Odd World

Like a red giant hiding behind a celestial storm, a saffron hue shined from beneath a star embossed bottlecap. Muffled bangs resonated from that crushing prison; a pair of miniature boots rapping against its veneered interior. Silvery clouds awoke at the base of the bottlecap as its sharp edge scraped the mangled fabric. Without anyone to hear its perpetual pounding, this trapped creature was left to struggle alone.

It was as I turned my attention toward something else, that a white inspection glove grasped the edge of that aluminum shell. Overtaken by intrigue, I stayed and watched a while. Pushing with increased vigor, maybe born from fear, I could hear the creature huff and puff from this painstaking act of survival. Just as it seemed the creature was giving up, perhaps out of luck, he managed to kick himself free.

As that rich air smothered the layered red marble it sat up and began to dry heave. Like the turning over of an engine, that dry heaving produced smoke that lamented the already tortured ground. All the creature’s glossy, red eyes could distinguish was that bottlecap, spinning in place against the smog filled vale. Getting onto his feet, the little marble shot smoke rings form his mouth. He continued to play as he fumbled around aimlessly, sweeping his boots across the ground to avoid any unexpected obstacles.

When the bottlecap fell, spinning its last spin, sparks shot forth from the eyes and mouth of that odd little sphere. It was thrown back into the ground, the force of those sparks like an igniting rocket engine. As those sparks fell to the damp fabric they fizzled out; the strands of silky, black smoke the last remnant of the sparks intrepid journey. Several times I could hear the muffled screams of that tormented creature behind the shrill hiss of those jettisoning sparks. It was both painful and uncomfortable to witness.

Deep within the little marble, like approaching a distant river, a fierce rumble grew ever louder. Not wanting to spew more sparks, or out of pure instinct, the little marble held his breath. The longer that little ball held his breathe the hotter he grew. Smoke threatened to force his mouth and eyes open. I couldn't help but laugh at the odd transformation of this creature.

Changing from a dull vermillion to a glowing cinnabar, the little marble was overtaken by a series of implosions.

Oh, what a shame! I thought to myself as that black smoke cleared.

I believed I had witnessed the birth of a new creature, like the birth of Billiam. But, from his non-luminous area to his dark zone, it was, most definitely, a candleflame soldier.

There was something strikingly different about this candleflame soldier's attitude. Unlike the other flaming marauders, whom had ransacked all of Impar in a manner of minutes, he seemed guided by an unknown duty. Finding a deep maroon stone jutting from the ground, that candleflame soldier scaled its pocketed sides, from its peak all of Impar was visible. Standing vigilantly on that ominous stone jutting out of the charred landscape, he scanned the dark horizon meticulously.

Perhaps he was looking for the broken sky stone? Rufous and Regis, for longer than six centuries, had tried endlessly to tear that amber from its home in the sky.

Content that he had found his target, the candleflame soldier pulled those inspection gloves tight. After checking the laces on his boots, he made his way down the spire being careful not to lose his footing on the aphanitic rock. Turning back to see that star embossed bottlecap that had nearly become his grave, he sighed in relief. From that relief, came satisfaction as he began his well-paced job toward his quarry, away from the destruction wrought by his apocalyptic pals.

Feeling lucky, the man, Kenneth, picked up the hefty, silver scissors; dragging them closer to Mel and the stone meteor, he sighed, thankful that the scissors didn't fall from this meteor.

Kenneth attempted multiple times to stand the bottom blade onto the soggy, blackened ground. Before the odd world changed, the trio would have had that meteor home in under three minutes. Those gripping and grabbing fabric hands jutted forth assailing the menacing tip on the bottom blade. It was several minutes later, right before the man felt as if he would collapse, that he put the full weight of his bottom upon the bare handle.

Inhaling the excitement as he felt the sharp blade plunge in the ground, like cutting the perfect piece of wrapping paper. Kenneth frantically sliced through the ground, opening a hole just large enough for the meteor.

A hand grabbed Kenneth by his calf yanking at leather laces of his riding boots, he fell backward looking into the sparkling chasm. Those scissors having been retched from his grip fell toward the world below Impar. Like a bioluminescent ocean pounding a rocky beach, that world swirled around its center which seemed to grow eternally. Those scissors having plunged into that sea of stars disintegrated into billions of atomic particles, the light from that expended energy threatened to illuminate Impar once again.

As Mel struggled to push the awkward meteor, he respectfully informed Kenneth that the hands were attempting to unfurl his hard world. Getting up, onto his knees, Kenneth wiped sweat from his brow. More sweat dripped into his eyes, blinking away the mild irritant he felt for the hands. One after the other Kenneth pried the fingers loose, he held the pinching and scratching arms to the ground with his protected legs. Feeling a sharp snap of air slap against his pants, he imagined that silver needle rising into the air ready to sew its first stitch.

Sir Eugene Maxwell beat his wings with an urgency only matched by a hummingbird as he rose from his perch. His haunting shriek alone caused a few pairs of hands to retreat into the very fabric of Impar. It was as that needle was barreling toward the surface, to begin its restoration cycle, that the Great potoo latched on. Using his leg muscles and wings in tandem Sir Eugene Maxwell vied to give Mel and Kenneth a few more seconds.

Mel's sooty hoof prints created a nice contrasting piece of art on the surface of Impar, as they dotted the tan line etched into the ground by that massive meteor. Managing one last shove the well-groomed Highland bull hurled the meteor toward the hole, feeling the light gush of wind from that boulder Kenneth dived from its path. As Mel watched the meteor crush the arms around the hole, his head danced in excitement and his eyes lit up. Falling into that interdimensional hole, the composition of that universe engulfed the meteor in a stream of ice and gas.

Sir Eugene Maxwell eased his grip on the needle allowing it to continue its much-needed sewing project. A moment of silent relief fell upon the three heroes, as the needle stitched together the fabric of Impar.

"Hey!" deeply inhaling each breath, his tone still managed to stay as curious as ever, "You said something, to the ferret, that I didn't understand."

Mel nodded emphatically, a typical human gesture; his pure depth of voice soothed Kenneth's aches, "We're in the time and space of something that has to happen, but hasn't. We call it Encara, up until now, everyone forgot it was real. I wasn't around when the Harpy Eagle placed the amber over the obsidian, neither was Sir Eugene Maxwell."

From his peripheral Mel spotted that weaponless candleflame soldier jogging toward the southeast, toward the edge of the world. Before Sir Eugene Maxwell flew back to Mel's horn, that candleflame soldier appeared in the hawkish gaze of the Great potoo. With fervent interest Sir Eugene Maxwell gained altitude until he was a stealth jet against the blue-black sky, he watched as the soldier jogged farther away from where the cultures of Impar once thrived.

A fulgurite shard ricocheted off a ruined wall on the outside of ancient structure, the first of many completed after that amber lit Impar for the first time. The pitter patter of rodent paws smacking against the sullen fabric stopped at the base of the now ruined building. There once stood a statue of an echidna at the top of the monument, it was carved from a yellowish green mineral. Fragments of that once proud guardian littered the area; their iridescent hue hone a radioactive green under the blue-black light of Encara. Rufous stooped down, he grabbed a shard of that radioactive stone; its glow was hypnotic to the white banded ferret.

An itch on his head snapped Rufous back to reality, he tossed the shard back to the ground; looking up at the ruined statue the ferret reminisced about its construction. He had watched it every day, the strange human toiling away endlessly to shape the mineral in the visage of his mentor, the echidna. Showing little remorse the ferret snickered at his own memory of the event, "Membaw dat? Cawving away faw so lawn to just die. Whawt a putz!"

Though he couldn't hear Regis, Rufous knew by the itching from his scalp that his little friend was laughing. Having spotted that fulgurite shard Rufous bounded to it, like a dog playing fetch. Kicking that tubular stone with his foot it sailed through the air, it glanced off a strange triangular prism jutting from the ground. Intrigued by the strange object Rufous pranced toward it, rubbing his little paws together as if he found some priceless treasure. As he approached the object, and from his peripheral, he spotted that candleflame soldier jogging toward the ruined area, only he recognized this particular harbinger of the apocalypse.

Primis.

Rufous mumbled that name before reciting a poem, a poem he heard perhaps eons ago from his Lord Ignis; his voice monotonous, his accent absent.

Spilt glass

Throwing fast

Twisted wood, bent mast

A ball, strings attached

A sliver, a divider

An arch undone, to make a sun

A sword in ground

A sliver, a divider

To depths unmet, I sink this net

Sacred bound, that trident down

To that arch undone, which made that sun

Finishing that poem Rufous's heart raced, his breathing heavier than ever; he knew deep down that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for Lord Ignis after all. With a renewed vengeance, that crafty little ferret raced toward that candleflame soldier hollering his name, "Primis!"