Story [Issue 82] Rain

[thethiefofvictory 339]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Raindrops fall to earth, upon the grass and trees, and upon the children dancing joyfully around them; the watchers of realms beyond look on enviously. A child holds out his hand to catch one, and the rest follow suit, each fighting to be the hand atop the rest, the one which catches the drop of water.

 

One hand, belonging to a child who till now had merely watched the chaos, jumps above the crowd and lays his hands upon the rest; but they falter, and so do those of the rest, and every child recedes from the drop zone and falls down from fatigue and injuries.

 

Another enters just as the raindrop touches the ground and plants itself there; he picks it up, and it dissipates, its last sight being the joy of the collector.

 

***

 

They are roused by the sight of another drop, far above them in the sky and clouds, and stand up in defiance of wounds and the experience of failure. They stumble towards the predicted drop zone until they can walk, and they walk till they reach their tactically chosen positions beside the slowly falling raindrop.

 

A child quickly scales a tree and finds a place on a branch, and his hands start to count time; another glances at him angrily, before returning his gaze to the falling drop.

 

It appears, but it does not drop; no, it magically appears atop the soil, and laughs at the surprise of the crowd.

 

***

 

Sirens ring.

 

The tank AI is coded to seek out the box, no matter what the cost may be. And for what, a moment of joy followed by loss?

 

They still desire the prize.

 

Atop the bridge lies the mystical golden symbol upon which the box shall descend, carried down by a majestic white parachute. Beside it, the tanks gather as though to enact an ancient ritual, but in truth to climb the makeshift pyramid of tanks and to take the gold box.

 

The parachute appears.

 

A barrel rises to the sky and retracts; its holder steps back. Fifteen other tanks, unaware of their impending doom, accelerate towards the symbol, each trying to use their hull or their weapon to their advantage.

 

The gold box nears the ground, but so does the shell. The corpses of dead tanks scatter, making way for the survivor, who rumbles in and grabs his prize.

 

The dead curse him.

 

 

[zakleon 0]

what ?

[eminem9870 605]

Good article man. Good job