RE: Child's Play [Text] [Reboot]
03-10-2018, 07:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-16-2018, 04:20 AM by caliginovsCvre.)
Quote:>Go back inside the house. A rock dome is big enough for you to fit, but how will you know it won't leak from the rain?
>Bring the rocks with you.
Quote:>Get home, a very large wave may be coming
I nestle inside my dome of rocks and listen as the storm approaches. A little bit of rain never bothered anyone, but I’m more worried about the tide coming in. As the sun sets, the moon rises. The gargantuan orb hangs over the horizon, close enough that I can see every mountain and crater clearly. It looks a lot like my own world, but much drier. I’d like to pay it a visit sometime. But as pretty as it is, the moon always brings the water. It starts with a gentle lapping of wavelets against the edges of my rock dome, but quickly grows more aggressive. Water starts seeping through the cracks between the rocks, rapidly filling the inside of my hiding place. I don’t mind, at first. The water is pleasantly cool after the air’s heavy heat. But then the waves start impacting with force, cracking against the walls with such force that I have to push back against them to prevent them from breaking. After a few minutes of this, I admit defeat. There’s no way my dome would stand if I leave it here at the mercy of the ocean. So instead, still inside it, I slowly lift the entire thing off the ground.
The dome starts to rise up into the air, each rock still in the same configuration. I carefully raise it above the surface of the water, then high enough to clear the cliffs that mark the boundary of my cove. I’m not quite sure what to do with the dome, but I decide to take it over next to some of my other projects for now. I skim over the surface of the earth, excited to see how my other creations are doing. I have a sculpture made of granite, raised and carved from the bedrock into a towering whorl of curves and spirals. I’ve added in veins of iron and copper, minerals extracted from an underground mining expedition that took me all the way across the island. And, just a few days ago, I dug out a pit to collect rainwater, and covered it over with a structure made of clay to shade it from the sun. I wanted to see how fresh water was different than salt water, especially over a long time, but every other pond I’d seen would eventually evaporate or drain into the ocean.
The rock dome isn’t very original by these standards, but I want to keep it anyway. As I get closer, carrying the rocks begins to feel more natural. I have a good memory, and the longer I carry the dome the more I’m aware of every rock’s location within the greater whole. I experiment with loosening the ties that bind them together, letting the rocks move farther away and then closer again. The dome breaks down into a whirl of pebbles, still suspended in the air. I let them fall to the ground like meteors, then grab them back up again and re-form the dome just as it was before. Even if the dome breaks, I have it memorized now. Nothing can ever be lost as long as I can remember how it was before.
This thought is reassuring, but it doesn’t fully erase the hurt of what I see as I fly over my little compound. I stop short in the air, every rock in my dome vibrating angrily at the sight beneath me. The sculpture is broken, shattered into a million tiny glittering pieces. Some parts are erased down to the atomic level, while others have been left relatively whole as if to taunt me with the laziness of this casual destruction. My clay shelter, which had hardened in the sun so beautifully, is similarly ruined. At least the destroyer has overlooked my little pond of water, now open to the sky and reflecting moonlight off its still surface.
There’s only one other person on this Mother-forsaken island who could have done this, but the culprit is nowhere to be found. What should I do now? I could look for Brother and give him a piece of my mind, or get started trying to rebuild, or, or…. I sink to the ground with my dome in tow, weighed down by sadness and indecision.