Y-you're horrible," she stammered.

Jeremy, feeling more emotional than normal, growled, "What?"

"You said you wanted him to die. You said he was better off dead! He's alive by a miracle and you crused him. You're a monster."

A frantic woman was no more logical than a frantic man. Jeremy easily grew disgusted. His spirit told him that Sarah was weak. His body reeled in response. Severe psychological trauma can cause someone to do more than retch. Unfortunately for Jeremy, he was a slim few whose mind attempted to protect him by shutting down.

==

Dark mist swirled into a cavern of light. The light met the mist and highlighted it with a silver sheen. The radiance rotated until it flowed into a pulsating seed. The seed thumped with a lub dub much like a heart. The sound was deep and sonorous like a war drum. Along with the sound was a fragrance. It was tempting and delicious, like roast meat or ripe fruit. The combination of cleanliness and grease spread unease. What appeared to be  the sky alternated between every color imaginable. The colors spiralled and swirled, occasionally making geometric and organic shapes. Eventually, Jeremy's face formed. The dark mists came from his nose. The silver lights appeared in his conscious. It nurtured his heart. His heart began to beat more strongly. With a jolt, he woke.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

==

"Doctor," a nasally voice rang in Jeremy's still throbbing head. "The patient has come to."

"Prepare to move patient in the MRI queue. Also schedule a CAT scan for me."

The sound of a pen scribbling seemed ad if it wrote on Jeremy's ear drum. 

"Jeremy," the second voice rang out closer than necessary, "can you understand me?"

Jeremy scrunched his eyebrows as an invasive bright light shined on him. 'What the fuck,' he thought muddled. 'Am I in a hospital?'

"Y-yes," he spoke through a parched throat. "Water."

"Jeremy," the doctors voice sounded again. "You've been unconscious for two days."

Jeremy shook in his bed. He had attempted to get up, but noticed he was restrained. 

"Jeremy," the doctor continued in that same pacifying and annoying voice. "What I'm going to tell you may shock you. You've been implicated in a new terrorist attack."

Jeremy turned his head from side to side. He wanted to deny the claims more fervently, but he felt his strength being sapped from him.

"It's the Darkist," the doctor bluntly spoke. "They orchestrated an attack. The driver, the woman, the boy, Donovan, were all a part of this dreadful act."

Jeremy laughed, "So?"

The doctor leaned in closer. Jeremy's eyes were still out of focus as he attempted to look around. He could feel thd doctors breath on his face.

"So you've been altered by them," the doctor paused. "Irreversibly."

"How," Jeremy howled. "How?!"

The doctor sighed. The rustle of hair being frazzled filled the room. Then, the doctor chuckled.

"That, for the life of me, is what I want you to tell us."

==

Bang!

The fuzz over Jeremy's eyes shattered. He looked around to notice he had blanked in the street. What had felt like days was nothing but a figment of his imagination. He recalled the conversation that the doctor had. He looked around to see what changed. The people still crowded, more spread out, and Donovan looked listlessly at him with those golden eyes. The strange feeling was gone. A serenity that was uncommon and uncomfortable washed over Jeremy. He dodgedly cast his gaze at the ambulance that appeared. He then remembered Sarah. She had stormed off and left him with a slap on his cheek. He felt the sting of her hand first, then the sting of his heart breaking. Tears fell down the poor boys face. He looked at Donovan with mixed emotion. Hate. Anger. Pity.

'Fate,' scoffed Jeremy internally. 'Destiny and fate are for fools.'

As he attempted to rush away from the scene, Donovans body began to swell. The injuries he sustained rapidly healed. The body became gargantuan ans green. Dense patches of skin turned bronze like armor atop elephantitis. The creepy smile still hung on his face.

The Emergency Medical Staff that had approached him all fell slackjawed at the display. 

"D-d-darkist is back," someone in the crowd exclaimed.

Like a teleprompted signal, Donovans body rapidly englarged with the exclamation. His skin burst and fine jets of bloody mists sprayed on the crowd. Those touched by the mist all screamed and fell to the ground covered in boils and blisters. As the noise reached its climax a deafening explosion occurred.

Hundreds of thousands of chunks of human flesh spread across the block. No one could escape being drenched in a fine mist of blood and gore.

At the same time world wide an announcement was made admist the sound of canons firing.

"Divine might begets divine migit. Humility begets humility. The humbled are divine. The divine have been humbled. Pandora, we have opened the box. Enjoy the game."

Boom!

The final culminating boom shattered hundreds of windows. It was like a pulse was released on the cityscape. All electronics failed. All cars stopped working. Planes fell from the sky. As people looked up, to their dismay, the once blue expanse had been stained red. 

A rift appeared like an aurora. It snaked across the sky. If one followed the undulations of the rifts opening and closing, they would notice the twists and turns alternated writing, "Hell hath no wrath," in every language imaginable. Glittering motes of light cascaded down from the broken expanse. The lively display resembled cinematics from rarely well crafted games.