This is a story I wrote when I was about seven years old if I remember the details correctly this is going to be amazing, if not it’s going to be stoner gibberish.
In 1983, when the island of Pele erupted for what would appear to be the last time, the ashes were scattered so far and so wide that they crossed the oceans from Hawaii to the America’s and Canada.
The power of Pele was spread across the globe with that last eruption, unbeknownst to the people of the world who were not of the Society of Krisya Ohana.
They knew, what I now to know to be true. Pele had spread her power out across the globe, releasing ash like seeds into the air, so that anyone who would inhale the ashes of her death, would be infected with her gifts.
They called it a pandemic, a plague, affecting tens of hundreds of thousands of people at a time. Infecting them with respiratory issues, filling their lungs with dark black ash.
Those that lived were transformed, into something more. Developing psychic gifts that allowed them to alter space and time. Some with telekinesis, others with telepathy.
Other’s still with the ability to fly or breath fire…they come in many shapes, forms and colors, but the one thing that they all have in common is that they are no longer human.
In some worlds they are called Mutants, in others they are called Gods, but here on this earth we call them Madera, the Blessed.
Devon J Hall