Posted Jan 24 2012 - 01:05 PM
Well, lads and lassies, here's a spur of the moment thing I just came up with about... two, three hours ago, I think. It just popped into my head when I decided to visit here again, and I realized how much I'd forgotten about this certain part of my life. So I thought "Hey, if you're coming back, might as well do something, right?" ********WHAT HAD BEEN LOST********I still see them.Their features haunt me, watch me, they stalk me relentlessly through the shadows of the day and the lamplight of the night. Made for no expression, yet they cry out silently. Pleading. Yearning.They had died a long time ago.Or so I tell myself.You betrayed us, they whisper. You swore to never forget us. I didn’t forget you! I want to reply. I know you guys, I remember you well! But I can’t.Because I did forget them. Over the months and years, I let them fade into obscurity. I allowed myself to be led away to other, more trivial things, leaving them to watch as they themselves tumbled into ruin, waiting for me to return to them.We made you happy. We brought you joy when you were alone. You gave us being, name, and personality. They stare at me. Blank, lifeless, twisted and broken on the floor, piled uselessly onto bookshelves and bedside tables. Expensive trash, thrown away and ignored because they no longer seemed to serve their purpose.When you cried, we stood there to comfort you, even if you did not notice us. In your anger, you hurt and wrecked us, but we gladly accepted it for we knew the truths behind your rage, even if you did not tell us. And you always repaired us afterwards, fixing what you had broken.I toss my bag aside and take a seat on the bed. They make no move; they have none to offer me, for their living was through my hands. Their stories were my imaginations. I was their life, as much as they, too, were mine.Slowly, carefully, I reach out towards the one closest to me. A fine example of the ’04 architecture, back when that was the newest thing around. He had been the first one I created, and since then I changed very little about him. Vorik, I called him. Leader of his special company that liked to operate secretly in the Matoran Universe, with prominent members from different dimensions so as not to screw up the main storyline.My fingers close around his ridiculously thin body. Funny how I never saw the proportion of his figure as odd before. I turn him over, pinch the large, rough gear on his back, and give it a spin. His right arm immediately responds, the large sword going into a diagonal twirl and smashing awkwardly into his face. With a clatter of plastic, his mask falls off his face and onto the floor.Setting aside Vorik, I bend over and pick up the mask. I lay it flat on my palm and stare at the empty eyeholes of the red Hau. Separated from the face of its owner, the mask is dead. Inactive. Useless. It is no longer any different from the thousands of others just like it: a piece of hardened, moulded plastic, meant to be part of a generic set.My left hand unconsciously finds Vorik and brings him to my sight again. The hard, angular features of a first-generation Bionicle glare at me with transparent ice-blue eyes. Those eyes had always made him unique to me: where most Fire Toa would have orange, red, or yellow, I intentionally chose his to be light blue. It suits him, somehow. Yet without the mask, the figure is nothing. There is nothing that I can connect from the naked plastic features to the Vorik that I have in my head. Without the mask, the figure is incomplete: there is no personality, no feeling in the eyes.It hits me then, just how strangely intertwined the small details of a creation can be. For just a single part to be missing from the whole is enough to make the entire thing imperfect. Everything from the smallest rod to the broadest piece of chest armor must be present in the creation; otherwise it loses its entire being.And so carefully, almost reverently, I push the mask back into place.In an instant, he is alive again.The fearless, calm, and wise Toa of Fire I had created many years ago stands in my hands once more, sword at the ready, waiting for me to bring him another adventure, another journey through the universe only I could envision.Welcome back, I hear him say. You have been away for far too long. “I know,” I whisper out loud. Blinking rapidly, I am surprised to find dampness gathering around my eyes. For such a small act to bring out the emotion in me: have I become overly sensitive? Or do I genuinely, truly feel the joy of finding something alive that I had thought dead?So, what now, sir? Running a hand over my eyes to chase away the unformed tears, I set him on my night table, angling his legs and arms so that he stands proud and erect, his oversized sword resting on his shoulder.“Now, I muster the rest of the company,” I say softly, reaching down for the next Bionicle creation lying on the floor, a strange Hordika-like being cradling an oversized rifle. “And when you’re all here, I’d like to apologize to you.”*****Nothin' to do here, just read and move along. Or react, if you feel like it.