The inspirational photo was this one: https://www.flickr.com/photos/alextrenta/24123550955/
I hope you are entertained.
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The soft whirring of servomotors broke
the silence of the foggy glade with each of his footsteps. Each of
those steps was soft upon the mossy ground. His clawed, metal toes
dug into the ground, holding his shaky metal body steady.
He stopped and stood at the base of an
old withered evergreen tree. The dark, aged stone structure was still
standing where it had always been. Its pointed spires pointed towards
the heavens in the center of the small, circular glade. A testament
to the age before when the area was cleared for its construction.
A loud spark startled him for a moment
and he looked down. The stub where his left shoulder had once been
was firing off a short twitch of electricity. He gently touched it
with his right arm. His still flesh and blood hand touched the
exposed wire, carefully twisting them together. The sparking ceased,
returning the glade to its silent serenity.
He took another step forward, but the
soft whirring of his motors gave way to a sharp crack as his knee
gave out. Gears, wires and sparks exploded as it shattered. He fell
to the ground, his arm extending just in time to keep his face from
meeting the dirt.
He panted, his fingers digging into the
soft dirt as he fought to keep himself from collapsing. He was so
close. So very close.
He looked up at the mausoleum ahead of
him. The shape of the tomb inside was just visible at the top of the
stairs. He groaned in pain as he worked his one good leg under
himself and used it to push off.
Pain rippled through his body as he
crawled towards the tomb. Remnants of a fight that now seemed so long
ago, but was still fresh in his mind. He pushed it all aside. He
still had the force of will to finish this journey that had started
so long ago.
He thought of her face. Her beautiful
face untouched by time itself. Her smile that always filled him with
a joy he'd never experienced since. The dark, curly hair that rounded
her head. Soft and shiny.
The images pushed him on. He imagined
he could see her standing there now, her arm extended. There was that
smile. Her eyes filled with life and wonder.
He crawled up the first set of steps.
His breath heavy. His dirty hand grasped the edge of the next. He
looked up only to see her phantasm had faded. She was gone again. He
knew she was, but for that brief moment he allowed himself a glimmer
of hope.
He pulled himself up the stairs,
stopping at the top to allow himself to breathe.
Hope was not something he was
accustomed to. Happiness even less so. Not since that day. When those
cold beings with even colder hearts cut her down. Her and so many
others. But she had been his life. When she died, most of him died
too.
Not all, though. There remained a fire
within him. It was the fire of vengeance. It was a fire that let him
temper his body and his fury.
The augments were not cheap, but they
were necessary. It was the only way to face her killers, and he did.
One by one they fell before him. Some quietly, some loudly, some
easily and some painfully. He touched his shoulder again. But the
important part was that they all fell.
He sits up, moving slowly towards the
tomb. He reaches up and grabs the edge, using the last of his
strength to pull himself up.
He laid beside the figure carved into
the lid of the tomb. It was her. Her face calm and serene, sleeping
in a stone slumber. He ran his hand across her face, his mind
flashing to the last time he truly saw her. Alive and happy.
He felt his body shudder as he laid his
head beside hers, closing his eyes.
“I did it...” he whispered. “It's
all over.”
As he let out a breath, the mausoleum
shook around him. He opened his eyes. The whole area was illuminated
by a bright, white light.
A figure stood at the base of the
stairs. A golden glow illuminated it and separated it from its bright
surroundings. He squinted towards it.
It was female and seemed human until
you got to her lower torso...which turned deerlike, golden patterns
weaved along her body. Golden flowers bloomed at her hooves.
She had a smile on her face. A familiar
smile. A face framed by curly hair. She took a few steps forward
until her forelegs stood at the top of the mausoleum. Her hand
extended towards him.
“You've fought well,” she said. Her
lips didn't move, and her smile remained. He reached to touch her
hand. “And your fighting is done.”
He touched her hand and felt himself
consumed by the white light, golden shapes danced at the edges of his
vision. All the pain and fatigue vanished.
“Rest well, my warrior...”
*END*
Hi N'Eligahn! I really like the idea of combining robot/cyborg SF with more straight fantasy. I'm not sure the two concepts felt fully integrated in the story as it stands? How do cyborgs and centaurs fit into the same world? I think the nature of this woman's killers also needs to be more developed.
ReplyDeleteBut I think combining these two things is a great idea, and I think you set up some nice imagery in support of it. There are some points, especially in the first paragraphs, where that imagery starts to feel a little burdened by the quantity of adjectives used -- I think you can pare back somewhat.
Thank you very much for your feedback and I'm VERY sorry I'm only just now seeing this (>_<). As it stands, short fiction is something very new to me and a skill I think I'd like to expand more on.
DeleteAs it stands, the world building is, as I implied, not quite something I'm used to. In many of the things I work to build, I do a lot of the /major/ building stuff behind the scenes...when it came to the project, I just sort of wrote.
Also, I am very aware how much I "overwrite", especially in terms of adjectives. A skill I've been working to grind away certain "bad" writing habits like that, and naughty adverbs.
Thank you again. :D