Dex-chan lover
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2018
- Messages
- 5,165
There was once a little robot whose body of silver and grey had a head half its size. It had a great pair of claws of which enables itself to behold its cable of life.
Ding! Its body has been revitalized with electrical energy.
Its fragile wheels slipped pass the dusty ground, offering zig-zag lines to the lonesome floor as a drop of memory that its presence was once there. At the robot's left were the remains of what seemed like pieces of broken glass; and at its right were the remnants of great towers which were once erected on these previously fertile lands. The sound of silence consumed the area whether it is front, back, left or right for only the whispers of the winds can speak in these moist moods.
A camera, as its left eye, envisions the world of daytime darkness through its thorough lens. A lamp, as its right eye, showers light upon those considered as dust in the air - never-ending is its fall, never-ending is its source. These particles will continue to layer the land indefinitely.
Each and every single morning without a sun, the little robot would be charging itself; hoping, no, praying to whatever God is up there that one day, some day, it shall find a motion alike of itself, anything other than the beaten, cotton scarf tied tightly around its neck that lays powerless against the flow of the wind.
When the clock strikes 24, the tides of this mucky, brown ocean would often steal the sand of the soot-like shores into its depths just by the sides of the little robot’s round wheels. Tiriririt… tiriririt… It can hear the cries echoing from within its body. Leaving zig-zag lines behind of itself, the little robot finds its home inside of a tiny hole on the side of a building, built specifically for it during a time unlike this oblivion now. With one claw to reach for its cable and another to plug it in, it rests for the night and prepares itself for a wishful journey in the next cycle.
* * *
Ding!
The little robot awakens to yet another morning which lacks another sun. Its right eye shines with mighty determination. And once more, it decides to leave the only place where it belongs just to accomplish its mission.
As the time ticks away, its zig-zag line grew longer and longer - all decimated by the hail of acid rain. Blue lightning creeps across the smoky clouds just when the robot rushed to find shelter inside of an aluminum trash can that fell on its side.
As if the toxic waters were trying desperately to lick its iron body, the robot retreats deeper and deeper into the trash can, centimeter by centimeter, up until a sudden bump halted it in its movement. Without purpose, a heavy, rusted, iron weight got pushed off of an aged box, a strictly-batik pattern decorated its outer walls as ornament.
And as peculiar as it is, the box moved.
Only now after an immeasurable amount of time had passed that this abandoned box manage to open itself. A wooden maiden ascends from within its apathetic prison, at long last is finally experiencing its long dream turning into a reality. In this cold, motionless atmosphere, a mesmerizing form of life danced blissfully with an adorable, little smile that even a monster could not forget. The girl danced and danced to the rhythm of the musical that the box under her gifted, as if it is being thankful for not becoming forgotten.
The curious, little robot laughed at itself; at long last has it witness life but out of all the possible places, it had to be inside of a forsaken trash can and no less in this awful weather… but it's thankful nonetheless. At long last.
Its left eye, as if waking up from a seven-year doze, starts focusing, intensely memorizing every single frame of the wooden maiden's elegant dance. The melody played by the wondrous box with the batik embroidery was so divine that none of the loudest screeches that the rain outside could’ve possibly made could even compete with it; for even the slightest of this gentleness could defeat all of the insanity and violence that roams mindlessly outside.
Even if it only lasts for one whole second, our little robot has finally completed its one mission in a life as short as its own.
But then the girl’s motion begins to die out, the box's song also fell short of the orchestra that it used to be. It wasn’t that long that… slow turns into static and static is overcome by panic.
And even that turns into eternal silence.
At long last, that girl is dead. She can't dance anymore. The song that was oh so sweet was robbed and can no longer exist.
It cries. It can only cry. Whatever it does - pulling, kicking, punching… screaming. That wooden girl doesn't want to wake up. She can't even shiver.
The rain has been killed. This time the whispers aren't coming only from the howling winds.
Through the darkness of the sunless noon, the little robot refuses to give up - stones and pebbles by the seashore rolls away to provide a pathway for the batik-painted, wooden box with the girl sleeping inside. This isn't a good idea from the beginning; its spending way too much energy. At long last...
Tiriririt...
It knows of its little time.
Tiriririt...
It still has to finish this… before...
Tiririri...
It arrives in front of its shelter of a hole - dying, but in one piece.
Tririri…
Triirii…
Triiiii...
Prioritizing the girl over itself, her box is pushed in first.
Triiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiii…
It's… so… close...
...
Silence.
Just silence.
It has its life cable in its hands. It was so close...
The girl doesn't speak a word as if she was speechless; the left eye is closed as if it will never awaken; the right eye doesn't want to activate as if its thoughts were drained of its contents.
For a moment, the world was rid of life.
But it haven't given up.
Even with just one of its claws, it could still turn the tables of this situation while it still can quiver.
With its last breath, our little robot reached for the cable and...
...offered it to the girl.
...
Truly at that moment, the world was really rid of its last life.
Thus Earth has no longer any life.
It's all dead.
Ding! Its body has been revitalized with electrical energy.
Its fragile wheels slipped pass the dusty ground, offering zig-zag lines to the lonesome floor as a drop of memory that its presence was once there. At the robot's left were the remains of what seemed like pieces of broken glass; and at its right were the remnants of great towers which were once erected on these previously fertile lands. The sound of silence consumed the area whether it is front, back, left or right for only the whispers of the winds can speak in these moist moods.
A camera, as its left eye, envisions the world of daytime darkness through its thorough lens. A lamp, as its right eye, showers light upon those considered as dust in the air - never-ending is its fall, never-ending is its source. These particles will continue to layer the land indefinitely.
Each and every single morning without a sun, the little robot would be charging itself; hoping, no, praying to whatever God is up there that one day, some day, it shall find a motion alike of itself, anything other than the beaten, cotton scarf tied tightly around its neck that lays powerless against the flow of the wind.
When the clock strikes 24, the tides of this mucky, brown ocean would often steal the sand of the soot-like shores into its depths just by the sides of the little robot’s round wheels. Tiriririt… tiriririt… It can hear the cries echoing from within its body. Leaving zig-zag lines behind of itself, the little robot finds its home inside of a tiny hole on the side of a building, built specifically for it during a time unlike this oblivion now. With one claw to reach for its cable and another to plug it in, it rests for the night and prepares itself for a wishful journey in the next cycle.
* * *
Ding!
The little robot awakens to yet another morning which lacks another sun. Its right eye shines with mighty determination. And once more, it decides to leave the only place where it belongs just to accomplish its mission.
As the time ticks away, its zig-zag line grew longer and longer - all decimated by the hail of acid rain. Blue lightning creeps across the smoky clouds just when the robot rushed to find shelter inside of an aluminum trash can that fell on its side.
As if the toxic waters were trying desperately to lick its iron body, the robot retreats deeper and deeper into the trash can, centimeter by centimeter, up until a sudden bump halted it in its movement. Without purpose, a heavy, rusted, iron weight got pushed off of an aged box, a strictly-batik pattern decorated its outer walls as ornament.
And as peculiar as it is, the box moved.
Only now after an immeasurable amount of time had passed that this abandoned box manage to open itself. A wooden maiden ascends from within its apathetic prison, at long last is finally experiencing its long dream turning into a reality. In this cold, motionless atmosphere, a mesmerizing form of life danced blissfully with an adorable, little smile that even a monster could not forget. The girl danced and danced to the rhythm of the musical that the box under her gifted, as if it is being thankful for not becoming forgotten.
The curious, little robot laughed at itself; at long last has it witness life but out of all the possible places, it had to be inside of a forsaken trash can and no less in this awful weather… but it's thankful nonetheless. At long last.
Its left eye, as if waking up from a seven-year doze, starts focusing, intensely memorizing every single frame of the wooden maiden's elegant dance. The melody played by the wondrous box with the batik embroidery was so divine that none of the loudest screeches that the rain outside could’ve possibly made could even compete with it; for even the slightest of this gentleness could defeat all of the insanity and violence that roams mindlessly outside.
Even if it only lasts for one whole second, our little robot has finally completed its one mission in a life as short as its own.
But then the girl’s motion begins to die out, the box's song also fell short of the orchestra that it used to be. It wasn’t that long that… slow turns into static and static is overcome by panic.
And even that turns into eternal silence.
At long last, that girl is dead. She can't dance anymore. The song that was oh so sweet was robbed and can no longer exist.
It cries. It can only cry. Whatever it does - pulling, kicking, punching… screaming. That wooden girl doesn't want to wake up. She can't even shiver.
The rain has been killed. This time the whispers aren't coming only from the howling winds.
Through the darkness of the sunless noon, the little robot refuses to give up - stones and pebbles by the seashore rolls away to provide a pathway for the batik-painted, wooden box with the girl sleeping inside. This isn't a good idea from the beginning; its spending way too much energy. At long last...
Tiriririt...
It knows of its little time.
Tiriririt...
It still has to finish this… before...
Tiririri...
It arrives in front of its shelter of a hole - dying, but in one piece.
Tririri…
Triirii…
Triiiii...
Prioritizing the girl over itself, her box is pushed in first.
Triiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiii…
It's… so… close...
...
Silence.
Just silence.
It has its life cable in its hands. It was so close...
The girl doesn't speak a word as if she was speechless; the left eye is closed as if it will never awaken; the right eye doesn't want to activate as if its thoughts were drained of its contents.
For a moment, the world was rid of life.
But it haven't given up.
Even with just one of its claws, it could still turn the tables of this situation while it still can quiver.
With its last breath, our little robot reached for the cable and...
...offered it to the girl.
...
Truly at that moment, the world was really rid of its last life.
Thus Earth has no longer any life.
It's all dead.
