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 Posted: Sat Jul 04, 2009 6:33 pm
Is it strange I was so happy when I looked towards the sky and saw those beautiful colors explode into life?
They shone like nothing I’d ever seen before, and I was so proud as I watched them dim the stars.
Is it strange I was so happy…
I remember the moment I died.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2009 4:55 pm
I was so happy as I watched my fireworks go off. I remember smiling before the world around me simply shut off like the old radio we would gather around in the evenings after the show. The serene, endless had been anything but. Imagine, if you can, blinking, only to be in a new life the moment you opened your eyes. That was the end and beginning of it all.
I'm sure it was as much a surprise to the zookeepers as it had been for me. The platypus was even more in shock, I'd imagine, from the explosion that resulted. I remember very little of that time but I'd also imagine that upon seeing their animal was now a child, someone must have taken me home.
As you can see, that someone did not see me fit to keep.
The zookepers passed me amongst their homes for a year or two until it became more profitable to extort my unique features. Unfortunately, their plan overlooked a very blatant fact. Gaia is a diverse land. And in a diverse land as this, there is no more need for a freak show.
There was no further use for me, so I was simply thrown away...
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2009 5:16 pm
Life on the streets is never easy, but it was easier for a child than a toddler. It was a fortunate occurrence I'd grown before my disposal. I'd come to some measure of comfort with my features and had a vague idea of what I was good at.
As it was though, I was still only a child. I roamed the streets for what seemed like forever before I stumbled into a place that had been deserted just as much as I had.
Looking back upon that memory now that I've matured, I marvel at my initial amazement. To many this place is called a dump, as that is in fact what it is, but to a child with no home and no possessions in the entire world, it was a paradise. I found food, clothing, treasure, and then a palace all in an overwhelming daze.
The first night I had grabbed everything I could lay hands to and tucked myself away in the corner of my proclaimed home and fell asleep.
I had no idea then how fortunate I was. That night the rain came. It shattered against the ground in torrential sheets, framed white by the lightning that split the skies. I know this only because of the evidence left in the wake of the terrible storm.
Had I not found that safe haven, I cannot say if I would have survived such a night, in such a large, lonely world.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2009 6:02 pm
My next encounter with people was vastly different from the interaction with the zookeepers.
It was only logical that someone should eventually notice a small child wandering around the dump on its own. From that point it was only logical that they would find my home next. Even more, it was still only logical that someone should see the need to do something about it.
Society abhors an urchin.
Thus it had to, by some stipulation, be decided what was to be done with me. Thankfully, the one who had found me was not of the social type himself. While it had seemed not a soul stirred within the large dump beyond the city, it stood to reason that someone must be managing it for the place to even exist.
His name was Oliver. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with light turquoise eyes that smiled despite his disposition. I think those eyes were what got me to approach him as he stood silhouetted in the doorway of the broken down trailer I’d taken refuge in. I recall that on the day we met, he smelled of white musk and gasoline - a scent that still lingers with me until this very day. Upon finding me, he tugged down the cap he was wearing and kneeled down to get a better look at what he must have thought of as another fool child cavorting around the place their parents had forbade them go. The first thing he said was only this, “Go home, kid.”
The words stung. I remember his expression as he realized I didn’t have a place to “go home” to. Nor did I have the voice to tell him this. The zookeepers had been clever in their detachment. I had not been taught to speak. I only knew how to listen, and to show things that I was unable to say.
I think this must have robbed Oliver of his voice for a few moments. He simply stared at me before, with a soft grunt, he pushed himself up. In the tense silence he looked at the things I had gathered in the corner of the trailer. While it was a paltry collection, the things I had salvaged were in good shape. What wasn’t already usable could be fixed with a little work, if in the right hands. He didn’t look at me for a few minutes before he addressed me again. “Think you can fix that stuff, kid?” I also looked at the things I’d gathered and nodded after really getting a good look at them.
The answer I gave was satisfactory. A thin smile spread over his features before he roughly tussled my hair. “If you can fix it, you can stay. You work for me now, kid, and as long as you keep finding things like that, I’ll make sure you’re brought up.” He must have felt my hopeful young eyes upon him, for the smile faltered and he cleared his throat. “Not to say you’re my kid, but I’ll see that you get fed and a bit of learning. Sound fair?” Crestfallen as I was, I nodded. It was then a deal, and our odd partnership began.
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Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 12:27 pm
The frigid mists had not vacated the corridors of Aeka. His body shuddered, and Farid gently caressed his forearms. A prismatic cascade was barely visible, the energy forming at his bidding to allow heat to awaken into the autumn afternoon. It hardly mattered that the colors of the borealis did not explode, as they normally would, with great gusto into the still-borne air. After all, there was scarcely a crowd to observe the festive display of light, color, and the errant wavering of the boys mind that fueled those incandescent tendrils.
A stiff breeze tasseled his hair as lavender optics cast about the plaza. Only vague silhouettes hovered beyond distinguishable borders, and even those seemed entirely too preoccupied with their own existence to give him much thought. Despite this, a small smile crept onto his features. "The show must go on." He murmured this softly to himself, those slender digits prying themselves away from the rich, violet mesh and cast his hands forth, the mists writhing and bending as the dim, grey afternoon burst to life, and so to was his return announced to the silent masses.
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 9:42 am
Is it strange that a man with no attachment be loved so much by a child?
I remember the first time I spoke. It happened a few weeks after our initial meeting. Until that point, the only real interaction I found in Oliver were short words, although I cannot recall if ever they were harsh. The man would come every other day, coming to pick up my constructed wares and in in return exchange those meager things for food and company. I came to anticipate those quiet visits and felt as distinct sense of loneliness as I would silently watch his retreat. We never conversed during those times, until that day.
The sky had been overcast, warm drizzle skirting the earth in brief, passing glances. The two of us sat upon the top stair of the trailer entrance, and simply stared out across the dimmed grounds. For once, Oliver was actually speaking at length, telling me about an encounter earlier that day with a girl he’d found. He said she’d reminded him of me, and even had animal like qualities, though distinctly different. Somehow she’d wandered away from her parent, only to be reunited by my own guardian, who now held a small reward that he seemed entirely unsure of what to do with.
As he rambled on to himself in quiet tones, I mulled over the story in my head. Oliver had said that when he’d brought her to her guardian, she cried out ‘Papa, papa!’ out of joy to be with him. Timidly, I turned my gaze up at Oliver, who hadn’t much noticed my stare, and found a desire to tell him of my thoughts. The pressure welled in my throat as I struggled to convey my message. I must have made some noise, for after a few seconds, Oliver stopped his ramblings and looked down at me, a slender brow raised in confusion. “What’s up, kid? You ok?” A pitiful sort of whine escaped from my throat as I opened my bill, the keratin substance clacking together slightly as I tried to hone that sound. “Aaaaa…aup…” Oliver’s eyes widened slightly and he made as though he were about to get up and leave before something bad happened. I persisted though, reaching out and grabbing the large, callused hand in mine. This time, the braying sort of wine came out smoother, pleading in the strangest sound I’d ever heard myself make, though it was the one I wanted. “Papa?”
Oliver groaned softly, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to knit his brow for a moment. I repeated the sound again, realizing it to be a word. I had spoken! Unable to stop, I cried it out again and again until I was abruptly silenced by two strong fingers holding my bill shut with surprising gentleness. Then he spoke, “I’m not your Papa, kid…I thought you got that. It’s Oliver. Ol-I-ver. Ok?”
Needless to say, though I will anyway, I was crestfallen. Tears welled up in my eyes as he released my beak and gazed softly upon me. I felt alone again, turning my face away, not wanting him to see the large drops that rolled down my bill. He reached around to grab me again, turning my features back and angling them to look up at him. A wane smile, I think it had to be of unspoken apology, played upon his features as he stroked back my dark tresses. “I’m not your papa…but I can be your Oliver, how bout it? And you can be my kid.”
I quieted at this, and let him wipe away the tears as I curled up against him. We both looked out at the drizzle again, and just as those errant droplets that clung to my skin, I felt a slow warmth swell in my small chest. I would be his kid - and he’d be my Oliver.
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