The End of the World As You Know It

by | January 2021 B (Day 2)

I used some of my If/Then non sequiturs



For weeks graffiti seeming to call for a magical change of government had appeared all over Santa Fe. “Rule Titania!” in gold chancery cursive calligraphy on the walls of the Palace of the Governors was the first. Next a wall on Agua Fria street boasted “Kokapelli for rock solid leadership”. “Oberon lives!” was written in a vibrant magenta down the middle of San Francisco Street at the Plaza. The Police Chief and the Mayor were upset, but when “The Great Mother needs you!” was found in Old English script across the front of the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi—and how the hell did anyone get up there to write that above the doors?—well, that was about the last straw.

Heads are gonna roll! The Mayor promised turning red from the exertion of completely losing it. Someone knows who is defacing public and church property in our city with these ridiculous and blasphemous statements and why the hell isn’t it you, Jerome? Jerome, the chief of police looked at his boots and thought about how he would rather be doing a spit shine that to be yelled at by the mayor.  “Hail Titania and Oberon!”, Indeed?

As quickly as city workers scoured the words away and touched up the walls they appeared again—and spread. From Santa Fe the plague of graffiti spread to Espanola and then every small town in northern New Mexico.


It was Easter Sunday—the city was no closer to sniffing out the vandals, but St Francis was full of worshippers.

The Congregation had agreed that today was the day—the end of the world as it had been known. While the mass was moving forward past the readings, past the homily—oh, so slowly as the Monsignor Sanchez was elderly and long-winded—finally on to the beginning of the eucharistic service—the Congregation was preparing for their entrance. Dr Pelli, Thysirus and Prosidy with the Walsh Clan, Khajaana Luna, only Gay Green was not present. She had a special entrance planned. Twelve in number and all wearing their finest attire.

There’s the sweet little bells ringing at the moment of the consecration. This is my Body, This is my blood. All eyes in the church were on the Monsignor as he place the wafer in his mouth and then appeared to be gagging. He took the chalice but before his nose could register the tang of iron he had already taken a large sip. He immediately spit it out and collapsed. The acolytes rushed to catch him as the twelve members of the Congregation marched down the aisle.

Pelli threw off his coat and immediately showed his true face as Kokapelli, Thysirus and Prosidy Walsh waved away their glamour and people gasped when they saw the splendor of King Oberon and Queen Titania. Their children likewise showed their true nature—some of them deciding to even fly above the astonished and horrified church. The statues of the saints began to writhe, keen, and weep blood. Many began to scream and move toward the exits, but Oberon waved his hands and they sat down.


Kokapelli, now wrapped in a cloak to conceal his most notable feature began:

Hear our words and heed them for you have a choice today. We are emissaries of our serene and holy goddess—she is the mother of us all and today she has sent us to say ‘no more!’ No more of your rapaciousness, no more of your wars, no more polluting of her waters and the killing of the other sentients of her body. You are flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood and she demands that now you honor her as your mother. This is judgment day, if you like.


Rose vines erupted through the floor of the basilica and rapidly climbed the pillars and broke into fragrant bloom. Their scent even covered the smell of the incense offered earlier. At that moment, Gay Green appeared hovering on a golden cloud, but to the Catholics she appeared to be Mary the mother of Jesus. A common gasp!

The Virgin Mary! Our Lady! They cried out and many shed tears of joy. Some swooned in rapture. And then Jesus—or maybe a demon some wondered—appeared on another golden cloud.

Mother, he exclaimed and his sacred heart raced and flashed brightly with each beat!

My child, Gay/Mary exclaimed. And embraced him! A gasp went through the crowd.

I have failed Mother! I asked them to do one thing—love one another as they love themselves—and … so few did….Jesus wept.


It was ever always up to them. Many are called but few choose to heed the call. You were an Idea, my Messenger. Even if only a few lived by those words it was still worth it—the story of your life and death, many centuries of great sorrow but also moments of great generosity and beauty, but now it is time for us to finish this work. And with this she ripped off the blue and red garments she was swathed in and immediately all saw that she was very large with child. Lights of blue, green and white revolved around her and her belly which now seemed to be an entire world waiting to be born anew. She was the Great Mother—

Every knee hit the floor! They knew in their DNA who this was even without an announcement.

Jesus ripped his heart from his bleeding chest and laid it gently on her belly and briefly felt the stirring of a new Aeon. He smiled…and then broke into peals of laughter which rattled  around the old basilica which now was mostly a grove of immensely tall trees, lush grass, and rose arbors.

Outside, under a golden sky all of the old gods had returned each on their cloud . They filled the firmament from horizon to horizon. And the ravens that flew from North, South, East and West landed on every roof in Santa Fe and began to prophesy. Many rejoiced for this day and a new clean kinder world, but those that didn’t were allowed to leave—and not to some hell—but to another dimension when Oberon and Titania opened a portal in the center of the Plaza.

Yaki Dah played in the bandstand as a multitude guided by several of the fae folk shrank in size and fell through the portal. Sweet William played “Hwyl Fawr, Ffair Cwm y Cymoedd” on his harp as Khajaana sang “Fair thee well, sweet vales of Wales. Fair thee well, sweet earth we trod.” with the infant queen of the fae asleep in a sling across her breast. And then she changed the lyric—“Fair well majestic mountains and this holy city of the Saint” A bloodless coup and a resurrection of hope had dawned.


  1. Martha Jackson Kaplan

    Rhyannon, This is stunningly beautiful, the call to the old gods. Santa Fe. I’m so glad you followed up on the if/then and wrote this. I’m gushing and I thank you. Send it out into the world, a world that needs it.

  2. Trent

    Rhyannon –

    This hits all the right notes, times very large number~
    Really dig the description with the text and font and “about the last straw” –
    This should be a mini graphic novel!
    Thanks for all your kind comments during the weekend, as well.

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