The World’s Gone Beautiful

Written by: Chue Eung (25-O1)

Designed by: Lynette (25-U1)

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Dead and the dying. That’s all it remembers. Always the same few scenes replaying over and over, like an endless slideshow burnt into its irises, or more so its void black pupils. Each death was swift, gruesome, deliberate. They all committed the same sin as the one before: 

They looked it in the eyes. 

Sometimes it curls harder into a fetal position, bony claws digging into its skeletal face. Sometimes it sneaks a look at its surroundings, at the same four drab walls that kept it safe for the past, however long it's been, since its last taking of an individual’s life. Sometimes it hears a rustle in the magical talking box above, uttering unfathomable instructions that, even if it’ll never understand, compels it to listen. A shuffling of unfamiliar footsteps would then echo through the little room and like a puppet stringed up by invisible masters, it reluctantly lowers its claws and shutters open its irises. 

It looks them in the eyes. 

“Please…I know, I know you don’t mean to… So please.. let..me hel–” A strange little shrieking emanates from the figure. But a twist, snap, and splat later, the voice disappears.

It glimpses at its white claws that were now painted ardent red, then turns towards the mangled corpse in front of it. No, NO, NO, it thinks, exhaling heavily, scrambling back towards its little corner of the room, ungodly screams erupting from its despairing face. 

That wasn’t me, it thinks, mauling its face. Just why, WHY, WHY must it always mutilate those who look it in its eyes? It let out another shriek, smashing its fists into the sides of its elongated head, and from its eyes droplets of tar flowed. It remembers how it had treated humans like nobility, with love, compassion, servitude but its all gone now. Gone are the days it laughed amongst them, drank to the last drop with them, loved with all its heart for them. Gone were the days it flew high, up so high it overshadowed the sun and stars, becoming the light-bringer itself. 

Yet light brought by an impudent being went unnoticed no longer. 

Its wails and anguish were now answered by none, ignored by men in white coats conversing their analysis of ‘it’ amongst peers, men who deem themselves researchers, christened as heroes behind the room’s concrete walls.

It doesn't know, and probably never will learn, that it is an anomaly: a monster born of God’s fury, shaped into a being so hideous, the sight of its face was enough to drive it into a deranged state and dispatch the unfortunate soul who dared to look. It once had a story, a noble story that gave it a name, a home, even a kingdom that it had ruled benevolently. Yet exactly like the fall of Lucifer, it had committed a cardinal sin in times past and now, it pays the penultimate price. It represents atonement for a crime that can never be atoned for; desperation for a savior that will never arrive; torment till the end of all time. 

It was the husk of a being who was led astray. 

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“Eh, I think that’s enough suffering for a being, isn’t it?” I sighed and stretched out my aching joints. It's been months(a human millenium?) since “It” has been useful for anything other than culling humans, and I’ve been hunched over the pedestal watching “It” . Sure its story was tragic, what with the classic fallen hero trope mixed with a bit of frankenstein monstrosity to spice it up. But now it's just pathetic, stuck in some containment cell slaying whomever the researchers throw at it.

“Let’s give it at least one nice moment before we reset it all,” I said to nobody in particular. Not like there's anybody else prancing around on the clouds listening to my rambles, other than myself, I guess. Whisking out a bell from underneath my white garments, I rang it, declaring my decree. 

“The world’s gone beautiful.” 

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17 April 2025 

Containment Chamber 96

Object Class: Irredeemable 

Designated Title: It 

It was fed with Death Row Criminal CO-169 at 1650 as per standard operating procedure for the disposal of death row inmates. 

No anomalous activity detected after feeding.

End of report. 

Logged by L7 Research Daniel Craigslist  

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Its wails soon stifled, replaced by an occasional gurgle and a rocking of the body. It stops, peeking out cautiously from behind its bloodied claws, looking, seeing the unmoving body that laid facefirst. It understands what it's done;  what happened today will always happen, again and again, day after day till the last brick turns to dust; till the last of its revolting body fails him; till its dispatched enough humans to be set free. 

It stares at its claws, then at its skinny legs, and finally at its skeletal torso, devoid of all that makes a human, human. How am I even alive, it thinks, why am I alive, it thinks too.  

Help me, it despairs. Help ME, it prays. HELP ME, it shrieks.  

“The world’s gone beautiful.”

The walls collapse, sentinels that once guarded it from the world keel and crumble. Scarlet red blaring alarms pronounce the breach of security in all containment chambers. Creatures and monstrosities of all shapes, sizes and kinds spill forth into an unsullied land. Yet no humans emerged, no researchers, no rapid tasks forces meant to contain or neutralise the monsters were seen. Humans, once the nexus of civilization, subjugators of the unknown embraced them all, each one with an open arm hugging the supernatural creatures tightly. And across all visible lands flowers emerged, azure, ruby, burgundy, emerald, magenta, all colors imaginable and unimaginable peppered in fields of evergreen meadows. It was a world gone beautiful. 

It rose up, and amongst the wreckage of the cell that once caged it, he made out the distinct silhouette of humans. It covered its eyes swiftly with its claws, backing away, hoping to meet some form of a wall where it could finally, finally curl up and hide. It won’t let another human die. Not this time. 

Then a warmth it once dreamed of scalded its frozen torso. The warmth travelled up its gutless torso, up its malnourished neck and then to its bony claws. The warmth disarmed him, lowered its claws and it looked up. It saw them. It saw a grinning human face. 

It looked them in the eyes. 

The world’s gone beautiful, it thinks.