The Bright Side.

Peter Smith has just found out he has a month left to live due to a lethal brain tumour.
He has also just found out that in less than a month, the human race will become extinct and that he has been chosen to be one of six humans to survive the approaching apocalypse. And who has saved him? E.I.P.F, the Earth Inhabitant Protection Front, a group of intergalactic environmentalists who want to save just one species.
And so, whilst also keeping his deadly secret from the aliens, Peter embarks on a quest to rally the chosen survivors, whilst avoiding Government Agents, the secret services, Satanists, Velociraptors, and a manic depressive Tyrannosaurus .


10. Chapter 10

 Emilia stared at the de-robed members of The Pentagram Society of Evil and Unbidden Thoughts Worshipping The Almighty Prince Of Darkness and Bringer Of Ultimate Destruction, Lord Lucifer, Satan, King Of The Underworld. Lionel, with out his ceremonial robe, now looked miserably pathetic. His pimple bobbed uncertainly at the end of his nose, his watery eyes stared nervously at the world. He had chartered accountant painted on him in bright red paint. Alison, who turned out to be Lionel's wife, was indeed a school mistress, this just seemed to fuel her antipathy for humanity, especially when it came to checking the spelling mistakes of class 5G. Jimmy was thin, spotty and wore thick rimmed glasses, he was also a check out assistant at the local Tesco, but this didn't add to his antipathy for humanity, he just joined up hoping that it would increase his chances of success with women. The fourth robed figure was Colonel Edward Rogers, he was a fat faced man, perching a pipe between his blubbery lips. No one knew why he had joined the cult, maybe just for something to do in the evenings. The final figure was a quiet young woman with auburn hair tied into a long pony tail, she stared dazedly at everything, seeming to find something interesting in everything. Reginald sniffed loudly at the group and their offerings. “Is this it?” he asked petulantly, “When I was inaugurated we had proper utensils.”

“We couldn't find anything else.” Jimmy said sadly, holding up his butter knife.

“I mean, we're meant to have authentic goat skulls to hang around the room!” Reginald exclaimed, “Why can't we just do things properly for once?”

“Reginald!” Alison snapped, peering through her half moon spectacles at the offending culprit, “You are not the chairman of this cult. Lionel is. If he thinks our offerings are suitable, then they are acceptable.”

“But – but -” Reginald wailed, “We're meant to have the innards of a slaughtered boar to drape over the new member, and what have you brought us Colonel?”

“Chicken giblets.”

“Chicken giblets.” Reginald repeated. “I mean, since when have chicken giblets been terrifying?”

“Let's just get on with it.” Alison snapped irritably. “Go on Lionel. Get on with it.”

Lionel nodded weakly, then awkwardly approached Emilia. He cleared his throat loudly, “Are we all present in the sight of the unholy lord of evil and devilry.”

“We are.” the members chorused.

“Then I shall commence. May I have the ceremonial skull blade that will split the veil between this world and the kingdom of hell?”

Jimmy silently handed over the butter knife beneath Reginald's smouldering glare. Lionel held it up above his head with trembling hands, “Let the fires of wrath and gluttony be lit!”

Alison and the young girl quickly lit two candles and held them by Emilia's nose, “Now the participant must be bled!”

“What?” Emilia asked suddenly.

Lionel stumbled, “Erm . . . you have to be bled.” he said, “That is okay? Isn't it?”

“What sort of bleeding are we talking about?”

“Usually just a prick on the finger.” Jimmy explained.

“Oh good.” Emilia held out her finger, Alison jabbed it with a pin with some amount of glee. Lionel wiped some of the blood onto the butter knife and held it up. “Now we must . . .” he paused, reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a much folded piece of paper, he unfolded it, his lips moved as he scanned the list of instructions. “Ah right. Now we must spread the blood across the four corners of hell.” The knife was passed to Colonel Rogers, he spread the blood across an AA map of Basingstoke, Edge Hill, Wolverhampton on sea and Colchester. The knife was then handed back. “Now what?” Lionel muttered glancing back at the list of notes, Reginald rolled his eyes whilst Alison sighed irritably. “Oh yes. Now the participant must meet with the lord of all hell.”

Emilia frowned at the cult members, “How do I -”

Satan then stepped through the door.


It was now twenty seven minutes later and Emilia Crosswood was the latest member of The Pentagram Society of Evil and Unbidden Thoughts Worshipping The Almighty Prince Of Darkness and Bringer Of Ultimate Destruction, Lord Lucifer, Satan, King Of The Underworld. “Well I must say Emilia,” Alison said, passing her a cup of steaming tea, “You handled that admirably!”

Emilia shrugged modestly, “Oh it was nothing.”

“I wet myself when it happened to me.” Jimmy explained hoping this admission would gain sympathy from Emilia, whom he had started to fancy. It didn't. “Well,” she said taking a sip from her tea, “once I saw the paint flaking off, I sort of put two and two.”

“Myrtle really is an excellent stand in for Satan.” Colonel Rogers noted appreciatively.

Myrtle, that was it, the final girl was Myrtle, it was odd how you could so easily forget her name. Even two minutes after being introduced to her, you found yourself wondering who she was. She seemed to fade into the back ground. Emilia stared at her new found allies, Reginald, after Emilia had failed to wet herself in terror at the apparition of a twenty-three year old woman wearing a plaster mask of the devil, had stormed off to his office in a sulk. The remaining members were watching her eagerly, except for Myrtle, who seemed to be staring at the tea cup eagerly. “Well Emilia,” Lionel said excitedly, “What we'd like you to do for us -”

“Yes?” she asked nervously, people always asked difficult things of her when they found out about her ability. Usually it involved scratch cards and lottery numbers. “What we'd like you to do,” Lionel continued, “Is help us save the world.”

The tea cup paused at her lips. “I'm sorry?” she asked.

“Knew she'd take it like this.” Rogers noted, lighting his pipe again.

“You want me to help you . . . save the world?”

“Is that a problem?” Alison asked.

“Well, I thought that you were all waiting for the end of the world?”

The cultists stared at one another in shocked horror, “Good grief no!” Lionel exclaimed, his pimple throbbing, “We're waiting for the coming of the dark one!”

“And he can't come if there ain't a world for him to come to.” the colonel noted, puffing on his pipe.

“And as his most loyal subjects,” Alison said haughtily, “It is our task to make sure that the world is made ready for when he decides to make war with heaven here.”

“So . . . in other words, you're saving the world, so you can prepare it for another destruction?”

“In a nutshell.” Rogers nodded.

Well, Emilia thought, they're not the brightest bunch, not by a long shot. So, I can use them. I can use them to track down this Peter Smith, make them think I'll save the world, then once I'm safe and sound with him and the aliens, I can leave these idiots to the end of the world. Many people would have called Emilia Crosswood selfish, she just called herself sensible. She smiled sweetly, “Of course I'll help you.” she said, “Now, where do we begin?”


Mark stared at the human in wonderment, his head, after just twenty eight minutes and thirty three seconds in her company, had completely stopped nodding. The woman was, intriguing. He had never been so engrossed in something, not since he had discovered the Nodding Dog's newest pamphlet. Could it be, that, he was having . . . feelings for the human?

Currently, the reception of his feelings, was staring critically at the three contained Velociraptors. When she had been informed of the other Earth inhabitants that had been rescued, she had insisted on seeing them. Her first reaction to Damien was the usual shocked silence as the mind took in the enormity of such a being having existence, but then, shockingly, she had told the Tyrannosaurus Rex to buck up his ideas and stop moping around. Both Damien and Mark had watched her in stunned silence as she had stridden away. Now she was attempting to deal withering glares towards the Velociraptors. But, she was feeling something she had never felt before, she felt outsmarted. “You're a lot shorter than I'd imagined.” she said finally.

Philip smiled thinly whilst behind him, Eric filed down his claws, staring hungrily at the human female. “Ah,” said Philip politely, “Another disciple of our good friends Mr Crichton and Mr Spielberg.”

Charles muttered something inaudible under his breath as he placed a bishop down on the chess board angrily. Philip ignored him, “Tell me,” he continued, “how are you finding the experience?”

“It's all right.” Martha said bluntly, “I'm looking forward to when it actually happens.”

Eric looked up puzzled, “You're looking forward to the end of the world?” he asked, astonished.

“Of course!”

The Velociraptors stared at the woman in shock. “What?” she asked.

Mark stared at the three dinosaurs nervously, then tugged at Martha's sleeve even more nervously, “Err, perhaps we'd better go.” he said, “there's much more still to see.”

And so the Collopian led Kelly away, happily wittering on about the great Nodding Dog, whilst she pointedly didn't listen. Eric sighed, “I think I'm in love!” he exclaimed.

“Shut up Eric.” Philip snarled, he turned back to the book case and started scanning the titles.

“What about her?” Charles asked placing himself in check and escaping it in the space of twenty seconds. “No.” Philip said. “She's too clever. We need a dim human.”

“What about that Peter Smith?” Eric suggested placing his file down.

“Perhaps.” Philip mused, drumming the book shelf. “But, there isn't something quite right about that human. Something in my taste buds says he's hiding something.”

“Would you like me to look him up?” Charles asked, check mating himself with a satisfied relish.

“Yes.” Philip said taking out a book of sonnets, “Do some research on our new friend,” he smiled cruelly, “and order dinner, I'm hungry.”

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...