THE LAST RAY

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗥𝗔𝗬

You squat on the cold concrete floor and gaze out the barred windows, looking up at the pale orb in the sky, casting an eerie glow in your cell. The shadows dance in this claustrophobic space where you are quarantined.

Tears well up in your eyes as you remember the former times of bliss when things were relatively normal.

You were a successful agriculturist and owned a successful agro farm business that thrived in several regions across the five tectonic continents. You attributed your success to God’s face smiling down on you. It was one of the things that gave you hope for Earth, despite the rapidly changing climate.

Things had gone bad, with men rejecting God, their hearts reprobate. Real Christians were an endangered species. You became saved in the early stages of your business’s spurt growth. That was how you were one of the few existing Christians with a great influence in a major sector of the world.

But then, in the year 2298, the sun began to die out, as if its colour was being bleached out slowly. The sun became white and all the formerly-brilliant colours on the earth warped into a depressing monochrome. All plant life died out slowly. The animals began to go extinct also. Everyone panicked. Only the extremely rich class could eat a meagre meal once a day and at an exorbitant price.
You were in this class. And you made sure to use your sparse resources—the food you’d stacked up in safe houses, based on a God-given instruction you’d received in a dream (akin to what Joseph in the Scriptures had told Pharaoh to do)—to feed the small fellowship of believers you associated with. It was all you could manage. But then, you knew that with time, two years max, the supply would fade out.

You sensed in your heart that this was God’s judgement, his way of trying to get the world to repent. But men only cursed God the more for something that was a result of their evil actions.

At the turn of the century, as things grew worse and more of the global population died, something unusual happened, something every unsuspecting human thought was the ray of hope they’d been crying for.
The government claimed they had been in contact with an intelligent race of humanoid aliens called the Neiflims for months and that they would be finally coming to make things right. You were sceptical as you watched the news broadcast that relayed this announcement.

When the Neiflims finally showed up in their numbers in their hovering space pods at the Central Government District of each continent, the desperation made people look past their grotesque brownish reptilian skin and their piercing green bulbous eyes.
These were the Neiflims?
You felt repulsed that these beings had so easily beguiled everyone who hung on their every word. Oh, you hated the fact that they used a translating device—an implanted Augmented Super Intelligence chip—to allegedly communicate with humans. It gave off the mark of the beast vibes. Of course, you and the other believers didn’t receive the mark.
You didn’t stop praying, but it seemed as though Heaven had shut its gates.

The Neiflims were quite persuasive and had lots of technological innovations that helped salvage the damage that had wrecked the earth. They convinced humanity that the event of the sun’s expiration was a necessary cleansing for the Earth. According to them, there had to be a final round of sieving—getting rid of narrow-minded religious bigots, most especially Christians, since such beliefs were only detrimental to collective progress. They blatantly pronounced that there was no such thing as God. The universe was self-sufficient and ever-expanding for endless possibilities.

They painted a picture of another planet of bliss—Styxion, they called it—and promised to make arrangements to transport the few privileged and qualified humans over to this habitable planet to start a new life.

So, they began to round up Christians and try to reprogram them—a mild way of saying they compelled them to recant their faith.

You and your fellowship of believers managed to stay in hiding for as long as you could manage. Today, however, marks the third day since you’ve been captured and thrown into this empty dungeon, separated from each other.

This cell is saturated with a strange-smelling aerosol. You know they put you here so that your defences will be weakened faster.
Every day is a mental tug-of-war that leaves you exhausted each time. Only prayers and the word of God have been keeping you afloat.

There are voices in your head, relentless, taunting, begging you to allow them to come out and overpower your mind.

‘If your God is real, then why would he watch and see his beloved world crumble,’ the voices whisper, snickering. ‘If he’s real, why permit Neiflims to come to earth to try to salvage this mess.’

You put your hands over your ears to block out these blasphemous sounds. You mutter verses of scripture aloud to ward off the lies you’re being force-fed. You wonder how much longer you’ll be able to withstand them.

On day one of your capture, the Neiflims showed you clips of how they’d cruelly eliminated other stubborn believers like you all over the globe. But those who were ‘wise enough to let go of their foolish obsession with a non-existent God’ were now counted among the qualified and were receiving treatment in the recuperating camps.
You didn’t budge.

On day two, the Neiflims used their technological tricks to project physical torture of all types. The layers of torture were not enough to kill you but enough to stretch your senses thin—electrocution, lashing. You infuriated them all the more when you kept on screaming out the name of Jesus. They left you in a heap of pain and exhaustion after hours of doing this to you.

This is the period of the ultimate desecration, but you are determined not to relent. You won’t cave into the hypnosis that has descended upon the world.
You know that these Neiflims are nothing but demons disguised as aliens with higher knowledge and a better world to offer. Liars! The whole lot of them. It pains you that so many have been so easily deceived.

The only moments of relief you enjoy are fleeting times when you can snatch a minute or two of sleep.

But now, you cannot sleep. A deep sense of anticipation has risen in your heart. And though you are thirsty and hungry, you are expectant for something greater. You know your fellow believers have either caved in by now or are holding on, praying. So you close your eyes as you face the window, and you pray in the spirit. It seems there is a crack in the brazen Heavens because you can feel God’s warmth envelope you.

Moments later, the metal door swings open noisily. You flinch but don’t turn back. The Neiflim guards must be here to take you for an execution because your time of decision has elapsed. Your mind is resolute, though you are afraid. There’s no backing down. You have decided to follow Jesus till the very end.

But when the minutes pass and you don’t hear the stomping feet or feel slimy cold hands grab you and force you to your feet, you open your eyes and slowly turn away from the window to check who it is that opened the door.

Your eyes widen in shock as you take in the vista of the glorious muscular man before you. You blink again so many times because it has been so long since you last saw anything in full colour. The man was tall, his blonde hair almost reaching the door lintel. He wore a rich brown dress that resembled a medieval armour. There was a royal blue insignia on his sash which was on his shoulder. It bore the symbol of the cross and immediately, you know. You know that all your prayers haven’t been in vain, for this is a warrior of Heaven who has come to rescue you.

“The banquet is ready. The king has summoned his faithful bride. Those who have dwelt in the seat of satan, yet have not denied him. Those who have kept his word and washed their robes in his blood. Those who endured the great tribulation,” the man says, without opening his lips. You notice then that the taunting voices have ceased.

He draws nearer, stretches his hand and you rise and slowly accept it in a daze.

You wonder if you’re dead and this is just a passage into Heaven. But then, you care less. The sense of anticipation makes perfect sense now. Finally, like Enoch and Elijah of old, you are about to transit and see your Lord face to face.