By Stoney M. Setzer
Philinok knew all about inspiring fear, but feeling it was foreign. It nullified his advantage, which enraged him. Angering him further was the rain that continued to pelt his head like stones.
Use that. Channel the fear and the anger into fighting fury—if you want to survive.
What should have looked like a field had become a lake as the waters rose. His goal was within sight, but so were the obstacles. Countless people were fighting one another to the death. They all had a common goal and were willing to kill anyone who stood in their way. Under normal circumstances, Philinok craved the thrill of battle and feared none of these people individually, but it would be another matter if…
“Look there!” Someone exclaimed. “Philinok! He will kill us all to get there!”
“Not if we can kill him first!” Another man shouted. “We have to stop him to have a chance ourselves!”
Others took up the cry, and within moments, people turned toward him like an oncoming wave. For the moment, they had a common enemy. None of them had any hope of surviving unless he were dead.
Philinok had no qualms about shedding their blood. Charging into the fray, he made short work of his first two would-be attackers. Making good use of his longer limbs, he grabbed them and slammed their heads together with enough force to break their necks. He liked to toy with his opponents before finishing them off, when he felt assured of his own survival. Not the case today.
Unlike his assailants, who had to swim to him instead of run, Philinok’s feet could still touch the ground, thanks to his longer legs. It was a slim advantage that wouldn’t last long. Rain continued to fall, causing the waters to steadily rise. Once he could no longer plant his feet, he would be no better off than anyone else. He had to reach his goal before that happened.
Where is it? He had seen the boat a moment ago, just a stone’s throw away. How could he have lost something so big? Had he lost his bearings in the heat of battle? Looking this way and that, he spotted it again.
The boat was farther away than he remembered. Drifting away… moving! Fresh terror sprung up in his heart. Philinok’s life hung on the next few seconds. If he could not get aboard, than he were as dead as the men he had killed to get this far. Reacting instead of thinking, he started running—only to feel the ground fall away from his feet. The waters were rising quickly, and his odds of survival were dropping. Towering over everyone else was no longer an advantage, but maybe his longer limbs could help him swim faster than they could.
He swam close enough to grab the hull. I don’t have to get inside, just get on top. I can survive there until I figure out what to do next.
Philinok tried to climb up the side of the boat, but he couldn’t get a grip. No! I can’t get this close only to fail now! Desperately, he clawed at the hull, trying to find just one tiny gap between the boards.
Now people were climbing him, grabbing his clothes, and scrambling up his back. Indignation coursed through him. He was here to save himself, not to give someone else a boost! Anger overrode rational thought as he pushed off the hull, forcing himself backwards, away from the boat, taking the climbers with him. They hit the water with a tremendous splash, his weight dragging them all underwater.
“You foolish nephilim!” Said one climber after bursting through the water’s surface. “You’ve just doomed us all, yourself included!”
Philinok snarled as he put a hand on top of the man’s head and shoved him back under the water. What stung was that the man was right. It had been unbelievably stupid of him.
But not as stupid as ignoring the old man. Hadn’t he tried to warn me over and over again? What if I had just listened to him? Would that have made any difference at all? For all those years, he told us all that the rains were coming and that the end was near, how we were all doomed if we didn’t listen. It all seemed so crazy at the time–he seemed crazy. But now…
Philinok tried to swim after the boat, but it was no use. Not even his superior strength was a match for the unyielding force of the turbulent water as the winds kicked up, stirring up massive waves. His arms and legs ached, already depleted from the battle. He tried to touch the bottom with his feet, unsurprised when he could not anymore.
The last thing Philinok saw before he went under was the old man who had built the boat, the one they had all ridiculed for so long. What was his name again? Noah, that was it. He was safely inside his ark, but the memory of his face consumed Philinok’s thoughts as he sank.
And the rain continued to fall…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
great re-telling from the other point of view…
Thank you!
Should have listened and the outcome would have been different. Today how many people are hearing but not listening?
Thank you!
Gave me chills.
Wonderful character development within the constraints you had!
Thank you!
I love Nephilim and Flood stories! I enjoyed seeing this story from the eyes of those who were flooding, and it was especially interesting how they still refused to repent and stop murdering, even when the punishment for their actions was right in front of them. Nice job!
Thank you, I appreciate it!
I like your unique point of view! Noah is mentioned, but he isn’t the main character. Great story!
Thank you! I had wanted to retell the story from a different vantage point and with a twist ending for a long time now.