The Lullaby Of Our Lord
The Lullaby Of Our Lord
By Ekona Del Rey Monroe
Chapter One: The Spark
The revival fire burned brighter than any earthly flame.
Bill Thomason stood on a makeshift wooden platform in the fields of Northampton, Massachusetts.
Thousands had gathered under the open sky, farmers in homespun clothing, merchants in finer coats, women with babies in their arms, children sitting on the grass, even a few enslaved people standing at the edges of the crowd.
The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, sweat, damp earth, and anticipation.
"Sinners in the hands of an angry God!"
Thomason thundered, his voice carrying across the field like a trumpet.
"You are held over the pit of hell by a slender thread, and the flames of divine wrath are ready to singe it!"
The crowd moaned and cried out.
Some fell to their knees. Women wept openly. Men clutched their hats and prayed aloud. The emotional intensity was palpable, a collective outpouring of guilt, fear, and desperate hope for salvation.
In the middle of the crowd stood Shay Hayes, a young mother whose husband had died the previous winter. She held her infant son close to her chest, rocking him gently as the sermon washed over her.
The words felt like they were meant for her alone.
That night, as the revival continued under torchlight, Shay heard it for the first time.
Four slow notes.
A — C — B — A.
They drifted through the hymns like a hidden melody beneath the singing. She thought it was part of the music at first. But the notes stayed with her long after the singing stopped. They felt like a mother calling her child home.
The next morning, her infant son was gone from his cradle.
No footprints. No sign of struggle. Only the faint echo of the four notes lingering in the empty room.
Shay searched the fields for days. She asked every neighbor. She prayed until her knees bled. But the child was never found.
And the lullaby continued.
It spread through the revival meetings like a secret. People began humming it during sermons. Some said it was the voice of the Holy Spirit.
Others said it was something older. Something that had been waiting for the right moment to be heard.
The Mother had arrived.
She appeared first as a veiled figure at the edge of the crowds. Tall. Gaunt. A sheer, transparent veil covered her face, blood slowly running down the fabric from her eyes and mouth.
Her arms were unnaturally long, ending in claws made of wood chips. Her hair was styled in a modest tête de mouton, curled and powdered, but tangled and stained. She held an old 1611 King James Bible in her hands.
When she played the four notes on a simple bone flute, entire sections of the crowd would walk toward her, believing they were answering God's call.
The Great Awakening had become her harvest.
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Chapter Two: The Revival
The meetings grew larger.
Tens of thousands gathered in fields and clearings across the colonies. Preachers like Robert White, and Phillip Washington traveled from town to town, their voices carrying the four notes disguised as hymns.
The Faiths appeared first.
They wore all-black cloaks like grim reapers. They stood on platforms and delivered sermons that sounded holy but carried hidden messages only the truly broken could hear.
Their voices were deep and commanding, twisting KJV verses into something darker.
"Suffer the little children to come unto me," one Faith preached, his voice echoing across the field. "For such is the kingdom of heaven."
The crowd wept and shouted "Amen!"
But those who followed the call too closely never returned.
Then the Gelists came.
They preached the need for a transformative "born again" experience. "You must be born again!" they cried. "Surrender your heart completely to the Lord!"
In reality, surrendering to the American Lullaby turned you into a creature from any era.
Once transformed, you were stuck helping the Mother forever, a new Faith or Gelist in a different time.
Shay attended every meeting.
She had lost her son. She had nothing left but the four notes that played in her dreams.
She stood in the crowds, singing along, hoping the song would bring her child back.
One night, during a massive revival under a full moon, the ground opened.
A Pit yawned beneath the congregation. Hundreds disappeared into the earth while the crowd sang louder, believing they were being taken to heaven.
The Mother stood on the stage, veiled and bloody, playing the bone flute.
The Great Awakening had become her greatest feast.
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Chapter Three: The Night of the Names
The "Night of the Names" was a secret gathering.
In the deep woods, away from the main revivals, a small group of grieving mothers and fathers met by firelight.
They shared names. Stories. Memories of children who had vanished during the meetings.
Eleanor sat among them, clutching a small piece of cloth that had belonged to her son.
"My son was called Samuel," one mother whispered.
"My daughter was called Abigail," another said.
They spoke the names like prayers. Like talismans against forgetting.
But the faiths found them anyway.
The voices began as whispers in the trees. Then they grew louder. Hours of preaching, begging, and desperate calls for mothers and lost loved ones.
The faiths used the echoes of those who had already been taken.
The gelists appeared smiling.
The Night of the Names became a massacre.
Shay barely escaped, carrying the names of the lost in her heart.
The lullaby had learned how to hunt in the dark.
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Chapter Four: The Harvest
The revivals reached their peak.
Tens of thousands gathered in a massive field in Connecticut. The preaching was electric. People fell to the ground, speaking in tongues, believing they were filled with the Holy Spirit.
The Mother walked among them, veiled and bloody, holding the twisted KJV Bible.
The Faiths and Gelists moved through the crowd, promising salvation.
Then the ground opened.
Pits yawned beneath the congregation. Hundreds disappeared while the crowd sang louder, believing they were ascending to heaven.
Shay stood at the edge of one Pit.
She saw her son at the bottom, smiling, reaching for her.
The pull was overwhelming.
But as she stepped forward, she heard the living behind her. Their screams. Their fear. Their desperate prayers.
She stopped.
She turned away from the vision and began singing the four notes as a warning.
The revival ended in chaos.
The lullaby had claimed its share.
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Chapter Five: The River Calls
The final revival was held by the river.
The Mother stood on a wooden platform, veiled and bloody, playing the bone flute.
Shay stood in the crowd, the four notes ringing in her ears.
She saw her son in the river, calling for her.
The pull was the strongest it had ever been.
But she remembered the Night of the Names. She remembered the living who still needed her.
She turned away from the river and sang the four notes as a warning.
The ground opened.
The river became a gateway to the Hidden Cavern.
The Mother offered "true salvation."
Shay chose living.
The revival ended in chaos.
The lullaby continued.
It always has
The Great Awakening ended with thousands "saved," but the true cost was hidden.
The American Lullaby had claimed its share.
In Great Britain, the lullaby was even larger. The movement under the Mother is estimated to have claimed up to a quarter of England's population of six million, feeding the Pit and creating new creatures.
The lullaby did not bring revival.
It brought transformation.
The End
