"Long before the age of ice and cages, Veloris Three celebrated its ascension to the best inhabited planet in the Pixlis Galaxy by charging other planets a fee for the elves? services. The arrival of man, well, humans altered Veloris Three forever, to which the elves have never quite forgotten or forgiven," Marshall Johnson said to a small group of people, his eyes steady and clear.
His voice rang out, deep and true. Minister Johnson, as he was known to most, grimaced as his eyes took in the small circle of people. "Let us bow our heads and pray for Eve, Evelyn and Ellen Smith of Earth."
They bowed their heads and prayed silently as Minister Johnson spoke to God aloud. His voice shook with full emotion.
Towards the front of the grouping, Grace and John Smith hugged each other and wept openly. Behind them other members of the colony pressed closer as if afraid to be left on the fringes of the group.
"Amen," Marshall said and the group echoed it back to him.
They had buried the three girls, but not before they had all seen what had happened to them. The bite marks, the savagery was brutal, but what scared him were the eyes. They were gone. It was as if their souls had been sucked out or burned out of them.
"Elves," John Smith said, his voice strained and tired. "Is there any doubt, minister?"
Marshall shook his head. He could feel the cold air against his ears as it blew across his hair. "Elves."
The crowd dispersed with the mumbling of elves. Condolences were given with trembling voices and pats on the back. They went back to their camps that were dotted throughout the Western Forest.
John Smith stood close to six feet and his blonde head was hung in despair. "So the stories sent to Earth were true?"
"It appears so," Marshall said. "But what did we know of elves? They make cookies and Christmas gifts."
John sighed. He brought his eyes to Marshall’s. "We were warned! Now lookit. I?ve lost three daughters!"
Grace Smith grabbed her husband’s hand and tugged. "Don?t go talkin? to the minister that way, John. It’s God’s will?"
John’s face features construed into a mash of fury. He spat at Marshall’s feet. "Screw God and you!"
Grace gasped and fell forward to her knees. "Forgive us minister. Forgive us!"
He understood their pain and their confusion. They needed someone to blame. He glanced down at Grace’s bowed head and said calmly, "There is nothing to forgive."
She hesitated and finally stood up. With an angry glance at her husband, she disappeared into one of the two handmade tents that housed what was left of their colony.
John, however, remained outside the tent, glaring at Marshal?a little bit away rested the newly buried bodies of his three daughters. Beneath his green eyes were heavy, dark circles and his mouth seemed pressed into a nearly invisible line of grief. "You can?t bring ?em back."
"No, I can?t," Marshall agreed solemnly. "There is nothing I can do. You must make peace with their passing as best you can."
"Screw you!" John said bitterly, his eyes overflowing with tears. He spun around and climbed into his tent without a second look back.
Marshall closed his Bible and made his way back to his own tents. As he moved through the gloomy forest, he lifted his lantern to guide his way. The oppressive dark seemed to consume the light, and he stumbled and tripped often.
He thought back to the hellish night. They had only been gone a short while. A meeting had been called back at the campsite of Avery and Aaron to settle a quarrel that had come up. Here in the middle of a foreign planet, no police could regulate the situation. There were no laws and no conscience, it would seem.
To prevent anarchy, the colonist often used a jury system where people of the colony would listen to both sides and vote, with his vote being the tiebreaker if one was needed. As a minister, he was the sole figurehead for justice and equality.
They saw the flash of azure light and heard the girls? screams. They hurried as fast as they could back to the Smith campsite. It had only been a few minutes, but the girls, oh father, the girls--
His mind stopped as he reached his camp, as if to alleviate the sordid images that whipped through his mind. He noted the extinguished campfire. Curse the howling, frigid wind of this hunk of ice, he thought as he sat down his lantern. He set about getting a fire started again, for he knew he would not sleep well tonight.
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