Space Flora | Space Flora: Origins | The Great Space Flora Sphynx

Space Flora: Origins | The Great Space Flora Sphynx

He stood in rags, sandaled feet rooted into the cobblestone street. The path was showing its age, a thin pedestrian artery built in the middle ages, modernized into a shortcut between new buildings housing tech startups. A neverending stretch of people moved through it, their business casual attire adorning souls set to Do Not Disturb. But he would disturb them, alright. For the Good News had come.

He preached to the unwilling swarm of ears, booming convictions pelting the wayward flock as they rushed past him on the way to work, trying their best to ignore another prophet with another life altering sermon. Madness coiled in his irises, his bones felt like they were rattling under his flesh. But passionate conviction aside, he knew he was coherent. The prophet-in-rags brushed his greying beard with his hand, then stood up on his soapbox.

“The Flowerbringer knows how you have suffered! The Sphynx gives, and gives without expectation! We are blessed by its mercy, unfit to stand in the Bringer’s generous light! But we can! We can BE worthy! Hear me when I say, we can be worthy! You there, young man!”

The preacher pointed at the curious listener that had itched in his peripheral vision. He was barely 20, dressed in oversized cargo pants and neon green skate shoes. Under his left arm was a skateboard, neatly tucked against his body, as the cobblestone street had proved too rough for smooth cruising.

“Young man, have you heard the Good News? From the Flowerbringer?” The preacher asked. The young man shrugged, a grin doused in a cocktail of social anxiety and embarrassment splashed across his face.

“I don’t think I have, sir.” The young man replied.

“The Great Sphynx, bringer of the Space Flora, is coming! But the Space Cat is generous, young man! It is generous and good, merciful and beautiful! It has shown us the way to be worthy!”

“Space cat?” The grin kept spreading. The young man wasn’t trying to be rude, the preacher knew that. He understood there were hurdles to jump. Common sense breaking stones in the cobblestone road to true clarity. The young man meant no harm.

“Yes! Above! The Great Sphynx Cat! Do you not wonder at night, where do the Space Flora come from? Why have we been blessed? And what is our responsibility to them?” The preacher rattled his answer through a growing croak in his voice.

“I think we all wonder about that, sir.”

“Out there, a great God exists, young man! The Great Sphynx Cat brought these blessings to us! But they are a blessing with responsibility! As man tended the Garden of Earth, we must now tend the Star Garden!”

“You’re saying a giant space cat did this?”

“Well it couldn’t have been a dog! They are loyal, they listen to us! Only a cat is strong willed enough to bring gifts to us, the Undeserving! The Guardians in Bloom!”

The young man shook his head. Then, his eyes met the preacher’s. He broke a small silence, as the preacher fished for hope. Maybe he’d gotten through.

“Thanks for telling me, sir, but uhh... Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look kinda hungry, and...” the young man reached in his bag, and pulled out a brown paper bag. The smell of salami wafted seductively through the top.

“I’m just gonna throw this away otherwise, man. It’s yours if you want it. Don’t mean anything bad by it.”

The preacher accepted the bag with grace in his eyes, and a rumble in his stomach. The young man said his goodbyes and fused into the people-worm wiggling down the street, a chimera of businesspeople, students, and seniors alike. Maybe humanity was undeserving of the Space Sphynx’s grace, the preacher thought... but that young man was alright. With a great taste in sandwich toppings.

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