Are You Ready?

"Alright, we're finally here. [pause] Are you ready?"

"Pfft, of course I'm ready, I was bo-"

"Don't Say It."

"What?"

"You were going to say 'born ready,' weren't you."

"[ . . . ]"

"Just- shut up, okay? You know my nerves have been on edge ever since, well, y'know . . ."

". . . I'm sorry."

"Whatever, it's not a big deal. Let's just get to shutting this portal before the demons get through."

"Alrighty. Just point the tome at them and then raise the staff."

[pause]

". . . Nothing's happening."

"Oh."

"Nothing Is Happening."

"[ . . . ]"

"I thought you read the ancient manuscripts."

"I did . . . Though it might've said you were supposed to point the staff at them and then raise the tome . . ."

"What do you mean, are you not sure?!"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Just pretty sure?"

". . . Yeah."

"I THOUGHT You read the Ancient Manuscripts. YOU Were Supposed to Read The Ancient Manuscripts. THAT'S ALL YOU WER-"

"I read the SparkNotes!"

"You What?"

"SparkNotes! Today's Most Popular Study Guides!"

[pause]

"I hate you."

T H E E N D

Return to the Workshop

The hinges shrieked in protest, but the door ignored its cries and swung inward regardless. Whatever air was moved by the half-hearted push was like a hurricane to the dust coating the room, and miniature sandstorms raged across the hardwood floor. Steps that would have been more fitting in a child of nine or ten months were taken by feet many times that age; joints rusty with disuse creaked and moved the aged body forward.

Watery eyes scanned the room and its disheveled contents. He imagined he could feel the dust molecules gently landing on his pupils, creating a thin layer of mud from eyelid to eyelid. Perhaps this mud would cure him of his blindness, tears of regret and the dust of creation instead of the dust of the road the spit of a saviour.

Bony hands shook as if afraid before settling on a piece that had laid untouched for far too long. They gingerly raised the artifact upwards, brought the forgotten creating close to blinking eyes.

The thick coat of dust was stirred by the wheezing breaths, and the slow monotonous inhale and exhale became a series of hacking coughs. For a brief moment time stood still, and he took this moment to entertain the thought that perhaps he was dying, that neglecting his work had finally done him in. Then time began once again and on the ground were gobs of whatever he had hacked up in his lungs, and clutched in his hands was his invention, mostly free of dust.

He brought it to eye level once more and gazed upon it, fingers tracing its contours and edges, remembering when he had first laid hands on it. It felt good in his hands, and he knew that all around the room were similar projects, left to sit in the dark and the dust. Standing up a little straighter, he let out a deep sigh at the work in his hands.

This needs a lot of editing, he thought, fingers dancing just above the keyboard, disappointedly gazing at the screen.

Ten Word Tale (expanded)

It honestly wasn't her fault; her bus had pulled up to the station fifteen minutes late only to pull around the corner into the largest traffic jam the city had seen in decades. Almost an hour later (and only four blocks forward) she had stepped off the bus and walked home. It never occurred to her to call him, or that he might still be waiting. No one waits for over an hour, and she could always apologize next time she saw him.

He swung his legs back and forth on the cool cement bench. It was getting dark, and already children were pulling on their parents' arms for just five more minutes, and couples were walking hand-in-hand back to warm apartments. Pursing his lips he breathed out and watched as his breath swam cloudy through the air. I won't check what time it is, he said, I can wait a little longer.

The sun rose slowly, bringing with it a new day and the possibility of her arrival. The soles of his shoes had long been scuffed away, and the elbows of his jackets were worn from continued stretching. Autumn had passed and winter had trailed slowly behind, leaving spring to take the stage for a few months. It was early, and the morning brisk and cool. The boy sighed, and slowly released his breath through pursed lips, watched the sunlit air and saw nothing.

Ten Word Tale

Boy sat waiting. The girl never arrived. He still sits.