Chapter 1

A Note on Power

In the co-existing parallels of the universe which house supernatural beings, angels have incredible powers mostly unknown to mankind. However, these abilities have been used so rarely, no earthly records of them have ever been created.

Angelic beings do not only have powers to work miracles of a positive nature, but also have the potential to demolish any emotion and obliterate any shred of hope in an individual or entire populations. They also have the power to destroy life. Angels have been given these powers to defend themselves against any beings that might want to unrighteously harm them in any way. All beings, however, no matter which parallel they belong to, have their own agency and free will, and therefore may choose to use their given powers how they see fit.

Demonic beings do not have such powers. Nevertheless, they do have immense strength (compared to humans), the uncanny ability to ignore a vast range of positive emotions, and last but under no circumstances the least, the power to influence.

Chapter 1

Anno Domini

(A.D.)

Just around a couple of thousand years ago, an angel was sent to earth on a mission. His mission was to spread the word of someone who was soon to enter the world in an attempt to save it. The angel was to go to every inhabited land that did not have any other means of receiving this news. He was to tell the people he encountered of the person who was trying to save humanity and they were to choose for themselves whether or not to accept the teaching and the angel was to go on his way and continue his preaching. This is not what happened.

This particular angel was taller than average, had jet-black hair, was thin but not stringy, and had what seemed far too deep a voice for his appearance. He had a square jawline, a thick neck and monstrous hands. He had no imperfections of any kind on his skin, as is the case with a vast majority of angels, though, not all. He enjoyed a good laugh, had very strong opinions and at times, a tad impatient. His name was Dominic.

Impatience for an angel is still an unbelievably high level of patience for any human to try to fathom. It would take possibly a decade or two of belligerent ignorance for any other angel with a high level of patience to get frustrated, especially with a race as simple minded as humans. But it would take roughly only three years for Dominic.

Dominic came to earth and began his preaching on an island in the North Atlantic ocean. The island roughly measured the size of modern day Italy’s boot. The natives happily populated the island enjoying their way of life which included games, monthly parties, weekly feasts, tribal celebrations, family merriment, trading, selling, working, playing and the occasional human sacrifice. Dominic tried to introduce a way of life to them that would change some of what the indigenous people believed to be the more important parts of their lifestyle (mainly the murdering parts). They believed that human sacrifices permitted them to lead a free spirited existence. Their lush, fruitful island overflowed with healthy livestock, flourishing farms, family and friends. No poverty, class system or crime existed. They didn’t have a king or a supreme ruler but instead had a small government which they rarely needed to use.

When Dominic tried to preach to them and explain that they had to change their ways, the islanders could not understand why they would risk losing all the good they had. Therefore, not a single person on the island accepted Dominic’s teachings. He did, however, get invited back to many of their clay huts for dinners, feasts and celebrations. One person even made the suggestion that Dominic should offer himself as the honorary sacrifice for the upcoming annual island festival, however he courteously declined the offer and went on his way to the next household.

Serving as the sacrifice at the annual festivity was a great honor. People would offer themselves as the sacrifice, only one week after the festivity took place. Tryouts would ensue and six months prior to the next festival, the governing body would choose the successfully worthy sacrificial applicant. The islanders would treat this person as a king or queen for the remaining 6 months. The new sacrifice would have his or hers every wish, desire and craving happily catered to. They could do just about anything they wanted with absolute impunity.

Dominic’s mission here was not to eat dinners, take part in festivities or become friends with the locals. His mission was to give everyone the opportunity to accept the message. But Dominic found himself having a small problem with rejection. Apart from the rejection, the fact that he had such an important message, he cherished so much, which no one wanted to understand because of their current comfortable lifestyle, really pissed Dominic off.

By the end of the third year, Dominic had spoken to everyone on the island. They all knew him and had tried to befriend him. They no longer considered him a visitor but as the weird religious guy they treated like family. The islanders actually quite liked Dominic, just not his opinions, which wasn’t enough for them to turn him away. Dominic, however, didn’t like any of them.

“How could anyone choose to reject something so important?” He thought. “This isn’t something that can just be swept away. This isn’t something that can just be thrown aside and forgotten. This is serious and it needs to be taken seriously.” He did not enjoy being taken lightly. He tried to persuade people and convince them of their improper way of life, according to him, but after three years, not one person on the island had chosen to change their views and somewhere along the line he started taking it personally. Finally, Dominic decided, with great relief, to leave the island. He chose the day of the festivities for the announcement of his departure.

The annual festivity included the entire population of the island. Thousands upon thousands of people showed up with as much food as they could prepare, wore only their finest loincloths, and used the most vibrant colored mud’s and pastes to decorate their bodies and faces. The islanders sat in circles with as many as ten to fifty people in a single group. In the middle of each circle cackled a fire and around each fire sat gluttonous quantities of delicious food brought by those in the circle. To indulge in another circles luscious feast, all one needed to do was join that circle. As one might guess, circles grew and shrank all night as people searched for different types of food and company.

Dominic, having become accustomed to the traditions of the natives, wore a very furry loincloth. He wore a bright red paste, framing both eyes in a vibrant rectangle. He had not prepared any food, as he did not intend on eating any tonight, as for him, tonight was about his departure. He planned on leaving early and leaving memorably. Leaving his straw hut, and using his angelic muscles, he easily picked up a large circular stone, roughly two feet in diameter, and made his way to the festivity.

By the time Dominic arrived, the stars already shone brightly in the night sky, but were easily obscured by the many brilliant fires below. Voices rang throughout the area in boisterous conversation, song and laughter. Thousands had shown up from around the entire island, many taking at least a few days journey to get there. Dominic took a deep breath, while taking a moment to soak up his surroundings. He then emerged from the shadows, and made his way to the center of the festivity where he threw down his rock. It made a dead “thud” as it became partially buried under its own weight into the ground, causing the ghostly dust to softly rise into the haunting glow of the night air.

Dominic positioned himself on his rock, and as the dust fell back into its resting place, more and more of the white eyes of the natives fell on him. Grand gestures, such as this, at the festivals were not an unusual occurrence. Often, such a grand gesture signaled to the unsuspecting, yet hopeful crowd, an extra-ordinary epic was about to be told. Such storytellers would engage the crowd, much was improvised and it was an amusing and entertaining spectacle for the participants, listeners and especially the bard. This was not to be one of those joyous moments.

When he was sure most of the attendees had their focus on him, Dominic began speaking to them in their native tongue.

“As all of you know, I have done everything in my power to give you a message of eternal life. I have given you the knowledge to live prosperously, and to continue to do so in the next life as well.”

The smiles in the crowd slowly began to fade as the islanders realized they would now have to endure a sermon instead of a tall tale of bravery, love and romance.

“Not a single one of you has chosen to accept this message though.” Dominic continued. “I have tried everything I can think of to help you understand the importance of this knowledge, but nothing, nothing has gotten through to any of you. You have such flourishing lives. You love one another and you're caring. You seek to further yourselves economically. But all of this is useless without furthering your spirituality, which you refuse to accept.”

“Why is that bad?” one of the drunken partiers yelled from somewhere in the crowd, and there was scattered agreement.

“The most significant sacrifice will be made for all of you and you are choosing to ignore it.” Dominic continued, disregarding the comment. “Now, I'm supposed to allow you to choose for yourselves, whether or not you would like to accept this information,” he said gravely as he looked around at the faces in the crowd. To him, they didn’t belong to people. Instead the people were just broken vessels that had, over generations of time, become ignorant and in need of repair.

“None of you have any idea of the implications of what you’re doing by killing an innocent person every year and you refuse to understand the severity of it.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Retorted a voice from the middle of the crowd as this year’s sacrifice broke through, completely naked and covered head to toe in multicolored paint, as if somebody puked a rainbow all over him. “This is an honor, Dominic” He continued. “I'm more than privileged to do this. Not just for my own benefit, but for the prosperity of the island.” The crowd concurred leisurely with this statement. “Also, it’s just fun having parties all the time.” The islanders then roared with shouts of excited agreement to this proclamation. When the noise died down, the sacrifice continued, “Don’t you see, Dominic? We like our lives. We’re happy.”

The islanders agreed, proud to have chosen such a wise sacrifice. As they returned back to their conversations, feasts and celebrations Dominic whispered ominously

“You won’t be happy for much longer.”

Dominic bowed his head, shut his eyes and stretched his hands to the sky. Focusing on the constant rejection from his years on the island, he collected every negative emotion within himself to create an energy of pure animosity.

Dominic brought his head up and opened his eyes. The sacrifice, being the only one still paying attention, felt fear for the first time in his life, seeing that Dominic’s eyes had become completely black.

The islanders, having gone back to their food and conversations, noticed the fires beginning to dim. The fires still burned as strong as ever, but they no longer gave off any light. Darkness completely engulfed the island. In the distance, far away from Dominic and the sacrifice, someone screamed. Slowly, more and more people joined in the screaming, until the sounds of terror, confusion, and pain consumed the entire area.

The sacrifice was the only native not moving or making a sound. He could feel the pain that slowly overcame his entire body, but the shock stopped him from reacting to it. Trying to examine himself in order to understand what was happening to his body, he looked at his hands, but the darkness prevented him from seeing anything. Instead, he then slowly rubbed his hands together and, through the pain, he could feel that they were covered in something warm and slippery. As he became weaker his body finally succumbed to the shear agony it felt. He fell to his hands and knees and, exhaling his final breath, collapsed into the dirt.

The screams faded until the island fell silent. As the fires slowly began to give light again, the carnage became apparent. Not one person remained standing. Every islander lay motionless on the ground, or on top of each other, or wherever they had fallen over. Every one of them soaked in blood.

Dominic looked around at the bloodbath he had created using his concentrated energy. His eyes went wide with shock.

“Oops.” He said to himself. “That was messy.”

Dominic did not want to clean the mess he had created. He had no idea how to even begin such a task. Instead of cleaning it up, he thought it would be easier to just get rid of it, so he sank the island. He tried for about a week to persuade the island to sink but when it wouldn’t give an inch, he decided to try the more malleable water. He climbed into a small wooden boat that resembled a canoe, and launched himself into the ocean. After about twenty minutes of negotiating with the water, a single colossal wave swallowed the island, which was never to be seen again.

Dominic knew which island he needed to travel to next, so like any other supernatural being, he naturally tried to go there by slipping into his original parallel and re-surfacing at his new destination. However, as he attempted this he did not feel the smooth, warm breeze that normally covered one’s body while traveling this way. Nor did he feel the usual comfort of the ground quickly dissolving beneath his toes and the earth falling below him, or the soft pressure surround his legs and the squish of the earth back under his toes as the ground drifted up again.  Instead he just remained motionless, and adrift in his diminutive wooden boat in the middle of the vast North Atlantic Ocean.

Dominic tried this means of traveling several more times before giving up. He sat, pondering in the boat hoping to figure out how he was supposed to preach to people if he hadn’t the ability to get to them. As he contemplated his predicament, he felt his boat begin to slowly rise and then subsequently fall as a large wave went under him. Soon, another similar wave set him in motion again. And another. And then another. As dark clouds loomed, Dominic realized a malicious storm now surrounded him.

The three years spent on the now non-existent island had taught Dominic to recognize the signs of an approaching storm and how to swiftly prepare for it. However, being stuck in a tiny handcrafted wooden canoe that barely fit him and his one oar, did not allow Dominic to properly prepare. When the boat would inevitably capsize and toss him into the unforgiving ocean, taking a deep breath was about the best he would be able to muster.

The only thing that now lit the noon sky was the frequent terrorizing lightning, whose thunder was the only sound that could be heard over the gnashing of the infuriated waves. With the angry tempest upon him, Dominic could do nothing but hang on for the ride.

After an hour of enduring fifty-foot waves, winds that pushed 200 miles per hour, flipping upside down and out of his boat numerous times (losing his only paddle after the first flip), Dominic began to feel slightly disheartened.

Roughly three months later, of enduring the vicious sea, Dominic understood that no one from his parallel would be coming to help or rescue him; he was desperately alone.

Finally, after nine months, the storm relaxed to just a steady downpour. The winds slowed and the waves calmed, but the rain did not cease. Whether he had remained stuck in one place for the last nine months, or had drifted with the storm, or some other phenomenon had taken place, he didn’t know. He didn’t even know how much time had passed, as he hadn’t seen the sun during the whole horrifying experience. He did know, however, that the foreign feelings of hunger, fatigue, soreness, and sickness had overpowered him, and he desired above all else to stand on solid ground.

After about a year, the rains eventually stopped. The clouds lightened and disappeared and the sun finally showed its beautiful face. The beauty was short lived however, as the scorching heat was not much better than the freezing downpour. The only upside, Dominic thought, was that now he wouldn’t be dumped, repeatedly and against his will, out of his boat.

Six or seven more months of dehydration and intense heat, Dominic welcomed the rain when it began to pour once more. However his situation changed yet again as he noticed the temperature becoming colder and colder. Still only wearing the same loincloth as when he destroyed the island, he was not adequately prepared for the snowflakes that began to dance gracefully into his boat.

As the years went by, Dominic faced every possible weather condition: unbearable heat, severe cold and torrential rain. He encountered these situations repeatedly. It took him longer than it should have to realize this was all just a trial. He knew one is only given as many trials as one can handle, thus he knew he must not give into his feelings of despair. Unfortunately, this knowledge didn’t console him in any way. He felt despair. He felt alone. He felt helpless.

Now every time a storm happened, he wished lightning would strike him, but it never did. He attempted to drown himself, but his lungs rejected every drop of water they were offered. Once there even appeared a school of sharks around him. He dove under the water and tried to look as delicious as possible. However, he was not lucky enough to be eaten; the sharks shunned him and swam off. Dominic had lost all hope and, by this point, most of his sanity. Naturally then, when he saw land far in the distance, he dismissed it as a trick played on him by his insane brain. As he drifted nearer to the land, which seemed to be growing in size, Dominic had finally reached his breaking point and assumed he had absolutely no reason or sanity left.

“This is a trick, Dominic. Don’t fall for it.” He demanded to himself. “You’ve just spent too many days on this stupid little boat and now you only think you see land.”

“But what if it really is land?” He asked himself.

“It isn’t. You know that the world was flooded once, and it happened again after you sunk that island. No land exists anymore. We are destined for this trial, and we will stay afloat as long as is needed for you to learn your lesson.”

He slumped over the edge of the tiny vessel, allowing his arms to droop, his hands lazily touching the white sand he was now beached on. He sadly sighed and lethargically lazed his heavy head on his sun worn shoulder.

“What if this really is land though?” he asked himself again as he picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingertips.

“I already said, the flood happened again.”

“But wasn’t there a promise that no flood like that would happen again?”

“Yes, but” He started to explain to himself, but couldn’t think of anything to say so he stopped talking and sat in silence for the rest of the sweltering afternoon. To pass the time, he made little designs in the sand with his fingers until the waves would wash it away and he would start over again. He listened to the soft surf roll onto the beach as he tried his hardest not to think about anything at all. However, it took a lot of concentration for him to ignore the logical part of his brain, but as he now believed himself insane, he felt it necessary to disregard any rational thought.

Finally, when the sun was low on the horizon he spoke again,

“Maybe I’m back home.”

“No.” He sharply replied to himself.

“But”

“No. This is the ocean. You’re on a little boat in the middle of the ocean and that sand you’re playing with is a horrible ruse invented by your confused brain. Just stop trying to make this real. Nothing you say, do or think will make this a reality. In fact, I think I just figured out the trial.”

“Really? Does that mean we can go home then?

“Not until we pass the trial.”

“Then how do we pass it?”

“You have to understand that you cannot have what is always most desired in the earthly sense, but what is most desirable spiritually. All you want is land, land, land but is that what’s really best for your spirit?”

He thought about this for a moment, considered what would happen if he said yes, and weighed the possibility of him actually being able to return home if he said no and then with almost no confidence said,

“Maybe.” and waited for a response. When one didn’t come he continued with, “Not? Maybe not?”

“Exactly” he said to himself proudly. “Now remove your fingers from that make believe sand, and work on your spiritual needs so we can finally go home.”

He took his hands out of the sand, sat in the boat facing the ocean again, waited patiently for the sun to set and fell asleep. He dreamed of white sand on a lonely beach. The vibrant green leaves of the palm trees stood out in beautiful contrast to the magnificent blue sky. He stood on the beach, staring intently at the waves washing the sand over his feet. He felt the water gently flowing between his toes. A smile grew across his face as he felt momentarily comforted.

Suddenly, something about the water disturbed him. As he focused on the water, a few seconds of hard concentration elapsed before he remembered that water didn’t normally have a hint of red in it. Also, waves weren’t supposed to sound like thousands of people softly screaming. Listening intently, Dominic noticed the closer the waves rolled into shore the louder the screams became until they began to deafen him. He slowly regained his hearing as the waves retreated. They sounded like a horde of tortured souls taking in a deep breath, preparing for the next ear-piercing scream. A gloom slowly settled over Dominic as the water darkened into a more sinister shade of crimson until at last, when he felt that his ears were going to explode, he woke up with a start.

Dominic jolted up quickly, taking a deep raspy breath as he did so. His body was damp with sweat, partly due to the disturbing nature of his dream and partly because the sun was beating down on him. He didn’t know what part of the day, what season or what year it was. He just knew he was hot and wished for the relief of some shade. If only this island wasn’t in his imagination. The palm trees, though sparse, looked like the little shadows they provided would be very nice to sit under. Instead he would have to flip over his boat and crawl beneath it for protection from the sun.

Dominic then got out of the boat and turned it upside down. He sat cross legged on the sand and rested one end of the boat on his head, like an oddly shaped and oversized sombrero, while the other end dug into the sand. After many hours of this, his head got sore, driving him to flip the boat back over and sat in it again.

“I really wish this was a real island,” he said to himself. He sighed and played in the sand with his fingers again for a few more hours. He repeated this, the conversations with himself and had the same dream for a number of days. Eventually he decided to show himself who was in charge.

“You know what? I don’t care if that island isn’t real. I’m stepping onto that beach, walking across to the grass, and I am going to lie down under a palm tree,” he persuaded himself with timid confidence.

“If you do that, you will accomplish nothing but lose your boat,” he pompously replied. “I don’t care anymore.”

Dominic knew he now had to take a step out of the boat, not understanding that he had already been resting on the sand, with a boat as a hat, for a few hours out of every day, for the last several days. Eventually, the anticipation grew unbearable. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and nervously stepped out of the boat. His foot touched down in the soft, wet sand. He cautiously opened one eye and looked at his toes. He was too shocked to react. He then opened his other eye and stared at his foot securely sinking in the soft satisfying sand. His mind raced about the last several days he had pointlessly spent on and under his boat, frustrated and embarrassed for having listened to himself for so long. Angrily reflecting on his ridiculous voyage, asinine suicide attempts and numerous infuriating theological and philosophical questions, caused him to forget to breathe. He then passed out, face first into the sand. The waves splashed against Dominic, grasping his unconscious body, slowly pulling him back out towards the open, endless ocean.

Easter

Dominic dreamed the same dream he’d had since being stranded on his boat; the white sand, the green leaves, the blue sky and the tortured waves. He awoke with a start, sitting up quickly and inhaling deep and loudly as he did so, at the same point in the dream: just as he thought his ears would explode from the intense pain brought on by the tormented screaming of the ocean. Although, when he woke this time, he was not in a boat and the sun was not beating down on him. Instead he found himself sitting on the soft grass with the moon high above him, modestly shining down.

“This is nice for a change” he thought. He then recalled having smashed his face into the sand, and wondered how he had arrived at where he now sat.

            Dominic looked around trying to find someone he could talk to in order to help him figure out simple pieces of information, like where he was, the date, and if this island was real, or if he was still sitting on a boat in the middle of the ocean but was too insane to know the difference. Finding nothing around him however, but rocky structures, he rested his head back on the soft grass and went to sleep where he dreamed of the terrorized ocean, yet again.

            Dominic awoke with his normal start, deep breath and erratic movement. It was sunny again, but this time he saw people going about their business. No one seemed to notice him, even though many people seemed as though they had to go out of their way not to walk on top of him. Dominic stood up slowly and wavered as he did so. He looked around and took in his surroundings.

At long last, he had finally found the next island he needed to convert.

            The first thing he had to do was find out the common language used on the island. He looked for a friendly face. Finding someone who appeared easily approachable, Dominic started a conversation with him. He started in Swahili, but the islander looked confused. He then tried Tamil to which the islander’s facial reaction didn’t change. Another islander then stood next to the first one. Dominic tried to speak to them in Japanese. One islander asked the other what was happening, and the other explained that he didn’t know, he was just on his way to his farm and this crazy red colored man just started speaking in tongues at him.

After hearing their conversation, Dominic understood they were speaking a form of Polynesian that sounded vaguely familiar to a Marquesan language. He adapted quickly, but was concerned for just a moment that he didn’t immediately understand it. He didn’t have time to dwell on the matter though as he had a lot of work to do. He asked the islanders who was in charge on the island, and where he could find that person. They directed him to a man named Hotu Matu’a. Dominic found him near a stone hut not far from the beach he had landed on, and was invited in to discuss Dominic’s business.

“My name is Dominic, and I have been sent here to give to you and your people a message of love and salvation.” Dominic introduced himself, getting straight to business. “I respectfully request your presence, and the presence of all your people, so that I may speak to you for just a few moments about this message.”

“I am Hotu Matu’a, this islands supreme chief and high ruler,” Hotu introduced himself, and did not mind the forwardness of this strange man. “and tell me, why should I allow this meeting to take place? You look like a red devil, and from what you’ve just told me, you sound like one. Or possessed, or crazy, at least. What will my people think of me as their chief if I allow you to speak to us?”

“I’m not quite sure, but honestly, I don’t care.” Dominic explained. “This message is more important than your reputation and mine as well. But perhaps we can reach an understanding, if that would make you more comfortable. If you arrange this meeting for me, afterwards I will be indebted to you for the remainder of your days.” Dominic said this, believing that the chief would not have any days remaining after the meeting.

Hotu considered this deal, and denied it. “No. For something that could ruin my authority over these people, I will need much more than that.” He then, after some consideration, continued, “You and your children, and their children’s children will be my family’s servants. For four generations, your posterity will serve mine.”

“Deal.” Dominic held out his hand in agreement immediately, not considering the contract at all. Hotu didn’t grab his hand to shake it, but instead continued speaking,

“When would you like this meeting to take place then?”

“In half a moon’s cycle.”

“Where?”

“The beach where I came in.”

“I assume that is the same beach I found you drowning three days ago?” Hotu asked.

Dominic hadn’t yet considered how he got back onto the island after he had passed out, or the possibility that he had been passed out for any more time than a single night. This was information that didn’t really matter to him at the moment though. Perhaps he would reflect on it when he was off this island and on his way to a new one. Right now however, he explained to Hotu Matu’a that that was indeed the same beach, and it would be best if the meeting could happen at dusk. Hotu then dismissed Dominic from his company.

Dominic spent the next two weeks preparing for his big night. He fashioned a new loincloth, so he would look his best. He gathered food, hoping it would be enough to last him at least few weeks, if he rationed it properly, while on the water. He also decided to build a new boat, one with more room in it, as the last one became cramped very quickly. The meeting day rapidly approached Dominic’s metaphorical doorstep, as he slept under a tree and didn’t actually have a doorstep.

He dressed himself in his new loincloth, built a bon fire on the beach and waited next to the fruits and nuts he had picked, piled in his new boat, for the islanders to arrive. They did so relatively slowly, but before long, people filled the beach. Most of the islanders appeared annoyed but Dominic didn’t care. Finally, Hotu Matu’a bumped, pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to the shore and took his place beside Dominic.

“Everybody!” The islands supreme chief exclaimed, as chiefly as he could. “Everybody, shut up!” to which the islanders’ conversations slowly subsided and reluctantly turned their attentions to their chief. “This man has something to say to us. He says he will change our lives.” A light murmuring began to rise through the crowd and Hotu spoke again. “I will now let him give his message, but remember, I have nothing to do with him,” he said as he pointed at Dominic, and moved back into the crowd.

Dominic was expecting more of an introduction but chose not to dwell on it. “I am aware that none of you know who I am,” he began. “Who I am doesn’t matter, but the message I have been assigned to give to you, that is what’s important. It is a message of salvation and love. Under other circumstances, I probably would have presented this message to each of you individually. It could have taken many years for me to do so and by taking up my time I would also be taking up your time, and this is not something I would like to do again.” He paused briefly and the crowd began to murmur. “I am not going to attempt to give you this message as I know you will all reject it anyways. You live on an island and therefore, by my own previous experiences I know you will treat this message as a joke. Instead, I’m going to give you the advantage of not wasting any more of your own time.”

The crowd now began to discuss with what a waste of time this was. Only Hotu noticed Dominic’s head bowing. He had no idea what Dominic was doing, but Hotu slowly became more convinced that this man was nothing short of insane. Dominic brought up his head and opened his eyes which immediately fell on Hotu, whose disinterested expression slightly alarmed Dominic. He bowed his head again. The crowds chatter grew louder. Conversations steered away from the insane devil man and over to farming techniques, fishing strategies, family life and other such topics. Dominic raised his head fearfully and again saw Hotu’s same indifferent expression staring back at him.

Nothing happened. No blackout. No blood. No carnage. Just talking. Dominic bowed his head and again tried to exterminate all life off this island. Meanwhile, some islanders casually walked into the ocean a short distance. A few minutes later, as Dominic brought his head up again, he saw people walking back to beach with the writhing fish they had just caught with their bare hands. This time Hotu was not to be seen and people were now using Dominic’s bonfire to cook their freshly caught fish. The crowd shrank and swelled as people left and returned with their own food to cook. Some came back with drums and the crowd became a rhythmic flood of music and dancing in sync with the undulating flames of the bonfire. This meeting was ending the same way the last meeting Dominic attended had started; as a party.

A moment of understanding fell upon Dominic. Not sure whether the thumping he felt consume his body was the bass of the drums or the first time he’s ever noticed his heart beating, he came to the horrifying realization that he was stuck on earth. He had done something very bad, and he was not going to be allowed back home.

Dominic drunkenly stumbled to his boat, laid down, and while hugging his knees, he began to sob like a baby. He had never cried before and even though it was slightly relieving, he did not like it. In fact, there was nothing about his current situation he did like, but he knew that not liking a situation doesn’t change it, and this knowledge just made him cry harder. If any of the islanders had been able to hear him, they would have thought even less of him than they already did. Luckily for him though, their music, conversations and singing were too loud, so he and his wails were left alone.

Dominic awoke with a start, in his boat, the next day, overshadowed by Hotu.

“You can start fulfilling your debt to me by making yourself a hut beside mine. If you are to serve me, I will need you close by.”

Dominic had no idea what Hotu was talking about, but as his brain started working more clearly he remembered the deal he struck with the chief.

“Gather your food if you wish. Remember to tie your boat.” Hotu said, and walked away.

Dominic decided to stay on the island to fulfill his obligation. He rationalized that staying on the island, even if he had to be a servant and the natives thought he was crazy, at least he wasn’t alone in a haggard mini canoe in the middle of the vast and unforgiving ocean.

He soon learned the ways of the island, the people, their customs, traditions and history. They had many difficult trials on the island which Dominic theorized was due to their skewed philosophies, especially in building big headed statues that they trapped the spirits of their ancestors in to ward off demons and angry gods. They had civil wars, famines and they were slowly killing off all living things on the island. He knew how to help them, but instead chose to let them slowly exterminate themselves. He assumed they would disregard what he said anyways, so he didn’t say anything, ever. It wasn’t long before most of the islanders just assumed that Hotu had removed Dominic’s tongue so he wouldn’t bother anyone again.

Eventually, after a hard but happy life, while on his deathbed, the islands supreme chief, Hotu Matu’a, bestowed upon his sons different parts of the island to rule over, as well as giving his eldest son, Tu’u Maheke, possession of Dominic. By the time the sons had grown old, and Dominic had yet to age at all, wars began to break out for dominance over him. Everyone wanted to know the secret to eternal life. Dominic wanted to tell them how they really could achieve this, and give them the message he was sent to earth to tell, but instead, he just let them all fight over him.

After Tu’u Maheke’s death, his family and clan began to fight with another clan on the island, and in the midst of them battling one another (which simply meant they went and tipped over the other tribes big headed statues in the night so they would be attacked by demons) Dominic walked away. He was bored with their meaningless lives and concluded that his life would be better alone, after all.

Dominic’s mysterious disappearance created even more wars. Every clan assumed every other one had Dominic, so they all constantly fought with each other for possession of him. Eventually, more hostility than just tipping over each other’s giant stone heads began to take place. Like many long rivalries, the clans on the island eventually forgot why they were fighting in the first place and just got used to disagreeing with one another, despite not having a reason. Over time, Dominic’s story became a fairy tale mothers told their children before bed. He was a punisher in some circles, a gift giver in others, but no matter his role, he always lived forever.

In reality, Dominic lived all over the local islands in order to survive, always making sure to stay out of sight. Remaining unseen became easier and easier as more and more people began dying due to war, starvation, and then, because of the ripple effect, cannibalism.

Eventually, in the year 1722, on a beautiful, sun-shiny Easter Sunday, a Dutch explorer named Jacob, mistakenly found the island. Dominic saw the large ship near the beach and he immediately knew he was leaving the island. When roughly 150 men from the ships set foot on the island, Dominic came out from hiding with a plan to trick the natives. Over generations of living in the sun, his skin had turned brown, so when he approached a group of the locals, it never even crossed their minds that they were being spoken to by the fairytale their mothers told them about at bedtime. Dominic told them that the guns the white men had were gifts but that they couldn’t give them away. The guns had to be taken, because as in the white men’s culture, it was the definitive sign of trust.

Of course, when the islanders then tried to take the guns away from the crew, they opened fire on the islanders. After only a few days, Jacob the explorer decided to leave the island and Dominic convinced the crew to take him as a souvenir and they made their way back to the Netherlands. With lifetimes of practice being unnoticeable on the islands, Dominic easily snuck away upon their arrival. He casually walked away from the ship hoping to never make any kind of an impact on the world again.