World Untitled Part 2


A small bird stood on him. The bird’s silver chest puffed outward. The rest of the plumage bore the neutral green color of dark grass. The tips of its wings and its tail feathers worked like mirrors. They reflected the light in all sorts of directions. He looked over to it and its color shifted to a paler green as it hopped backward on his shoulder. He noticed now that it stood on three legs. It gave a cock eyed stare back at him. The eyes were two clear orbs. The orbs looked almost too large to fit within its eye sockets; they rolled around loosely, spinning in various directions. He could not make out a pupil, just foggy orbs serving as eyes. He reached out; the bird lifted its head to watch his hand. He glided his hand across the top of the birds head. Now it turned a cool blue that ebbed like an ocean wave to the edges of the feathers. He smiled. The bird then began to beat its wings rapidly, they blurred, and the mirror tips caused the light to glitter about frantically. It fluttered and maintained itself directly in front of his face. The crystal eyes suddenly ceased their rolling. He peered into what seemed endless. He saw within the eyes blood floating in a puddle, trees torn aside in jagged lack of harmony, and claws, strange claws. The bird gave a sharp chirp and flew off. He scratched his head, “What should I call that?” He watched it glint off in the sun. Something about those eyes sowed worry in his heart; it embedded a doubt deep within him. He had something to fear. Just what it was remained a mystery, dark in nature, bloating the imagination with sordid thoughts of misfortune.

The steps of the temple were cut from stone, chipped on the edges. The inside of the temple bore just two rooms. The flooring used to be waxed heavily. In some places it still shined. Little shelves contained various urns, all of separate colors found on those leaves. Of course, the urns were dirty and smudged. One whole shelf must have slanted over earlier, dumping the urns it carried onto the floor. The few that fell on the floor carried the smoky remains of a fire. He wandered over to the others, while peering back over his shoulder. He popped the top off of a few of them; they all seemed to carry the remains of a fire. The temptation to put his hand in one and search it started to overtake him, but for some odd reason he felt such an action would be no less than desecration. He restrained his hand.

In a corner someone attached a large gold disk to a frame with some strings. The gold disk curved outwards towards him. He strolled over, and bent slightly at the waist to examine it. The reflections of his face distorted in the large golden pan. He noticed a large finely cut stick with a fuzzy covering on the top. The covering was white and fluffy, but stained a little with dust. He shook it out, and the dust swarmed him. He batted at it with his hands until it cleared the air. He looked at the fuzzy covering and the golden disk. At first he used the fluffy section to dust the gold disk. Then he looked slowly to his left, then to his right. He pulled his hand back slightly and struck the disk lightly with his palm. A small echo flung through the halls. He shook a little with eagerness. Looking around as if to scout for another that enjoyed this, He brought up his hand again and struck it harder. The noise now reverberated through the temple. He grabbed the fuzzy stick, and struck the gold disk with it. The disk now shouted even louder, but with strange and echoing sound. He struck it again, even harder and it swung back and forth. He beat the stick against it and the cacophonous sounds bounced about around him, making even his head shake.

He clasped his hands together briefly in excitement, then repeatedly struck it to create continuous shattering waves of noise. He slowed then quickened starting to generate connections between the clashes, listening to the lingering effects of the sound’s residue. He returned the fuzzy stick to its spot and moved onward. At the far end of the room, a pedestal held this strange looking shrine. Little squiggles formed together sharply, curving out into patterns. Some of the squiggles resembled other squiggles. The shrine contained many of these scrolls with these squiggles. He wanted to know what all this meant, but shrugged it off. There would be no way to learn it now. The shrine looked nice though. Someone coated it in a deep red layer od paint. A symbol made of gold stood at the top of the shrine, the bottom half of the gold symbol being a simple crescent shape, the top half being a completed circle with large rectangles jutting out at organized intervals. It looked a little bit like a sun, contained in a dish.

As the boy started to make his exit, he heard a clicking noise. A bug skittered across the floor. It scurried up to him. He knelt down to its level. Its antennae shifted up and down. He brought his hand outward and felt its back. It was smooth, ridged, and hard as armor. “You are friendly for being small. Not a lot of your type likes to walk with me.” He said with a small sad smile. The bug rose to about his knee level. “Maybe it’s because you are large for your kind.” he theorized, though to no one in particular.

The bug skittered off a short distance. It turned quickly to look back at the boy. He followed it, and it moved forward as soon as he neared it. He chased after it until it ran off behind the shrine. It stood perfectly still, gazing at him until he got very close. Its antennae smoothed back, and it chattered rapidly. “What?” the boy asked. The creature pushed up against wood paneling behind the shrine, and opened a small concealed door. The door swung shut behind him. The boy pushed the door open himself and crawled along the ground. The tunnel was not long, and ended as soon as he pushed himself through another wood panel. The light spread into the tunnel as he creaked open the exit. He dusted of some light brown chunks of dry dirt as he stood up. There were no windows, it was purely illuminated by four lanterns, like those outside. One giant lantern sat in the middle, but it was empty, save for a small pool of clear water at the bottom that stirred with small concentric circles. The flooring in this room had not deteriorated in the slightest. The wood panels sparkled as if they were recently waxed and maintained. The walls were marked everywhere with little punctured holes. Scattered across the room were smaller creatures like the one he saw earlier. They all lay on their backs, their stomachs exposed. They chirped in a long, extended, excruciatingly slow fashion. Their voices could not muster loud noises like the one he met earlier. They all varied in size, but the one he saw had a finer red exoskeleton, these ones were coated in a splotchy grey color. He counted fifteen of them. He traced the holes upward with his eyes until he stared at the ceiling. That crimson shelled creature that led him here clung to the ceiling tightly to the ceiling, pinpoint feet lodged in those tiny holes.

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2 thoughts on “World Untitled Part 2

    1. Thanks! I am glad you enjoyed it.
      Sorry for not responding earlier, you were in my spam folder but since your post doesn’t really advertise anything, I don’t think it is spam.

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