Creatures Caves

Be warned, this short story is quite pessimistic. It runs in my veins after all...

This is meant to be a possible interpretation of Sphericus before the Lone Shee docks to the Arc. I'd imagine he'd be of some salvation. At least I'd hope he would.

?Her wings are marvellous!? He shouts into the microphone, the crowd is too loud for him to speak normally.

?Here she is! The Queen of Sphericus, observe how elegantly she walks! Her gait shows the magnificent genes of the grendels we love dearly! Oh how desperately I wish I was so fortunate to have my genes spliced with grendels...? The announcer?s voice continues on, as rehearsed as ever. I know for a fact if he was speaking from his mind his statement would be entirely different to this one.

Millions of norns are gathered in cages hanging from the ceiling, suspended by tightly wound wire cables. Once happy, the norns are now gifts for the newly crowned queen. Their little eyes are filled with terror as they look down at the object of their demise. I can only pity the poor things.

Deemed useless by the ever tyrannical Banshee norns have become simple toys and test subjects to a slew of different scientific experiments. In my home we all chatter about how lucky we are to be ettins. We aren?t at the top of the pyramid but we?re not as tragic as norns.

They fell from the hierarchy pretty much as soon as the banshee got their green claws on Sphericus. It started with the Shee being rounded up. There weren?t many deaths, luckily. Shee weren?t rebellious so they managed to be moulded into servants who do menial work for the bourgeoisie, who sit on their slowly rounding hides while the innocent sweat in their greasy fingers.

Yes, there is resentment in Eddie the Ettin?s voice. I have more than enough justification for it though. I could start with the fact that Eddie is clearly a masculine name and despite my biological sex I am by no means masculine. But matters are much more pressing, such as the millions of pairs of eyes that glisten with tears in the cage above me or the Jungle Grendels cowardice after the Horace incident that
happened era?s ago.

All the glitter and glamour are giving me turbulent headaches. They?re suckers for sequins these days. It is after all, idle distraction for the ever naive. The Shee have long gone from their fabulously ground breaking discoveries. They sit around in their pokey labs creating norns that sparkle or servant grendels that have six arms. Yes, norns were created for servitude but there was some extent of care put into their genetic construction, measures if you will to prevent the worst from happening. Even then, the Shee found them too endearing for their original purpose.

Idle distraction isn?t absent of us ettins either. The Banshee love their techonological pursuitsand from this came a plethora of the glorious things we compulsively haul to the desert. Gadgets. The thing that keeps the ettins in balance. If we do some vital button pushing for the upper castes we get to spend precious time playing ?hunt and haul? across the planet. Vital button pushing of course is a lighter term for brutal mutilation of innocent creatures.

I never liked my splicing job. It?s always felt like a crime. If the law were in my hands it would be. I think about the hundreds of grendels that have died at the hands of many Shee wanting to push themselves up the social ladder so desperately in a hope of recognition from the dreaded Banshee. This profession shouldn?t have to exist in this world. It never did before.

I stare at the spectacle in front of me. Madness. My hands shakily grip onto a lump of deathcap as I give one last gulp before I swallow my doom. I purse my lips.

But for some reason, I stop myself short...