Brent Morris first heard of the phenomenon that would later be referred to as Heavenly Fireflies by a consortium of international scientists through a cable TV show of ill reputation dedicated to accounts of the unknown and supernatural realms in whatever form they presented themselves.

In the nineteenth episode of the second season, a brazen Australian woman whose name he didn’t recall other than it, unfortunately, rhymed with the word cunt, described an encounter with a swarm of multicolored small insects presumably of extraterrestrial origin who talked to her inside her mind. The strange animals had a soothing and almost narcoleptic effect on her thoughts, rendering her extremely malleable to outside influence even if only for a short period. She equated the experience as akin to either being on drugs or in a state closer to religious rapture, whatever stroke the audience’s fancy the most.

There were many logical reasons to dismiss her account as pure folly, with the very nature of the interview itself being at the top of the list. It was conducted not on location but in a chaotic studio where an array of unsettling images bombarding the background created a terrible chromatic dissonance that could not be undone. Brent hated every second and hoped he would never have to see anything like that again.

Two months after the first account aired, dozens of others were confirmed all over the world. The visits by the fireflies didn’t seem to have any discernible reasoning behind them and they remained short affairs and not that dangerous despite the subtle changes in the subject’s state of mind. All side effects experienced from such encounters dissipated in a matter of minutes and didn’t cause any long-lasting unseen damage. The nature of these bizarre animals remained a mystery, though. What were they? What did they want and how had they come to be? Whoever answered these questions was sure to forever be remembered in the annals of History.

As the number of reported interactions continued escalating in every continent, some tales began to differ from the majority. At least a dozen individuals swore under oath that, after touching them, the swarm had merged into a single organic entity roughly their size whose presence triggered a rippling effect in the world. The more elaborate contacts resulted in tears in the fabric of reality big enough for anyone or anything to pass through. While it was never proven that had happened, suspicion grew among the top world leaders that the bugs were but an army of scouts in a prelude to a mass invasion. The distrust slowly spread among the general populace with warnings that no one had the right to ignore. All swarm sightings had to be reported to the proper authorities and people would do well to avoid being close to one if possible.

Brent had no trouble following the guidelines although his gut told him the entire situation was being misread somehow. He had his own theories yet dared not share them for fear of being portrayed as a madman, a traitor to the human race, or both. He continued to live his life in the quietest and most unassuming way imaginable and left everyone else to deal with the situation in their own way. A real explanation would be found, one that didn’t exacerbate paranoia and the natural frailties of humankind.

It was on the day he turned thirty that everything changed for him. Brent woke up in his bedroom ten minutes past midnight to a buzzing sound coming from the basement. As he descended the worn-out stairs leading to it, he saw the fireflies for real for the first time. Hundreds if not thousands of iridescent flying creatures swirled around the flickering lamp as if awaiting his arrival. There were no openings anywhere in the house that they could have used to gain access inside. In the absence of a definitive answer, he had to assume the insects had materialized there out of thin air.

“What really are you?” he thought, approaching the living cloud at a slow yet resolute pace. The mysterious entities moved away from the source of artificial light and descended upon him just like multiple others had described. Their drowsy effect on his psyche was immediate with countless whispers beckoning at the very heart of his human essence.

“Brent...” they said.

“You know my name...” he shook his head from side to side ever so slightly. “Oh, why am I surprised? Of course, you do because that’s what everybody says, but is this really you trying to communicate with me or just a projection of my subconscious created to facilitate this meeting? What are you called? Why are you visiting me now?”

“Brent...” the choir of muffled voices repeated while the lights enveloped his body. They sparkled in all known colors to men and a few others beyond the normal spectrum. As small as each individual creature was, he could easily make out the outline of their hard exoskeleton, the six jointed legs, and compound eyes. The three-tiered body division of head, thorax, and abdomen present in normal earthly fireflies was also present but the more he inspected them with his curious gaze the less he believed in earthly origin.

“You really are from another world, aren’t you?” he raised his right hand to allow them to brush through his fingers. “But not scouts, not conquerors. You have a different purpose... I’m not sure how I know this, but I just do. I have more questions than answers, though. Tell me, please. Tell me everything I need to know.”

“Brent...” the mass of bioluminescent insects ran past his face, arms, and legs. Their touch was like a balm after a warm bath or a weary day on the phone trying to sell useless insurance policies people would eventually have a hard time paying. For a moment, he was swept out of his mortal limitations and floated in a sphere of pure nothingness before being pulled back down, and crashing against himself, forgotten memories, and visions of possible futures that had not become permanent yet. The drowsiness became stronger, conjuring a tidal wave of overwhelming bliss that had him squirm and convulse on the cold stone floor, eyes rolling over, hints of yellow foam dripping between his teeth.

The fireflies swirled back up and intertwined with one another to create an effigy of himself that lasted only a few seconds before imploding in a ball of eerie silence. Brent looked at where the creatures had been and saw the tears in the world forming from the top of the basement’s suspended ceiling right to the spot where his writhing body lay. The rip had the same color variations emanating from it, existing in a million different realities at the same time. The gateway expanded until it became like a door of pure energy and two impossible apparitions stepped through.

They were tall, humanoid female lookalikes with no facial hair or any other. Their bodies were sinuously enticing, a festival of curves oozing raw, uncontained divinity. They appeared to be wearing no clothes and their round breasts lacked both areolas and nipples. Their hands and legs were illuminated by another type of phosphorescent animal, a trail of ant-like creatures drawing mesmerizing streaks on their pale skins. The fireflies that had come to greet him, now gathered on their exposed backs, conjoined to give off the impression of sprouting wings.

“Angels?” Brent mumbled, muscles aching as he tried to pull himself back together.

The two womanlike visitors were almost identical, the features of one’s visage virtually indistinguishable from the other. Their lidless, golden eyes were not entirely pleasant to look at, and yet exerted the same fascination as their exploratory emissaries but increased to magnitudes beyond what a human brain could naturally process without going into overdrive. They pierced his senses in quiet contemplation and then words of power flowed from their white lips.

“Rise, Brent. Behold Creation in all its glory.”

Another swarm of fireflies descended onto him, latching onto his shoulders, and pulling him up to assume the role of a crucified puppet at the complete mercy of the superior beings before him. The magnetism of both angelic entities combined completely took hold of every waking thought of this, their booming commands reverberating inside his deliquescing soul like the trumpets that brought down the walls of Jericho. Jaw hanging loose, he heard his name being called once again.

“Brent Morris, you have been chosen,” the two supernatural visitors said in unison.

“Chosen for what?”

“Be quiet, mortal! There will be time for questions later but for now, the herald must sound. Listen to the call of Paradise.”

Brent had no other choice but to agree, the electrifying dominance of the humanoid envoys subduing his tongue and throat.

“Brent Morris,” they began anew. “You have been chosen. Every odd millennium according to your feeble conception of Time, the All-Powerful Goddess of Earth and Elsewhere selects a handful of her subjects to entertain Her in Her divine palace located in the intersection between worlds. This is the highest honor one as lowly as you will ever get in your all-too-brief existence. Against such a purposeful calling there is no resistance. We, as Her immortal servants, have been tasked to deliver you to the palace so that Her Will washes over your mind and body. If you have questions, you may ask them now and we will answer them accordingly within the limits your comprehension can muster. Have you anything to say to us?”

“There is a Goddess?” he babbled, arms stretched to the side, legs suspended in the air.

“Yes and no. She-Who-Oversees-All is not a Goddess, for that word implies the existence of others like Her. She is Goddess, One and Only, Creator of this universe, and all the others your eyes can’t see. She has breathed Life into you, and She will take it away when She pleases, for She is also Death, the magnificent entropy to which everything is headed. Do you have any more questions?”

“Yes,” Brent struggled to breathe. “Why me? Why have I been chosen for this?”

“You were scanned, appraised, and considered suitable to fill one of the vacant roles in this cycle. Not all the Goddess’s creations end up living up to Her golden standards for entertainment and communion. We have reached out to many of your kind already, and all of them failed in some regard. Those who have come closest to selection have seen the rift, but only you so far have been deemed worthy of meeting Her lieutenants, and therefore take the next step of seeing Her in all Her everlasting splendor. You should be happy, Brent. That’s an order.”

“Happiness is but a state of mind and right now I’m not sure mine is working as it should. How can I be sure this is real and not just a figment of an uncontrolled imagination?”

The two angels momentarily glanced at one another, a quizzical aura flashing in her resplendent orbs. Then they dutifully replied,

“No matter how powerful your imagination, no person could ever conceive half of what we are. Do not mistake the pleasure given to you with an affirmation of anything akin to divinity. Humanity ranks low on the scale of all things created. You are and will always be beneath us, just like we are beneath Her. That is the way of the immutable law She has written.”

“Right...” Brent’s drooping eyes twitched as the weight of their words hit him like massive boulders rolling down a steep mountain. “Why are you so fucking uptight?”

“That is a frivolous question that deserves no answer. We are only commanded to reply to questions about what awaits you beyond the portal. If you have any more, this is the time to present them so we can return to Her as quickly as possible.”

“In that case, I do have one more question,” Brent nodded, every vein in his upper and lower limbs popping out under the strain of the invisible force keeping him under control. “What will happen to me once this so-called communion is established? Will I still have my old life back afterward or is this a one-way ticket into The Great Unknown?”

“From the moment you were chosen, your time in this blue rock has been considered forfeit. To meet Goddess is to sacrifice everything for Her. You will serve. You will entertain and then you’ll be absorbed back into Her, consumed like grains of sand washed away by the strength of the ocean. Every molecule that defines what you are this very instant is a product of Her omnipotence. The only desirable outcome is to return to the Origin.”

“In plain old English, that means I’m as good as dead. I was chosen to be killed like a sacrificial lamb. The All-Powerful Goddess isn’t so different from our old beliefs, it seems.”

“We can forgive such blasphemous slander on account of your feeble human nature,” the angels said, “but believing a lie will not change your fate. Heaven has called you for a reason. You will succumb to bliss. Do it now.”

“No. I’m not going with you. Take your fireflies with you and close the gate. I’m not willing to meet my maker yet, whoever she is.”

“We said this call can’t be denied, and what we said is an extension of Her will. You will obey Goddess by obeying us for now. Touch the floor once again and march.”

The two celestial representatives joined hands and the insects restraining him returned Gravity to its normal state. Brent landed on his feet, but no body part other than his mouth belonged to him now. He took one step forward, and then another, rhythmically conditioned to stride towards the luminous rift that devoured all independent thoughts.

“I don’t want to do this!” he tried to scream. “Let me go! Get out of my head!”

“You want what She wants and nothing more. Goddess is in you. Goddess dominates you. Goddess will always be everything to you. Submit to Goddess. Yearn for Her. March and obey!” the angels ordered.

The entire basement lit up with the thunderous command as Brent’s synaptic network was permanently put to sleep. He continued to move forward, drawn to the light, what lay beyond it, and the inevitability of his last moments on planet Earth.

“Praised be Goddess and all who go to see Her. Praised be the Supreme One!” the angels sang, flapping their bug-infused wings.

Brent’s body disappeared into the supernatural door connecting the multiversal threads of reality to its sole Beginning and End. What arrived at Her Palace was no longer a man but a re-packaged version of one, a mindless husk filled only with servitude and the desire to worship and please, for only those imbued with such crushing needs make the best appetizers throughout the ages.

Across the seven continents of the world, the sightings of heavenly fireflies continue. The cycle isn’t over yet.