Cry-baby goddess

Cry-baby goddess

A Story by Caleb Pratt

About a "chosen" girl trying to save America from its self destruction and its deception. Very messy story, as far as structure (pleas forgive me ;)



Caleb Pratt


Cry-baby Goddess

4th revision


I have the eye of the tiger, a mind of a lioness, and more

than one  gun. I walk through  the open woods, feeling the

warmth of the sun, as it peers behind the barren trees. I close my

eyes, and  see a glimpse of a carcass . The smell came to

me; my eyes opened to see the carcass off to the right.

        I kneel down beside it  and pull out a jack knife.

I get the legs spread out and  slit the stomach,the slits

hissing with heat. As blood drools out, like the world’s mouth.

It’s stomach twitches and gurgles.

        Fall leaves crunch under my boots, as I view the sunset,

peering through   barren branches. Warmth spreads over me. I close

my eyes.. I open and see

to the left, and there the deer is off to the right.

        I have been lost in the spiritual realm. I can't get help

from anybody, the emotions of life  tear me apart.. I

want suicide, but which would be hell in the spiritual realm. Although, I have already went through hell. .

        It was Asmodeus, a principality spirit, who rules in the

realm of lust and evil desire. He has befallen so many of my people

worldwide. . I haven't had the slightest hope at times;

I’m at the end of my rope. Asmodeus  puts me in this curse.


Waves of windy breeze cause me to grip my arms. The grass in the fields blow in the north east. s I can feel the excruciating pressure of my bones calcium crackle , my flesh peels away when the curses moments arise. I strip in my man-made wooden cabin and get down on my knees, praying to my God and Savior Yeshua .

        I walk along the wilderness, trekking towards the Atlantic. What must be done is to scout and make way for the order of chaos to come. As things are getting worse and worse in the spiritual realm.  I make a quick route to the American country and prepare for the Apocalyptic  outbreak.

    Sharla... Sharla , can you hear me?

    Holy Spirit is talking.

    Yes, yes I can hear you? Whats up?

    There is trouble in the outer regions ahead. It’s gonna be a cold day in the frost bite if you’re not careful walking out over the  iceberg’s over the Atlantic ocean.

    My heart leaps. I keep calm. I hold my gun steady, which was

made out of ectoplasm. I could create stuff from  nothingness, or, should I say, the Holy Spirit. Holy Spirit could create from nothingness, for He is my Comforter.

    “Sharla...” his Voice said.

    “He” started to materialize in a blue aura, His presence static like TV fuzz around my eyes.

    A blue Aura plays out in front of me.

    “H-Holy Spirit, I'm here, ready to serve. Is there any problem with direction. Will the demons spawn a negative energy-based weather storm?”

    “No Sharla, it is me. I will protect you. It’s gonna be okay. Here, take my lead.”

    It reaches  out its hands  at from a  distance. Its hands  and arms  are  a mass of blue fire. The fire licked and intensified against the heat. I put my hand  out and went along.

        I felt the quarrel  between me and the  Spirit from the inside. But eh, I've screwed up  to many times  to disobey the Spirit. It wouldn't be the first anyone has  disobeyed.


        As I keep moving along, figures dark figures   surround me. Men in uniform. Look like they are ready to fire. I fall back on my knees  in the physical, coughing  hacking  due to the howling  wind and blinding snow. They c**k their  guns

    “Ready at will.”

    Bullets rage, as I move from soldier to soldier. I take them out with a quick knife jab, or a enough suker punches to the throat. I whip  around  wack one, my spiritual reflexes at their peak. I get down, and hug and  puff,and realize  I'm sweating.

        Not good, my swea will turn into cold. I use levitate a guy with the Spirit, and reel him in. I put his clothes on. He was already deceased in the first place. Must be the demon’s  army  wants me put down, and they think outside the box too... well, sometimes.

    They were startled at first because  my supernatural beauty. There heart were all bleeding out onto  the ice. I look around  the circled  perimeter  deceasedunconscious  men. There eyes were either opened or closed.

        I trek along, ready for when the demon enemies  rise up. I know I have way to much to handle. I've been  going through hell on Earth. In order form to save America, and Earth, I need to survive hell in order to free the people of their own identity.

        I can live an eternal youth, and yet defeat death, and go into the afterlife. I'm more than immortal, or semi-immortal. I can visit my past, or my future, or anything the solidity and 3D structure  of time.





        My knees break against  the floor, my flesh releases

Exhausting pain  from my  knees. My flesh , in unison , starts bleed of

like sludge. Like a butterfly out out  of its cooon, my body emerges  from

my spirit, the heat and smell of the old  self  starts to

marinate  with the new self. It smells of menthe , misting with the

blood, like hot chocolate.  Calcium in my bones start to break



        This is a bondage, a “ripping of the flesh” as we call it.

It is where, people cannot see me , for I’am like a ghost, surrounded by an existence which doesn’t know where to find me.. My spirit's senses are vast, compared

to the fleshy, limited senses I had in the physical;  the spirit realm jacks each thought, emotion, and want, the extreme.

        My body breaks through  the cocoon  and slides out, busting

the ledge of a wooden counter r,crumbling  against the floor.. Steam  rises in the midst of a pool of

new “wine.” My blood. I taste it, and close my eyes, as it bleeds its flavors with a mixture of red wine.It sounds like its washing  down a creek, swishing and pooling

in every direction.

        Someone from outside  was  walking about,and the door creaked open. An angel appeared, its wings sprawled  out. He walks in with a smile. The door kept opened,and walked towards me and knelt down.

    “What’s your name, Daughter of Yeshua?”


    I was in an intense  state between my flesh curdled ,as my spirit yearned to transition.

    “Okay Sharala, listen to me as we walk it through. You’re  gonna be bombarded in the spiritual realm. On my mark, you make a run for it.”

    “A-alright. Wh-what should I do... or, or... go?”

    “That’s up to me, depending  where the Holy

Spirit leads.”


    He stands  behind  me.. I see the dark angels above the sky, outside the doorway. They pass through, a the rooftop becomes transcendent.

        Everything becomes a wet, enclosed cabin.. I  get up and creak open the door.with a path  of snow,snaking up through a trail of  woods. I walk out , climbing up the path, snow crunching with rhythm. The snow drops melt  against  my tongue.

    Its an apocalypse

    It’s the angel.


        I was brought  up as a child and defender, to protect what

was stolen . Our message as disciples. Our need to crush the works of

the devil.

        I can see the outer ruins of city scapes, the wind chilling  my face. I carry the rifle in a sling. I watched the muzzle, to make sure of the muzzle being pointed towards the sky.. I came across a  barbed wire fence, resting  the gun on  the other side before I do so.

        My curses aura is leeching out with black  streams of light. Its fighting  with my blue aura  colored  spirit. I feel like I’m losing sight of God.... What is God...? What is... “nothingness...?”

        I feel my soul being wared against by evil forces, pushing for my salvation to be lost... but my will holds on as my mind is fighting  the illusion of  “falling away.”








        I must  to be free from this body, but the truth is... I

still don't want  to leave it. I haven’t  come to a commitment of

Getting  out of this body. I haven’t  the slightest clue to getting my

Physical  body  back. I quoted the Word of Truth Scriptures to myself.

        I start to meditate... asking Holy Spirit to reveal  how to

use ectoplasm to conjure  and  materialize  a new body. I listen I have it….

        Why don't you...just... believe....?

        Um... okay, I guess I'll….

        It’s what I heard. . I put out my hands   and start to take  it by faith.  Blue emitting  mist   slithered around  hands;   I start to create, forming    my body.

        I lay beside my body, and star to allow my meditation practices  to go into  sync with it...

        I feel as if I may fall into a state of nothingness. I want to work out my       salvation  but I know I'm not there yet. Though my Salvation produces good work, I don't want vices to draw my  my soul towards the gates of hell . If it causes me to walk away from my Salvation, then my spirit is on its way to  Eternal Damnation .

        I  lay beside  new naked body... and “possessed” it.


    Corona  comes up along in a sports bra and nike yoga pants.

    “Sharla, you need to keep in check--”

    My emotions were allowing  dark entities  to pierce  the air. I had to keep my emotional status at the right pace, but the fear itself was stacking the odds against  me. I knelt  on one knee. Grabbed my side, slit from the gashes by the Dark Horde Assassin.

    “Man... uh, Lord?”

    I look to the sky.

    “I thought gods didn't exist.”

    “Sharla, come on--”

    She grabbed my arm, as the locust sprang  from  the Horde Assassin all directions.

    “What is God,” I say.

    “I don't know. New concept being made from the forces around  us.”




        I wake up in my... “crib?” I look to  the right side of the

room, the left is a window above me. . I look below at my

body. I'm a “child.” In a diaper; I see blonde pigtails at either side of my hair. r. My belly gurgles. I look up to see my... mom , I'm

guessing. He waves a doll I for of my face. I tickles my navel as I

giggle. She kept cooing me, smiling and tickling my chin and massaging my little feet.

        Rap music plays in the background, a sweet sunshine  tune.. It transformed  from Florida sunshine tunes, to sassy gelato noise with Floridian undertones. . As my mom  walks  towards the doorway, I get up and

punce in the crib. He turns back and puts up his index finger ,


        When leaves, I do a front flip and land on the carpet . Not

something any baby does in there recent years. I spring along and see a

bat lying against  wall. I take a walk around the corner.

This is what happens when a eighteen year old female soul in a toddler’s  body. I run out the  door at full

sprint , seeing  the bright sky and the house  across from me. I turned  to





        Me  and Corona  run across  America. I walk a city filled with dead souls. Souls which we cannot see. Everywhere  I look, I everyone is hiding somewhere, in the cocoons  and sacks piled up in basements. The destruction of aliens have  descended  on America.

        I walk up a stairway in an  apartment complex,  creak a bedroom door open,  to see clothes and everything else disfigured.. I step   inside, with red highlights  pooling off   the walls,extracting  from a fluorescent light bulb. . I open the closet,   a t saggy  bag  wallowing  out. I pull it through the door.

        I pull a knife out. Guttural  sounds  splurge  with  vinegar stench sm coming  from  the misty fumes out of the slit. I cover my  nose, keeping  the knife  moving . I slice at the end of the bottom; it splits wide open. .

        Outcomes tentacles . It pulls itself out onto the ground,  , like a baby trying  to walk for the first time. It clasps to the stair  railing. It grips  my face,  starts  sucking it, polluting my looks. .

        I screamed  with horror, trying  to grasp  free. I spliced  the tentacles .. The alien starts to work itself  down the steep, carpeted stairs .  All the tentacles lay on the ground, rotting out the nerves to utter stillness.  

        It got my DNA.

                        THE END

© 2016 Caleb Pratt

Author's Note

Caleb Pratt
I need some beta readers for this story, so if anyone whats to volunteer, drop me a line.

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Added on December 22, 2016
Last Updated on December 22, 2016


Caleb Pratt
Caleb Pratt

Sherman, NY

I'm a writerstoryteller from Sherman, New York. Doing whatever I can to improve my writingdrawing skills for the glory of God. Bringing revival to our area! more..