Theme:Dinosaurs!
Initial thoughts: This was harder than I originally thought. It sort of ended up like a "journey to the center of the earth" sort of deal, but then, we're talking about dinos here, so, yeah....It was fun, anyway!!!
Adventures
never begin in your back yard. At least,
that’s what I was always taught. It was
a safe place, where you might make up fantastical tales and play pretend, but
those sorts of thing weren’t real. Those were the fantasies of small boys, and
while entertaining, they were not real adventures. They don’t prepare you for the real
world. But nothing could have prepared
me for that warm August morning when the construction crew that was digging
next door began to shout in alarm.
I was
eating my corn flakes on the back porch, watching the hum of the site, when the
excavator they were using hit something hard, causing me to look up. I assumed it was just another rock, like the
many they already found. Usually, they
hit it a few times, it cracked open, and they would move it. That was fairly normal, and they started
hitting the rock with the bucket of the big machine. Then, I felt it. The ground shook. It felt like an earthquake only much, much closer.
There
was shouting from the workers, and I looked again at them. I saw the excavator slowly start to sink into
the ground, and then vanish altogether!
The ground opened up, and several of the men began to fall in as
well. I heard their screams as they went
in. The rest of the men scrambled away
from the spot, trying to reach safe ground.
I still
don’t know why, but I stood up and ran towards the edge of this pit. No one stopped me. No one thought about it. I probably should not have done, but I was
drawn. I had to know, to see the
carnage, to witness this thing. There
was something about it I just had to explore.
This wasn’t one of my inventions or fantasies. This was real, and it was in my
backyard. I could be the hero I always
dreamed I could be. This was my chance!
I was
only a few feet from where I could look down into the pit when I heard it. It was awful.
A screeching noise that started low at first, and then went higher until
it was painful – too painful. I clenched
my hands over my ears to try and block it out, and lost my balance. I couldn’t tell if it was angry, hurt, or
otherwise, I just knew that the sound alone knocked me to the ground. Then, the humming began. I thought it was a hum, anyway. At first, it was just a low hum. It got louder and louder. A plume of black smoke came up from the pit,
and I regained my footing.
The men
around began screaming as they realized it wasn’t smoke, but a swarm of insects
that were very big, and very angry. The
men who were still close enough to look into the crater began running away
madly, and the swarm began to chase them.
Still, I moved closer.
The
screeching came again, and this time, it was louder. I steadied myself, expecting the worst, my
hands over my ears once again. Then I
felt a deep, rhythmic thumping that shook the ground. It wasn’t music. It was irregular and heavy. And it was getting closer. I approached the edge of the chasm, and
looked down, expecting to see the ground, and maybe a small pit that used to be
the insect home.
There
was no bottom to the pit. At least,
there was none that I could see. It was
bright. The soil was gone, and in its
place, an entire world lay out beneath me.
Trees taller than any I’d ever dreamed, covered in rich leafy
vegetation, surrounded by tall grasses, greeted me. The entire place breathed one word:
life. Then, coming up the ramp of soil
and debris that fell into the cavern, I saw the source of the screeching.
I knew
what this was. I’d spent many an
afternoon thinking about the different names of each and every creature, as
small children tend to do. The body was
perfect, every muscle and sinew that could be seen was envisioned correctly in
my books. The eyes were perfect,
too. Everything was just as I’d imagined
it, but for the skin. The skin was
scaled like my pictures, but the color was wrong. There was an iridescent color to it, that
reflected the sun and changed colors right before your eyes. It looked more like the skin of a fish from
this distance.
That
distance was getting smaller by the second, as the great beast came stomping
heavily in my direction. It saw some of
the men, their bodies broken, lying among the rubble and debris. It ate one of them, and stomped on another. Then, it looked ahead. There I was, staring down the pit into the
eyes of the first Tyrannosaur I would ever see.
I ran. I ran hard and fast back
to the house.
This was not one of my fantasies. Dinosaurs were real, and my heroism was not.Theme: Forgiveness
Initial thoughts: turning this into something fictitious is a challenge. It depends a lot on how you want to look at forgiveness, and what you think about it, both in terms of giving and receiving. How do I think about it? What does it really mean to me? How does one earn it, and who decides when it has been earned, culturally speaking?? I think I know where I can take this, now.
Teldarin
scowled into the rainy midmorning gloom.
This was the part of his job he hated most. It wasn’t the rain, it wasn’t the idea of
justice, it was the ritual itself. It
didn’t make sense to him. He was a
Priest of the Ninth Order, and he was beginning to grow impatient with his own
progress through the ranks. He felt
stuck. The system was stuck, and he was
part of that system. He wanted to change
it. He couldn’t do that in the Ninth
Order, and they had him stuck here for what felt like an eternity. He’d seen others come and go in the Ninth,
some who just couldn’t handle it, and some who moved on to the coveted Tenth
Order. He envied them.
It was
time. He gave the signal to the guards,
and the drumming started. It was a
cadence used more often in hangings than in this ritual, but it was one of the
few ways in which he could make at least some changes to the ritual. He hoped someone would understand what he was
doing. The condemned had so few options,
and every year, the Brotherhood offered them the Forgiveness Rite. It was initiated as a way to cure the
overcrowded prisons, and over the years, it became what it was today: a ritual
killing of prisoners condemned to death, followed by a festival. It made Teldarin sick to think of it.
He decided
long ago that it wasn’t the act of killing itself that made him ill, it was the
way in which it was done publicly, and the celebration afterwards. It was a mercy to end the lives of the
condemned, after all, not a forgiveness.
That was the other place Teldarin could make a difference. He said the ritual words out loud, of course,
but always, quietly, he would ask each individual if they would accept his
mercy. Most said yes, in which case, he
would look them directly in the eye, pray over them, and end their life quickly
and painlessly. It was the best he could
do. No one knew about it. No one expected it. He knew that if word got out of it, he would
be sent back to the Eighth Order.
The
doors to the square opened, and even in the rain, the throng of people waiting
for the short parade to the raised dais in the center of the plaza was
amazing. The procession began, with
Teldarin leading the way, his twin swords strapped to his back. One by one, the prisoners were trotted out
and made to stand before him.
“Thelnick Porvel,” he began, his voice booming over the people. “You stand convicted of the crime of murder,
and you have the choice now, to live out your days as a prisoner, never knowing
the light of day, or of accepting Forgiveness.
Choose.”
The
prisoners could barely talk, much less above the din of the crowd and the
rain. Teldarin moved close to the man in
order to hear him.
“Forgive me,” said Porvel, simply.
“You
have chosen to be forgiven!”
The
crowd cheered, its bloodlust now at a fever pitch.
Teldarin looked at the man intensely, his steely grey eyes piercing,
looking deep into Porvel. “Will you
accept my mercy?” he asked quietly.
The man
was shocked. This was not supposed to be
a part of the ritual. He found himself
nodding.
Teldarin’s gaze softened, and he held his hands out over the kneeling
man. “I send off to eternal slumber,
now, my brother. Know that I forgive
you, and your name shall not be forgotten.
Be at peace, Thelnick.”
Teldarin reached back up over his shoulder. Finding the handle of his blades, he drew
first one, then the other. He crossed
them in front of Porvel’s throat, and whispered, “Go to thy rest, my brother.” Pulling his arms apart quickly, the blades
did their job and Porvel’s head dropped to the ground.
The
crowd cheered.
Teldarin wanted to vomit.
The
remainder of the condemned went similarly, until the last one. When asked if he would receive mercy, the
man, Jor Gaelen, looked calmly at Teldarin and said, “I do not deserve
forgiveness or mercy.”
Teldarin’s blow was swift, sure, and brutal. Jor Gaelen received no mercy, and bled out on
the dais, choking on his own fluids. The
crowd still cheered, more forcefully than before.
Thanks for reading,
Me
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