"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win"
― Stephen King
"It's a poorboy sanditch,' Roland said. 'With lots of mayo, whatever that is. I'd want a sauce that didn't look quite so much like come, myself, but may it do ya fine."
― Also Stephen King (The Dark Tower)
1
In the highest tower of Kaleidoscope City, there was a strange egg. For starters, it was big enough to hold a human being, and that's what it did. Since it was transparent, inside you could see a human being curled up in a ball, wrapped in the egg.
But not for long. Like any egg, it hatched.
Its fluids fell into the sea of the dark of the night. And on black wings like a raven's, she soared. Naked, but she wasn't human to begin with. Her body was like black glass, and there was nothing to see; she had a mouth and eyes, but no sexual organs.
The world didn't come to bless the birth of a new being. The world already belonged, or should belong, to human beings, so they could only hate and fear it.
The only thing around her were war helicopters. Soldiers ready for anything, even giving their lives.
But they didn't even have the chance to give them, nor did they get anything out of it. The woman raised a hand, clenched a fist.
That was it.
For that, the helicopters around her fell burning into the night like shooting stars.
The woman descended towards Sylvester, who was on his knees on the ground, his body covered with severe wounds. There was no trace of whatever had been used to wound him so severely. One thing was certain, the holes were too large to be bullet wounds.
"What are you?"
The woman did not answer.
She grabbed his chin and pulled him toward her as if to kiss him.
Face to face.
Sylvester's shadowed eyes in front of the slitted eyes of an inhuman creature, a creature that didn't even belong to this world.
"The time of humanity has come to an end. That is all that matters."