Sunday, May 31, 2015

Hidden Away

Rain fell from the dark clouds above as he dug into the wet, muddy ground with his shovel.

The rhythmic patter of the drops upon the green tree leaves masked all other sounds, save for the steady sound of his shovel piercing the earth as he laboured to uncover that which he had buried.

Down deep in the ground, beneath an old oak he digs and piles the loose muck in a mound beside the ever growing hole.

He works his way down until he stands waist deep in his freshly dug hole; until his shovel hits against something with a metal clang.

Excitedly, he tosses the shovel aside and scrambles down to uncover the rest of the black soil with his bare hands.

Worming his fingers beneath the sides of the rectangle object, he pulls it strenuously free from its resting place with a sucking pop.

Falling backwards off balance, he leans against the wall of the hole as he cradles the metal box in his arms preciously; scanning all around for any one that might be out in the rain looking on.

Satisfied he is alone, he wipes the mud from the box and runs his hands along its surface; the falling rain cleaning the last of the dirt both from his hands and the box's lid.

Unlatching the lock on the front of the grey box, he hesitates for a moment before gingerly lifting the lid open slightly.

A brilliant light seeps out of the sliver that he cracks open; brilliant and gold, it radiates as he opens the lid wider.

Upon his face, the golden illumination reflects in the dark grey light of the perpetually rainy day. And while he looks down at the contents of the box, a greedy grin slides across his rain-soaked face.

The light grows brighter still as he opens the box fully and gazes upon the Sun, which he has stolen and hidden away in the plain, metal container.

Stolen from the sky, it is the absence of the Sun that has thrown the world into this eternal bleakness.

Tears begin to well in his hazel eyes at the beauty he holds in his hands, the glowing orb pulsating with brightness and warmth; but before the tiny Sun can begin to grow any further in its tiny prison, he clamps the lid down tightly once more.

Again he looks around fervently for any witnesses to his crime and then carefully places the box back down at the bottom of the hole and proceeds to cover it back up with the black, soggy earth.

Smoothing over the surface of the freshly filled in hole, he kneels down to put his hands upon the ground and feels the warmth still radiating up from the box under all that dirt.

He smiles once more to himself with the thought that his treasure will remain, buried and hidden until the next time he comes to glimpse at its magnificence; his own, and no one else's'.

The thought makes him look at the empty sky above and laugh to himself in the cold, never-ending rain.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The Return

He dreamt of his return.

Crowds of his subjects would throng the main roadway through the city cheering his name; clamouring to get a glimpse as he passed by; flower pedals showering down in the thousands from the rooftops.

Triumphantly, he would walk the expansive steps that led up to the ornate gates of the castle; his shimmering castle, which stood as a beacon at the center of the kingdom; his kingdom.

At the apex of the steps stands his love; beautiful and strong she smiles at him as he ascends the final stairs; at long last returning to her warm embrace.

For so long has he been away, journeying to the far reaches of the land, on his quest to free his kingdom from the shadow that had crept across it from deep beneath the Accursed Mountains.

The journey to rid the land of the beast that had haunted it had taken its toll on all his companions; each one falling in their quest, until there had just been he to face the monster in the dark.

Yet, he had endured; had bravely descended into the caves that stretched deep into the earth below the high reaching mountain range.

And there, in the depths of darkness, he had come to confront the hideous creature that had been draining the very life out of his beloved land.

With determination he had struck down with his mighty sword, unflinching, even when he felt a sharp sting of pain in his side; nothing would stop him from smiting his enemy down.

Yet, had he?

He remembered swinging his weapon deftly to deal the grotesque, multi-limbed monster a deadly blow, but now, laying there in the dark, his breathing becoming ragged, details of what had happened seemed hazy.

Perhaps it was the fatigue of the long quest that made his memory so misty. A short rest would bring clarity.

So he had laid down his heavy sword, and rested his head upon the cool stone of the cave floor.

The muffled sounds of scurrying legs trailing off into the cave were ignored as the warmth of sleep came over him, and he closed his eyes to dream once last dream.

He dreamt of his return. 

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Tree Sheppard

Once there was a small boy whose job it was to protect the young tree that grew outside of the village where he lived.

Every morning, his mother would send him off into the early dawn with some food for lunch and his little spear to fend off anything that might come to threaten the tree before it was strong enough to protect itself.

He would make his way sleepily along the pathway out of the tiny village of sturdily built huts out to the plains where the sapling stood alone against the rising sun of the horizon.

Once there, the young boy would sit with his legs crossed beside the green tree and watch vigilantly for any danger that might come across the open plains.

Every evening, after the long hours in the hot sun or drizzling rain, he would head home to share a humble meal with his mother and then fall exhaustedly to sleep on his simple straw mattress bed until the next day when he would begin his routine anew.

From time to time a small animal or two would come along and the boy would dutifully fend them off with his little spear and then proudly tell his mother the tale of how he defended his tree from a desert fox or burrowing badger that night before he drifted off to sleep.

There were other children in the village, but they all either went out to work in the far fields or hunt in the plains to the south with their fathers, so he kept to himself and his task of defending the tree and he was happy with his duty, such as it was.

As the tree grew tall and strong so too did the boy and each day he still went out to stand guard in the growing shade of the tree's lush foliage. Filling his days with practice with his spear and bow and arrow he became a skilled marksmen and an agile fighter, though the biggest animal he had faced was a lone hyena; he occasionally brought home an antelope that had passed near his spot by the tree.

Years passed and the village prospered and grew and the man that the boy had become continued to go out each day to his tree to defend it from any threats that might still come.

There came a night when a fierce storm came rolling across the sky and lightning struck one of the thatched roof huts and caught ablaze, causing the entire village to come out into the night to try and stop the flames from spreading.

While the others brought pails of water from the well to dowse out the fire, the man rush to his tree to make sure he had not been struck as well. However, when the tree came into view on the horizon he knew it was still standing unharmed; its branches now stretching out expansively in a canopied dome that sheltered a large circumference of ground beneath it.

Soon his mother grew old and frail and he would take her out to the tree with him so she could be with him and rest under the tree's full shade. When the time came, she passed away under its boughs and he buried her at the foot of the tree's thick trunk so she could continue to be near him as he stood on watch.

Years went on and the strong young man became old himself, but he came out to the tree each morning still, slowing making his way out as the sun rose in the sky.

All of his life was devoted to making sure the tree was safe from harm and he never once resented his duty, for he had life a peaceful life with the beauty of nature all around him.

When finally his time came, the people of the village buried their old tree Sheppard beside where his mother and father lay, and there they rest today, the ancient tree now doing its duty of standing guard.

Sunday, May 10, 2015


RX-120 fought his programming with all of the might he could muster and stepped out from under the awning into the pouring rain.

Strained whirling noises came from the gears in his metal legs and arms as the servomotors tried to work against him, to turn him back toward shelter.

Yet even as his own robot body fought him, RX-120's heart would not let him retreat, for his mechanical heart beat with only one purpose; with one desire: to be with the one he loved.

And right now, his love had been caught out in the down pour, and nothing would stop him from bringing her back. Not even the basic fundamentals of his primary programming to never cause harm to himself.

And very few things brought harm to a robot more then a deluge of rain.

Sparks flew and steam erupted from his joints and seams as he made his way laboriously through the rain to where NT-53 stood frozen in mid-motion only a few meters away; a few meters that seemed as though they were a few thousand to his grinding gears and cogs.

Yet, he would not relent until he reached her.

With each plodding step he came closer to his robot love; and with each step, his freedom of motion seized further up, both from the moisture flooding his insides and his CPU shutting itself down.

Through his diminishing vision he could see her reaching out to him with her cold, metal mandibles and he reach out to her in kind, straining with all the resolve that was in his malfunctioning heart.

One last jerking step and his tin finger tips made contact with hers, a tiny 'tink' sounding their final contact. Then, he too, rusted still where he stood.

In the morning, after the long stormy night, Duncan stepped out of the front door and into the fresh, spring air and smiled at how lovely the day was. Walking to the car, he looked down to notice the two little toy robots that were out on the walkway, seemingly holding hands as they stood facing each other; their little arms out-stretch to one another.

Tsk-ing to himself, he shook his head. He was going to have to talk to Tim about leaving his toys out in the rain again.

Bending down to scoop them up, he went to the garage door and opened it up to hurriedly place the two rusted robots on his workbench to try and oil after he got back from the grocery store.

In the pitch dark, after the door was closed, the tiniest sound could be heard; the sound of small, rusty metal hands closing in around each other.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

I Awaken

I awaken, as always, in the dimly lit room that smells of dirt and decay. The smells fill my sensitive nostrils with their sweet sickly scent as I take in a deep breath and open my eyes to see the familiar frame of the wooden box in which I slumber.

Above me, the domed stone ceiling of the deepest of chambers in the ancient castle I have called my home for centuries. I can hear the little creatures scurrying and crawling their way around the walls and the howling of the wolves outside, just beginning their nightly hunt.

I feel the eternal hunger within not only my stomach, but also throughout my entire body as my veins cry out for sustenance. It is time I, like my brethren the creatures of the night, begin my nightly hunt.

I dreamt of the sweet innocent beauty I saw last in the small village on the edge of my wood. I dreamt of her soft, porcelain skin of her neck and of sinking my razor sharp teeth into it.

Smiling with the thought of the pleasure to come, I rise out of the ornate coffin to go out into the night, for I, am Dracula.