Tragic Tales of Hindhoof Fallout

It was a barren wasteland. Bits of rubble could be seen here and there. Remains of buildings could be seen in all directions. It was almost devoid of life. The ground a smooth silver. Despite the spots of wreckage, it was a somewhat clean wasteland.

In the north of the wasteland, there was a church. Most buildings in the wasteland were destroyed or abandoned. This was the exception. The very old church was almost entirely intact. Its bell was disconnected however. The bell laid on the ground by the front doors. Around the church were several small huts. About a dozen to be exact. It was a village. A bit of a rarity in this wasteland. Most survivors leaned towards being alone or very small groups. Raiders didn’t even bother the church. Even they were too creeped out to steal from them.

This was the church of Omseh. Most other survivors called them a cult. They believed that this land was a purgatory for those unworthy of the old world. They thought that only by accepting Omseh as the one true god, they would soon be sent to paradise. All he would ask for in return is true dedication, and sacrifices in his name. These were the thoughts of Father Fred. He was here long before the other members. He claimed to once see the great Omseh’s face. The most any other member had seen was the great Omseh’s hoof. A hoof that would either bring great gifts if he was pleased, or great suffering if he was not.

The bell rang loud. One of the cult members was hitting it with a rock. It signified it was time for worship. Families began to filter out of the huts, and slowly enter the church. They sat themselves, and patiently waited for Father Fred to speak. He stood at the front.

“Glory to Omseh.” Father Fred said. It was always the opening phrase.

“Glory to Omseh.” the members responded. It was tradition to always respond the same. It was even used as a greeting among them.

“Today is a good day.” the priest said. “We have survived many days and many nights. The great Omseh is pleased with us. Our offerings have not been in vain my brothers and sisters. We have been fed well by his grace. With our food running out, we must make an offering once more.” Father Fred stepped down from his podium. He walked down to the pews.

“Like before,” the priest said. ”three of you can volunteer as offerings to the great Omseh. Those who volunteer will be greatly missed. Yet, your spirits will join the great Omseh in paradise! Who of you will make this choice?”

It was silent for a moment. Being offered up to the great Omseh was a straight shot to paradise. However, no one wanted to leave their families. Eventually, three elderly men stood up. Father Fred took a moment to hug each of them.

“Praise to these brave men!” the priest shouted. “Praise be!”

“Praise be!” the members cheered. Everyone in the church got up to hug the three elderly men. Soon, the three would join the great Omseh in paradise.

Father Fred made his way to the doors. Everyone got up to follow. The three elderly men were picked up by the younger men to be carried. They deserved to be comfortable in their final moments before paradise.

After an hour’s walk north, they reached their destination. The northern wall. The same silvery metal as they stood on. It stretched miles into the sky. At the base of the wall was a wide, shallow ditch.

“The great Omseh will be pleased today!” Father Fred shouted. “Praise be!”

“Praise be!” everyone shouted once more.

The three elderly men gave one last wave to the crowd as they were carried down by the younger men. They were carefully laid down on the ground. The men made their way back up to higher ground. As the men rejoined the crowd, Father Fred spoke again.

“Now brothers and sisters!” he said. “Now we wait for the great Omseh to accept our offerings! Glory to Omseh!”

“Glory to Omseh!” the members said back.

While they waited for Omseh, the cult members relaxed. The children kept themselves occupied. They would take turns pretending to be Omseh. The other children would give the pretend Omseh ‘offerings’ of rocks and twigs. The pretend Omseh would give them hugs if the ‘offerings’ were accepted. They would chase them around if the ‘offerings’ were denied. It was fun to watch them pretend.

The adults would laying on the ground, looking at the sky. Most of them were hoping for a glimpse of the great Omseh’s face. Sometimes they would be lucky and see bits of him. Most of the time you would only see his great hoof.

Father Fred, would pass the time speaking of his encounters with Omseh.

“He was so close to me.” he said. “His face was so large, I couldn’t comprehend its sheer size. I was far too insignificant to hear his voice, but I could feel his words of love. His eyes pierced through my soul with such intensity. As I forced myself to walk, I came upon our church for the first time. I could hear the voice of an angel echo in my ears. The name of the great one spoken to me. Then, I knew my purpose.”

Before the priest could continue his stories, the air rumbled. The land went dark. Everyone looked up. The sky they were all used to, was now yellow. Faces were filled with joy. Finally, they were about to send offerings to his glory.

As the hoof descended, its thunderous movement echoed into their ears. They felt it shake their bodies. It was so massive, but it was still so far away. It encompassed all of their collective sight, but they still could not comprehend it all.

The adults covered the ears of the children as the hoof was about to make impact. His greatness was so gargantuan, movement alone caused thunderous booms that could make you deaf. A few had learned this the hard way. It was another few brief seconds as the hoof came down.

Then the impact. As the great Omseh’s hoof slammed into the ground, some were knocked to the ground by the sheer force. The three elderly men had been offered to Omseh. Their bodies were obliterated instantly.

The ground shook once more. Everyone turned around, and cheered. A blue orb that rose into the sky had landed behind them. The priest ran to be in front of everyone.

“The great one has accepted our offerings!” Father Fred said. “He gifts us food! Glory to Omseh!”

“Glory to Omseh!” everyone cheered. They all ran to the orb. They encircled it, and began to tear out chunks. They devoured them ravenously. Some were crying tears of joy.

While the cult members feasted, the hoof rose. It left the silver wasteland once more. Under the hoof was now three stains of red. The bloody, mutilated stains of the sacrificed. Bones were crushed. Organs hung off splattered and tattered. Bits of bones poked through bloody skin. All three elderly men had smiles that were deformed by the hoof.

***

Tomson was having a spot of bad luck. The yellow pony had gotten some fresh blueberries to snack on. It was so hard to get fresh fruit for his size. He walked from his kitchen to his living room when it happened.

The blueberries spilled. It was quite annoying. He could only blame himself. Balancing a bowl on a hoof was no small feat. He picked up the blueberries he could find. He then sat on his couch to eat them. He was pretty sure he got them all. Of course this isn’t true. Tomson found out the hard way.

He was about to walk out and get the mail. It was fairly muddy out. He put on his hoofshoes that he had absentmindedly left in the kitchen. When his right rear hoof entered the shoe, he felt it. He missed a single blueberry. He pulled his hoof out of the shoe. The culprit was formerly stuck to the bottom of his hoof. It was small enough to get stuck under his hoof without getting squished.

Annoyed, Tomson went to get the mail without the hoofshoes.