The One Hundred

"Why are we here? What do you want with us?"

The Creator peered curiously into the glass globe infront of her, a benevolent presence in an otherwise bewildering situation. It was her world and she was its ruler. Like a mad professor in a lab., she could observe and analyse and alter and remove if she liked as she was the controller of the Globe and everything that lay therein.

They had designated Merlin to speak. He held himself with grace and control, originally having their leader as the Adipose Mater. However, whilst firm, some of the rounder members found her sinister and whilst Merlin created wariness, he also had charisma and a wily charm and so, a leader had been born.

The Creator gazed at her world fondly and speculated as to why the occupants of the Globe were so dissatisfied. She had given them life, the greatest gift and in exchange, she expected them to stay with her. They could be viewed, of course, by others, and hopefully, appreciated by those who surveyed the Globe but ultimately, they were hers. She owned them by right and outright.

To want anything else was nonsense.

The Creator shook her head in rueful disbelief at Merlin and said:

"I want you to entertain and through your existence, delight," she explained.

The Mad Monk shouted, "We should just assassinate her!" and the zombie agreed with "Let me at her brain! I'll absorb it and we'll all be free!"

Elvis punched the air and proposed a song but he was prodded in his jumpsuit by a hirsute humanoid with a spear who could not talk and to whom singing was even more threatening.

The Rubbish Collector resurrected himself and suggested that they use his crampons to scale the Globe to freedom but, with limited resources and no hole to aim for, this was soon discounted.

Magpies pecked, flies buzzed and horses stomped and the Globe was a flurry of activity from beings great and small, mythical and real, alive and dead.

"Quiet!" Merlin shouted and silence descended. He asked: "When can we leave this Globe?"

Baited tension.

"Leave? Why would you want to leave?" the Creator confirmed. "You belong to me."

***

366 words

Silly, silly creations, thinking that they could live independently of me. I mean, how ridiculous!

Anyway, to mark the occasion of having written 100 stories in a row, every day through the spring of 2024, I thought I would look back at what I'd written, some of the highlights, and do a tribute story. Seemed appropriate somehow.

I'm off to do myself a firework display in self congratulations.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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