Work Text:
Just Step Back! Just Step Back!
The journey here has been long, arduous, and littered with corpses. Now, it ends. There is only one thing left to do.
Magdalene stands far behind her cats, protected by claws and powers far stronger than her. Alone, she is just human. And before her, is her God.
Her eyes fixate on His sight, ethereal power thickly emanating from The Creator’s presence. Faceless, ageless, and ever holy. It is not what she imagined He would look like, but it’s also exactly what she expected.
She’s been speaking to Him her entire life.
Down On Your Knees! Down On Your Knees!
The cats march forward, fighting their purified counterparts. God is showing her how powerful and perfect His will is. Just standing before Him feels like a test of her own will.
Her breath is strained. She blinks harshly, hands too frozen to rub her eyes. It’s getting harder to stand, like the weight of a thousand little exhaustions now smother her.
She knows He is looking back at her.
Hands Start To Shake! Legs Start To Quake!
Magdalene remembers when she was a teenager, late into a dark cold night. Her and her friends stole rock and roll CD’s from an odd vendor, music she was strictly prohibited from listening to. They jumped a fence and ran deep into the night, far from any civilization. She happily ran with them, adrenaline thrumming against her ears. The destination didn’t matter, she didn’t even own a CD player. But the journey towards her independence felt more important.
In the thick dark, she quickly lost herself. The laughs and breaths of her friends faded as she realized they turned a different direction. Helplessly alone, she stood frozen in the endless night, trying to orient herself.
She’d never been so far from home before. A part of her worried about getting home so late, her parents would notice. Another part of her worried about the wild coyotes that would often roam the countryside. Deep in her pounding heart, she feared one thing the most. The worry that she’d never be found. The dark would never lift. Her fight for freedom, met with an eternal haze of being lost.
But in that moment, she looked up, and saw God looking down upon her. He pointed in the distance. She found her way home.
Look In Your Soul! Look In Your Soul!
Magdalene blinks and The Creator remains unflinching. The cats fight each other but their focus is on each other. The eternal distance has been shattered, God now towers over His creation.
Magdalene flinches as she hears Him speak.
“This warning is for you. If you do not listen, and if you do not resolve to honor Gods name… He will send a curse down on you, and curse all your blessings. In fact He has already cursed you, and all your descendants, and He will smear your faces with the dung of your sacrificial lamb.”
Countless nights. Thousands of prayers. Blessings for friends, forgiveness for family, comfort in trying times. Every Sunday. And once before meals.
Just to hear Him speak to her.
Madgelene is shaking. She hyperventilates as nausea aches in her gut. A whirlwind of emotions crashes through her.
“My Child… Step down. Repent for your sins. He knows you are a true follower of His word.”
Madgelene’s legs quiver.
She feels overwhelming terror.
Then, she falls to her knees.
The door to the house on the hill opens with a stiff shove. It slams against the wall, hitting the same indent as always. As the home is revealed, a blur of movement occurs, cats of various shapes, colors, and heights rushing to hide. The house is well lit with sunlight leaking in from various windows. The smell of cat piss and feces mixes to a disgusting entrance to the home.
Magdalene walks inside. Her footsteps are heavy, spurring painful squeaks to the floorboard. As she walks towards the kitchen, she sees Him sitting at the dinner table.
“Cof… fee?” Magdalene offers, standing nervously near the dinner table.
“Thank you, but He is not tempted by mortal desires.” The Creator remains motionless, content in His makeshift throne at the table.
“Okay…” She nods, walking into the kitchen anyways.
She turns on her coffee machine, loud whirring covering the piercing silence of the home. The kitchen is sparsely used, the only used tools being the coffee machine, the knives, and the sink. Magdalene keeps her gaze on the machine, absentmindedly breathing from her mouth. There is already a mug waiting to catch the hot coffee.
“Ah… hello, child.”
Magdalene turns, looking towards The Creator. As He remains seated, a thin tabby has jumped onto the table. It sniffs around, focused on The Creator. As the cat remains curious, He speaks.
“I see you have many followers.” His voice proudly booms through the room, as if it comes from the heavens itself.
“Mmmm. Cats, nice.” Magdalene stiffly pushes out her words.
“Yes. He agrees. Such a wonderful breed.” The Creator gently reaches out and pets the cat; it moves into His touch. “He modeled them after His likeness. Life was not made entirely by Him, but where He could touch, His influence spread.”
She blinks and remembers visions of demons, aliens, and unfathomably horrors that all fell to her cats; the only one that has survived is Him.
“He wanted His Flock to have an image of Him, forever amongst them. In their worry, just at a glance, His love could be seen. They would know His love is eternal through all life. In these beautiful creations, He would show His love for you.”
Magdalene hums. She points at the cat, trying to speak but instead coughing harshly. Composed, she continues.
“Hgh… but you… you are not cat.”
“His image has never been singular. Even now, He does not resemble what His Flock has depicted for eons.” More cats begin to approach The Creator, jumping up to gaze and sniff. “His influence has weakened over the eons. Now, His Children resemble little of Him. In their hearts, cats will always be endowed with His love. Just as His Flock is. His wonderful creations, now so warped by time, still, loved by their creator.” He turns to look at Magdalene. “You are still loved by Him. Even now, in all your flaws. He has never stopped loving you.”
She looks to the ground, swallowing harshly a strange feeling in her throat. Turning around, she grabs her cup of coffee. The touch is burning to the touch, she hisses and retracts her hand. A moment passes, she chastizes herself, and proceeds to grab the mug by the handle. Drink in hand, she returns to the dinner table, sitting down across from The Creator.
The chair is uncomfortable. It has always felt too small for Magdalene’s large frame. The entire house has always felt small, especially now smothered with cats.
There is a prevalent aura of strength emanating from The Creator. Purrs surround him, nearly every cat in the household emerging from their places to greet Him. He does not face any of them, His unassuming gaze is solely focused on Magdalene.
“Mhmgm… my… lord–”
“Ah, is that so?”
The Creator cuts her off, His voice sweet as honey. She looks at Him, confused. After a moment, He seems to hum, His loving voice reverberating through Magdalene's soul.
“Children of God speak to Him. He hears tales from those returned to His hand. But so many voices… Tell Him the truth. Whisper gently, Child.”
She looks around, confused.
“Who… is here?”
“Your Flock speaks of you, Magdalene.” The Creator’s words bring tightness to her chest. “Such choice words they have. He will listen closely. The Children of God are more devout than humankind.”
She looks around. The growing horde of cats amass around Him. Some of them are meowing, others don’t seem to be speaking at all, yet she knows. Just from looking, she knows they’re speaking against her. The horrible, vile words, rotten and ill and nasty, against the woman who sacrificed so much to raise and nurture them. She gave so much of herself and her body just to care for them. And they hate her. Rotten, cruel children. She gives so much and this is what is given in return.
“Hhhngg… stop.” Magdalene stands up from her seat and wobbly stomps towards the cats. “Stop! Bad kitty! No! NO! NO!”
She stomps and the cats remain bold, unshaking in spite of her warning.
“Magdalene O. Moriah.” She jolts and looks at her Creator. “You will not gain what you seek. Cease this intrusion.”
She stands nervously in place. Her hands are uneasy at her side. Her body sways. Finally, she steps back. Returning to her seat, she is silent.
“Speak, Magdalene. You have studied the Word of Man. They attempt to decipher His word through their troubled understanding. Yet, some words ring true. Tell Him, what was spoken of Isaih 14:22?”
She licks her lips, breathing heavy. Eyes waver, searching the room for an answer. Words fall from her mouth but they are murmurs.
“Madgalene.”
“I… I don’t know.” She confesses.
“Listen to His words. I will rise up against them, declares the Lord Almighty. I will wipe out Babylon’s name and survivors, her offspring and descendants, declares the Lord.” He announces. “Do you understand His word?”
She nods.
“Then you understand what you have wrought upon these lands.”
She shakily nods.
Magdalene looks at her front door, noticing it is swung open. There are cats coming through the door. Lucy, Magnus, Fenrir, Maisie, Trampy, cats she has killed so many times in her travels yet always return to challenge her. They enter, peacefully, marching towards The Creator. Looking further, there is movement. Vaguely, she sees a growing horde of furry paws marching onto the hill.
“Magdalene, you have made this home into a bed of incestious infighting, wrought with death and disease.” The Lord speaks to her as she watches the scene outside. “You have chosen this for them, played with their health, their bodies, and their hearts. You subject these lost cats to travel across deserts, through the valley of death, and past time itself. An abnormal conjoining of breeding and fighting to force these Children of God into places where you do not belong.” The Creator stills His judgment, perhaps a kindness, or perhaps, to hold His anger. “… even now, they do not speak ill of you. Perhaps this is the cruelty of Man. Even you, Child of God, bathed in His love, fell into degeneracy. Corrupting the good in His Children, turning their holy image into violence. And that, even at its worst, holds no quarter to the tragedy that pervades these lands.”
Magdalene tries to hide her expression, but nothing can be hidden from The Creator. Her disdain is powerful. Butch, Tink, Tracy, Baby Jack, Organ Grinder… Dr. Beanies. The horrors she has heard them commit is only bearable in word. She has grown numb, hoping to ignore what truly happens to those cats. However, there is no ignorance in the face of The Lord. She feels the wound reopening. She is no different from them.
“Boon County… yes?” Magdalene nods and The Creator continues. “This place… He sees Man, masquerading the symbol of God, but indulging in their vices. Embracing confusion, rejoicing in chaos, blissful to be so separated from Him that His own children would be nothing more than playthings to their sinful whims. The Lord hath no mercy for the wicked. The Lord hath seen far too much cruelty to be merciful.”
Magdalene takes a slow sip of her coffee. It is hot, almost scalding, aching to her lips and agonizing down her throat. Despite this, she takes another sip. It isn’t enough to make her feel deserving of His love. It wasn’t enough that she prayed, nor that she stayed with her miserable excuse of a husband, nor the pills, nor the noose. The pain has never been enough, even as a child.
She drinks the coffee and it tastes like regret.
All those years, and she met her Lord not through love, but through hate.
“You, Magdalene, have taken upon His image. Look at this one.” A cat jumps onto the table, approaching her, its body riddled with incestous mutations. “Upon His image, this cat is unrecognizable. The eyes see the world as He does. Yet… merely gaze upon its form, tell me, Magdalene! Is this what you believe in?” His voice grows louder as he extends an open palm to the cat. “Does the mutilation and manipulation of God’s Children justify your conquest for blood? Is it Wrath? Greed? Pride? No, perhaps He is mistaken. To assume there is a reason for this injustice is foolish. The answer will give Him no peace.”
A memory hits her. Then, Magdalene begins to panic. She stands suddenly from her seat, looking out the front door. Her eyes intensely wait, horrified, wondering. She begins walking towards the door.
“Magdalene.” She stops in her place, nearly frozen, at His word. “You are carried by an unknown purpose. Explain it.”
“... door. Must, close.” She doesn’t look at Him. “It’s getting cold.”
“Well. Your word is your bond, Magdalene. Go forth.”
She hurries to the door. But she realizes a problem: the cats. A constant flow of cats spills through the front door, all wildly different from each other; from cats in caves to sewers and junk. They keep flooding in, spilling from the windows, amassing outside. She tries to avoid stepping on any of them but she can’t, their constant yelps and hissing make her anxious. Even in her best attempts to get through faster, the furry waters slow her down. Her approach causes chaos to spread among the cats, nervous hissing and dashing against the walls surrounding her like a tornado. Magdalene’s ears are flooded by rumbling, hundreds of paws growing louder as she gets nearer to the door. It is suffocating. The closer she gets to the door, the harder it is to walk without hurting a cat or tripping. If she falls, they will trample her. She won’t be able to get back up.
Magdalene can feel worry grow thick in her throat. In the distance, she can see cats starting to flee. Something is scaring them away.
Right before she can touch the door, the cats all disperse, and someone new comes inside.
“YOU IDIOT!” Dr. Beanies pushes his way into the house, shoving Magdalene backwards; the cats make a circle around them, terrified. “You were there! Right. There! All you had to do was bring him down to his primordial form! And you BLEW IT!”
Dr. Beanies looks terrible, eyes frenzied and voice shrill. With every movement he makes towards Magdalene, she takes a step back, forcing back the horde of cats. He continues, nearly breathless.
“What was I thinking?! You’re worthless. You could be replaced by any other corpse on Earth and it would probably do a better job.” He points at her and scowls. “Don’t you remember what that monster took from you, Magdalene? HE TOOK ISSAC! HIM! And you just GAVE UP! Can you even begin to imagine how angry I am right now?!”
She cowered before the mad doctor, unable to speak. This feels familiar. His abuse, verbal berating at every conversation, constantly on the edge of violence. Despite everything, she can’t fight back, like there is something stuck inside her that keeps her from arguing. This is familiar and she feels disgusted to her core.
Magdalene raises her hands, trying to put more distance between them. Dr. Beanies continues to push forward, furious. As they continue deeper into the home, the horde of various cats recede from their path.
“What is it? You felt bad? You and your stupid, primitive ape brain connection to your flimsy, childish notion of religion!? Look at you! I did that! Not God! ME! I AM YOUR GOD!” Magdalene can’t breathe. “NOW IF YOU GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND MARCH YOUR ASS BACK TO THE INFINITE—!”
“It’s you.” Magdalene whips her head backwards, seeing The Creator sitting there, looking at the two of them. “All those cries and prayers, whispered by their frightened little mouths…”
Dr. Beanies shoves Magdalene out of the way. She stumbles, hitting the nearby wall. Frozen, she watches, eyes transfixed on Dr. Beanies.
He stands in place, eerily still, finally speaking with a putrid voice.
“It’s you.” Beanies smiles, slowly reaching into his coat. “Her name was Stacy. You took her from me.”
“The Lord sees you, plagued by wrath and ego.” The Creator looks unphased, but Magdalene can see it; His grip on the chair has grown tighter. “He is merciful. Even in your most cruel, wicked of torment, He sees repentance. The Lord remembers your prayer, Doctor. She is more happy in Heaven than she ever was—”
The Creator is interrupted as Beanies suddenly pulls out something from his jacket. Three loud gunshots ring out and Magdalene flinches, looking away from the scene. When it is silent again, she looks wearily at Dr. Beanies.
In his hand, The Loner, a pistol. There is a strange expression on his face. Looking left, The Creator remains unchanged.
“You… but…” Dr. Beanies looks horrified as he fires another bullet at His head, the bullet vanishing as soon as it touches Him.
“Magdalene.” The Lord’s voice is heavy, laces of anger mixed with His words. “Recite Exodus 9:15.”
She stumbles over her words, trying to remember but failing. She’s falling out of her faith. She’s scared of it.
“The nuke!” Dr. Beanies turns to her and speaks frantically. “Where is it?!”
“I… I don’t…”
“For by now, I should have stretched out my hand and struck you and your people with such pestilence that you would have vanished from the Earth.”
“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Dr Beanies shouts as he aims again at The Creator.
Before Dr. Beanies can shoot again, The Creator raises his hands slightly. Flexed into a fist, He slams His hands back down onto the chair. In a holy shockwave, Dr. Beanies is struck backwards, flung all the way into the wall. His head hits the wall with a heavy thud, before collapsing onto the ground, motionless. His gun is flung out the front door, lost into the sea of cats.
Magdalene quickly recovers, looking at Dr. Beanies. She waits for him to begin ranting and raving. But he doesn’t.
“Magdalene.” The Creator speaks but she doesn’t look at Him. “Sit back down.”
Dr. Beanies still isn’t moving. Slowly, the cats begin to walk towards his body. They begin to overlap on each other, smothering the body. In a seemingly frenzied state, they climb on each other, forcing themselves tighter and larger. Like they’re building a hill of cats.
“Sit.” Uneasy, she walks towards her seat at the table, still watching the body. “The Wicked are frightful before The Lord. Man was not made to challenge Him. Now, they receive their judgment.”
Magdalene can’t turn away. She watches the cat horde descending upon Dr. Beanies. She can hear noises, crunching, squishing, sounds she cannot bear to listen to. She has lost sight of him, but blood trickles out from under the mass of cats, sinking into the floorboard, dripping into the Earth. There is so much blood. The cats are silent. Magdalene feels true terror at the silence.
“Is this the kindness you give to your flock? Given away and tortured by Men, sinful as this?” The Creator gestures to what remains of the Doctor. “Do you see this as a kindness? Tell me, was Isaac treated the same?
Her breath hitches and she looks sharply at The Creator.
“You… don’t know. Anything. About him.” She forces out the words from her tight throat.
“Magdalene, He knows Issac more than you could ever know. The child feared you. More than he feared the wrath of The Lord.” She feels sick as He speaks so calmly. “He was so innocent. The Lord almost believed him to be deserving of His love. But you know better, of course. You are the God of this home, this vile bed of blood, stinking with hate. It was you who decided Issac’s fate.”
“No… No!” She leans forward in her seat.
“In your righteous judgment, you sought to undo your child. Was it not you—”
“No…! Not…”
“Knife in hand, who desired to return him to Your God?”
“Issac… I loved Issac… my baby…!” She begins to break.
“You found him. In the chest. He hid from you, Magdalene, in the one place where he knew he’d be safe–”
“No! NO! Issac… Issac…!” She gasps, trying to yell. “NO! It was YOU!”
“He wanted to be safe from your Godly Wrath. Tell me, Magdalene. Did you weep because you could not enact your Wrath by your own hand?”
Her face contorts in disgust.
“You told me. It was you. You killed Issac.”
The Creator is silent. Magdalene rasps, holding a hand to her throat. She can still feel the threads tight against her neck. Her breathing is loud and harsh, uncomfortable in the silence. When The Creator speaks, His voice is sickeningly sweet. He is speaking down to her.
“Oh, Magdalene. Have you not listened to a word He has spoken? Issac was innocent in the eyes of The Lord. Almost deserving of his place with Him. But, he is your spawn. Your womb is cursed! His seed was destined to be corrupt, filled with the vile wickedness in your heart.”
Magdalene’s face contorts as The Creator continues.
“Your faith was strong, yet now, you show your true faith. The Lord was nothing more than an excuse for you, Magdalene. Without true guidance to Him, Issac was doomed. It was necessary to drive him away from The Lord, else Heaven be warped into chaos by his wicked influence. By your wicked influence.”
He speaks ambivalently, as if this is nothing more than a trifling matter.
“If he was born of any other womb, he’d still be cursed to roam these degenerate lands. But, it is you, Magdalene. You are his doom. It was only befitting that he’d be freed from his cursed life by your hand.”
“But… my lord.” Magdalene’s voice shakes. “I did… everything, for you. I turned away… from sin… from the p-pills… from my… life… for you!”
She pleads, hoping for her faith to keep her from falling apart.
“Oh, Magdalene.” The Creator shakes His head as He speaks. “Sweet child of The Lord. You are merely Man. And Man was never meant to be with Him in Heaven.”
Magdalene blinks. She realizes she was never truly found. She’s always been lost in the dark, in an eternal haze that denied her freedom. Commanded by her parents, her husband, her manipulator, and now, Her Creator. Death was her only true escape.
Magdalene snaps.
She clamors to her feet, stomping into her kitchen. With a rush of adrenaline, she grabs the largest kitchen knife. Turning and rushing, she stabs the knife straight into the chest of The Creator. It sinks into His body, her force slamming it into the hilt. As she holds the knife there, she grits her teeth.
The Creator speaks, quietly, gently.
“Oh, My Child. Look at what you’ve become.” He seems so human. “If this is what you desire, then so be it.”
Suddenly, The Creator changes. His holy aura, bright and powerful, fades into nothing. His body turns cold in an instant. The knife remains stuck in His body. As the life seems to vanish from His body, Magdalene takes a fearful step away from Him.
In that moment, His body slumps over and hits the table with an audible thud. She remains still, waiting for Him to punish her. But His body is motionless, lifeless, empty. The room feels hollow..
Then, the cats begin growling.
Magdalene looks around, realizing she is surrounded by thousands of cats. Some of them rush towards The Creator, but most are focused solely on her. They slowly creep towards her. The growling feels like an earthquake as the horde gets closer.
Magdalene’s back hits the wall as she looks in horror at the thousands of cats. Even her own cats have turned against her. There is no escape from this.
The cats make a circle around her, their claws and teeth flexed in anticipation. She can only stand and watch them get closer. In the horde, a strange cat pushes forward. When they finally get to the front, the cat steps towards her. It meows, softly.
Magdalene falls to her knees.
It’s Issac. On four legs, with a permanent trail of tears down his face, now returning to her as a cat. It seems impossible, but it looks just like him.
Issac meows, tilting his head.
Magdalene carefully opens her arms, waiting for him.
Slowly, Issac approaches her, rubbing his head against her chest.
She embraces her lost son, holding him tightly as she closes her eyes, smiling for the last time.
As they reunite, the horde descends upon her.
In a matter of seconds, there is nothing left.
When she is gone, an opening from the clouds shines above the house on the hill.
The cats leave Boon County, swept up into the skies, returning to their Creator.
All across the Earth, they are taken back home, millions of furry paws going to a better place.
The sun is turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of The Lord.
In His anger, God is hostile towards Mankind forevermore, punishing them for their sins one billion times over. They are forced into an era of eternal pestilence, their crops destroyed, their idols defiled. They are forced to eat the flesh of their sons and the ripe flesh of their daughters. An endless bacchanalia of cannibalistic catastrophe.
Once the gates of Heaven are closed, they remain shut forever.
The Creator remains seated at His place in Heaven.
And the Earth below is rendered asunder.