{Well guys, remember when I promised there would be a time where I would write a story about a lad named K'nave? Well, that time has come! I can not promise anything good, but I hope you won't find it too dull.
PS. I am SO making this up as I go.}
Tales of a Knave
Chapter One, Part One
"Good evening, boy."
"Good evening, Spot," K'nave replied to the giant head that floated in front of him. The head was about the size of four normal craniums, appearing somewhat human, with large pointed teeth and beady black eyes. It breathed black plumes of smoke that twisted around K'nave's ankles. K'nave figured Spot used the smoke for arms, since Spot lacked appendages of his own, even though his ears were quite maneuverable. "Lovely night for a dream, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose," Spot answered. The giant floating head sighed as if he had better things to do than talk to a teenager. "Come, let's float and talk." The two floated across a giant abyss of black that was deeper than a man could measure. It had roads that led over it, but the roads were made of solidified rainbows, and Spot found the pink unicorns that trotted on them unsightly. They floated past the roads instead. K'nave caught a butterfly made of butter and fly parts and let it perch on his finger as they glided across the darkness.
"So, what do you have to say to me, Spot?" K'nave questioned absently as he searched the horizon for pink unicorns. Spot shook his head.
"Only what I say in this dream every Tuesday, K'nave. Usually, when an all-powerful spirit comes to a hero's dreams, they only have to deliver the prophesy once. The heroes don't have to understand the dream completely, but they should at least understand that something dramatic is going to happen -- "
"Look, a rainbow!" K'nave exclaimed.
"There's always a rainbow. Now listen to me -- "
"Whoa! The sun is smiling down at me again," K'nave shouted.
Spot let out a roar that sounded like a dragon's and floated in front of K'nave's face. Spot's hair lashed around and flicked the boy's shoulders. The black smoke turned into fire that made the unicorns run away and melted the butterfly.
"That's it! I have given you the same dream eight times! Eight! And still I have to say the same things over again. Of all the naive heroes....How about a little gratitude, eh, little boy? I'm telling you your future. And now I'm telling you again: When you turn sixteen, which is this morning, your destiny begins. Your decisions will change the fate of the world. You and your comrades will combat evil. Yadda yadda yadda...ultimate destiny...etc. Get it?"
"That's it! I have given you the same dream eight times! Eight! And still I have to say the same things over again. Of all the naive heroes....How about a little gratitude, eh, little boy? I'm telling you your future. And now I'm telling you again: When you turn sixteen, which is this morning, your destiny begins. Your decisions will change the fate of the world. You and your comrades will combat evil. Yadda yadda yadda...ultimate destiny...etc. Get it?"
K'nave blinked in response to Spot's speech. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak, as if he were carefully choosing his words. Hope sprouted in Spot's metaphorical heart.
"...You know, when you start to rant like that, it's usually more poetic," K'nave said.
"Oh my spirits."
"But don't worry, Spot. I understand. Something fantastic shall happen, and I will be a part of it. Why couldn't you have told me this in person?"
"...You know, when you start to rant like that, it's usually more poetic," K'nave said.
"Oh my spirits."
"But don't worry, Spot. I understand. Something fantastic shall happen, and I will be a part of it. Why couldn't you have told me this in person?"
Spot shrugged.
"It isn't in the Rules. Prophesies must always be told through dreams," Spot said.
K'nave became confused.
"Huh? What are the Rules?" K'nave asked, brushing the fly parts and butter off of his shoulder.
"Huh? What are the Rules?" K'nave asked, brushing the fly parts and butter off of his shoulder.
Spot smiled like he had just won a great victory.
"Yes! Finally, some confusion! Now that you actually care, I may finally leave this wretched place," Spot shouted.
"What? No! You can't leave me now! I don't understand!"
"Ha ha! So long, K'nave! And may the Rules be with you!" The fire turned back into black smoke and surrounded Spot, obscuring him. Spot began to dissipate before K'nave's eyes. K'nave tried to grab at the smoke, but it was useless. Eventually even the echo of Spot's laughter ceased, leaving K'nave alone in his dream. Silence.
"Oh, and my name isn't Spot."
--
K'nave Smith's eyes fluttered open, but winced shut when a shaft of light from the open window blinded him. Moaning, he rolled onto his side and clumsily pulled the rough wool blanket over himself, trying to catch up on deep sleep that he always missed on Tuesdays. The images from his dream were foggy, but he supposed he got the gist of whatever Spot was trying to tell him. As far as he could tell, something totally fantastic was going to happen and there would be a path of solidified rainbows along the way. K'nave smiled at the thought.
Then he bolted up with a start. He looked out the window and gasped. The sun had already risen in the sky.
"Father!" K'nave fell out of his bed (having just awakened, it was the best he could do) and pulled on his clothes as fast as he could manage. While still pulling on his worn pants that were made of more patches than the original material, he grabbed his boots. He rushed downstairs and met his father just as the man was heading out the door. The man flashed a gigantic white smile at his son, holding two buckets of bird feed.
"K'nave! You're up late," Cooper McGee said, while sticking his feet into two massive boots.
K'nave shrugged while he took a bucket of feed from his dad.
"I know, father. I...had a strange dream."
Mr. McGee's bright expression darkened, which was a rare occurrence. Most would consider that a good thing, since the man was over six feet tall with arms that rivaled dinner plates in circumference: a single punch from him in a bad mood would knock you out for days.
"Getting up late and almost missing a ritualistic part of life? Sounds like a prophesy..." McGee mumbled to himself.
"What was that, Father?"
Mr. McGee's wide smiled returned and he headed out the door.
"Come on, son. We'd best heading out. We wouldn't want you to work all day and miss your birthday gift," he said.
K'nave grinned and followed his father out of the door, heading towards the chicken stable.
And indeed, "stable" was the right word.
---
Do you like it? It isn't much, but I hope it caught your attention. Please leave your comments.
