Story #6

 #6

The journey is long, but following the track marks of the crystal’s vehicle is easy.  No rain will wash these away in a decade. The crystal is just too heavy. It pushes down on the machine, a force beyond gravity, like a magnet, and the vessel advances slowly. The boy, now tired, muddy and afraid, dares not enter the embrace of light given by the men and the machine. He remains at a distance, watching. Seeing as the adults share food and drinks. He is afraid of being caught, but also of losing sight of his mission. Some hours ago he yelled to his father. He screamed and then ran back home, took a pound of jerky and embarked upon the trail. “Dad, the animal came to us.” He had said. “Do not be superstitious.” The man responded. “I am not. But…” “Son, the beast is not alive. None of them are.” They are remnants of our Sun. Look to your family, before you look to yourself. Is what you want more precious than what we need?” But the boy heeded no advice, and now walks behind a rumbling vessel of a time long past, its engine roaring to the skies with a technology too old and too loud. At least, he thinks, he will see the city for the first time and see the big Saeia Ships and buildings and roads. He looks into his pocket and takes a very small, broken crystal. The thing glows shy and dim within his hands. In his mind he sees bigger more luscious versions of the crystal powering entire streets. Flying vessels, impossible constructions all fed into life by crystals like the one he holds. He embraces these ideas and with renewed energy looks at the moving vessel and the Beast that became his ticket to the city. 

Story #5

#5

The empty hole in the ground now fills with rainwater as it pours from a peaceful cloud above. The boy stares at the men loading the colossal thing unto an old, rusted, bulky and roaring construction vehicle. Its engine is loud enough to force everyone into a screaming frenzy. There is no way to organize the people. Men pull unto strings but have no sense of unity or direction. The thing tips over and the vehicle is swung to a side as men fly into the air, pulled by the massive force of the crystal as it plummets down and hits the black soil with apparent malice. A man is crushed and it takes a moment to stop the machine’s engine and for the people to gather around and realise the horrible news they are to tell the village folk just that evening. Embraced and comforted on the idea of sacrifice they persist, lift the thing and push it unto the vehicle. Some men and women take the body of the dead man aside and try to accomplish the impossible. A man is dead and the thing has been lifted, a defeat and a victory in a single day. Amongst them the kid looks at both and feels no triumph. As he stares at the dead man he can hear the engine of the roaring vehicle move farther away, and with it an encased being he deems too important to simply abandon.

Story #4

#4

“Dad, isn’t this a part of our sun?” Speaks the child softly. “Dad?” He speaks again, this time louder. “Dad! I think you should not sell it.” He pulls on his dad’s hand and lets go. He runs towards the crystal, his dad follows closely behind. “Watch it son, you are going to get hurt.” The man says as he pulls onto his kid. “Dad, isn’t this a Spirit? A part of god?” His dad kneels beside him. “Yes son, it is. But remember what the Scian teach about religion and faith. “That we should never just believe.” Spoke the child softly. “Do you remember the tenets of the Cerian?” The boy looks down. “Thought without memory is instinct. Thought without memory is obedience.” The boy looks up at his dad with curved eyes and shaking lips. “Son, what they really mean is that we must not follow blindly, that things are simply fragments of nature, and like the earth and grass and animals we use to survive, we will use this, a part of our sun, to survive as well.” The man said smiling at the kid. “But isn’t it a bad thing to do?” The man stands, this time anger cannot hide behind his frown. “You mean a sin? You are sounding like a Kelian! Only religions believe in sin. Sin is their product and they sell it cheap so everyone will purchase their false cures. Do you really believe the Great Spirit or nature itself can even consider such a thing? Listen, son, I love you, but you better get away from whoever is leading you. You are about to fall down the deep end.” As the man stands the boy, angry as well, pulls on his vest. “ I am not talking about sin. I just think he came here for a reason. He came to us for help. Look!” The boy points at the beast within the crystal. There is great pain in his clutched hands. “Son, we need this. Try to understand.” The boy stares at his dad, this time pleading with tear-filled eyes.

Story #3

#3

Not a week and a crowd swells around the crystal. A line of whispering people draws back to the river near the road, all trade’s men, all hoping to join axe and stone and sliver the thing into sellable pieces. Some disagree, but business is necessary, especially for a damned village like theirs. In front of it all stands the man, owner and master of the event holding a young boy’s hand. His son. He whispers with ones he holds dear as they all try to reach an agreement on how to keep the thing a secret, how to capitalize, or even how to get rid of it for the sake of their people. “It is vital that we inform the Scian.” Says one who is unable to look at the beast within the rock. He is too afraid. “The Scian may help…” whispers another. “…but they will not pay. We will lose it and gain nothing.” Another steps up and grabs the man by the shoulder. “We must sell it to the city’s museum, they pay very well. I heard from a friend’s cousin, a similar thing happened there. He became the richest man on the village. The party lasted a whole month. Drinks all around. He said there were drunk men walking the streets for weeks.” The man looks to the thing as the busy trade’s men who have pledged silence attempt to break pieces of its crystallised roots. “Yes, we must sell it whole…” He says. “…this chipping away of the crystal has to stop, by how do we take it there?” “My brother has a Digger, big thing. It can carry a house, I’ve seen it.” Whispers another, eyes open trying to catch the attention of the man that runs the show.  “That thing is rusted and old.” Says the first to speak with worry in his voice. “What if we break it? What if that creature is set lose?” “it is a creature of God, not an enemy of us.” Says another. 

“Your brother’s digger, bring it. It’ll do for us.” The man has spoken loudly and they all simply turn to look at the thing as they acknowledge his decision. “We will have new cattle brought in exchange, no money. I’m serious…” He insists. “…it corrupts the soul. We need food and things to sell.” The men agree as they put their hands on the man’s shoulders and back, a sign of affection and agreement. They sense his wisdom and follow his lead. Amongst them the small boy, not older than 10, stares from amongst the men to the silent crystal and the face of the dormant creature within. He holds his dad’s hand firmly.

Story #2

#2

There is no doubt in his heart. The rumours strike true. Within the now silent crystal rests the mute and deaf splinter of God’s consciousness, a Kalei. Eyes closed, arms raised in fear, the beast seems to have suffered his imprisonment. Unprepared for a journey across a space as vast as an unremembered dream, he has now arrived to his final destination and the crystal now reaps into the ground, gem roots slowly harbouring the stone and clutching to the ground like a tree. And as this happens the man stands, absorbed, within the sea of possibilities, dreams and fears that now race through his mind as he gazes upon the trapped creature. “This is mine?” He mumbles trying to hear himself above the roaring rain. He thinks of the riches others have attained, the precious resource harvested, the crystal sold to city dwellers as a relic of the Great Spirit’s home. Perhaps a museum will purchase it, maybe even the land itself will be taken and him given a reward. Was he chosen? Will he become important? will his family survive this drought that has so recently ended? Will she, her wife, survive? Dreams and hopes drive his heart into an insane rhythm. It is almost painfully screaming in bliss. He shouts and runs and jumps amongst the rain and the mud and the towering crystal that stands as prison to the beast. And suddenly he stops. He looks at it and all that now screams is the howling rain. Fangs as white as pearls, horns like blades to the heavens, hands as deadly as sorrow, the beast is a weapon. Have I been blessed, or cursed.” He wonders as he approaches the thing and touches the crystal.