Kappa in my Closet - Part 3

    Alex screamed. Long and loud.
    The creature before him seemed to twitch in response. It shook its head softly for a minute as if in shock or annoyance at the sound.
    Alex paid no mind.
    Instead, forgetting himself, he scampered backwards. Anything to just get away from the monstrous creature in front of him. That huge hooked beak. That mottled green screen. The...
    FWUMP!
    He fell backwards through the opening to his attic. His hands grasped at open air as he tumbled and he tried to catch himself on the lips of the edges, but it was too late.
    At the same time, the creature began to lunge forward. Its eyes were hungry, its claws were sharp.
    Absently, Alex wondered if he would fall before the monster got him.
    He was halfway through the opening when he got the answer.
    With inhuman speed, the creature was on him. Even as tumbled back through the opening, it crossed the attic with inhuman speed. Its large webbed claws wide open and closings around both extended arms.
    I'm dead.
    The thought was instant and twisted his guts into knots. It was so sudden and so alien it washed away all others. It was only forced away by the feeling of his arms being nearly dislocated as the creature pulled him back up into the darkness of the attic.
    Drawn back up to the waiting monster's beak.
    Alex screamed again and closed his eyes.

    "Stop it!"
    Alex stopped screaming in a gasp of shock. A moment later, he felt himself sat down on the lip of the attic.
    The creature's claws were vicious and an odd mix of slimy and sticky; kind of like a frog's skin. They let go of Alex's arms a moment later.
    "That's better." the creature said again with another shake of his head. "So loud."
    Alex couldn't do anything but squeak in response. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would tear through his ribs. His face was flushed, his eyes were welled with tears, and his thoughts were a muddled mess of emotion and panic.
    Yet he was alive.
    The monster settled down across the way from him and shook his head again; giving each ear a soft smack like a swimmer trying to extricate a bit of water. He paid Alex little mind for a moment while Alex, on the other hand, stared in amazement.
    After a minute of endless staring, the creature offered him a kind of odd smile.
    It reminded Alex of the time he'd given a turtle a strawberry.
    "Are you okay?" it asked tentatively.
    The creature's voice had an odd pitch that he didn't notice the first time. It sounded like one of those funny voices a clown might do. Really nasally and-
    "Kid? You okay?"
    "Uh. Yea." Alex said with a little nod.
    Was he dead? Did the monster already eat him? Why would he-
    "Good. I was worried for a second. Didn't want you to crack your head open on the dresser. That was a nasty fall you could have taken."
    Alex couldn't respond. He just stared.
    The creature was actually smaller than he originally thought. It seemed like he would only be a bit taller than himself. The real girth came from a massive turtle shell on his back. His skin was mottled and scaly like a reptile's. Except...
    "What's wrong with your hands?" Alex asked absentmindedly.
    The monster held up his claws to inspect them. The flesh was quickly drying into a cracked, gray-brown. Moving from the finger tips down towards his hands.
    "Oh damn!"
    The creature reached up and tapped the top of his head. For the first time, Alex noticed that it was concave; like a bowl. Set amidst a bowl cut of gray hair, it resembled a weird soup dish more than the top of someone's head.
    "Oh damn oh damn!" he repeated again, turning from Alex and running towards the pool.
    Alex couldn't help but watch. His shock turning to mild confusion and curiosity.
    As he watched, the creature dipped his head directly into the kiddie pool; splashing water everywhere. He stayed that way for a few seconds before coming back up. He repeated this a few times more before Alex realized the thing was making a strange effort to keep his head steady and upright each time he did.
    Finally, on the fifth try, the creature resurfaced and seemed satisfied.
    He walked back to Alex and plopped back down again. This time, the bowl on top of the thing's head appeared to be full of water.
    "What are you?" Alex demanded indignantly; more confused than scared now.
    "Me? I'm a Kappa!" it responded in that odd voice.

Kappa in my Closet - Part 2

    Slowly. Painfully slowly. Alex poked his head up over the lip of the hole leading up into his attic. This was immediately preceded by his flashlight which darted around in every direction.
    The light sliced a white beam through the dark, dusty surroundings.
    The area closest to him was about what he expected an attic should be: large, empty and dirty. The walls were covered in a thick coat of dirt and cobwebs. A long, cardboard box that was probably older than his mother was shoved into a little corner.
    However, moving his light carefully over the area above his room, Alex started to notice oddities.
    First and foremost, the floor in this area looked disturbed. Tracks and streaks of clean wood could be seen everywhere in the thick dust. On top of that, empty, plastic water jugs littered the ground all about, particularly in the corners where they were piled in the hundreds. It all led to...
    "A kiddie pool?" Alex asked in confusion.
    Sure enough, there, at the far end of the attic, situated just above where his bed would be, an oversized kiddie pool sat surrounded by a veritable wall of empty, plastic water containers. It appeared old and worn, the designs having peeled and faded at many points.
    Alex, overcome with surprise and curiosity, crawled up into the filthy attic.
    The roof overhead was just tall enough to allow him to stand, but not much else. Cobwebs tangled up in his hair and spiders went unnoticed as they fell from the rafters and skittered away.
    The flashlight's beam was focused solely on the kiddie pool which, to Alex's shock, appeared mostly full with the exception of several splashes here and there.
    Splashes that looked distinctly like footprints.
    "Hello?" he asked dumbfounded, moving the beam side to side.
    A rustle of plastic and a few falling jugs was his response and he stepped back in surprise towards the open attic door.
    "Hello?" he repeated again. "If you're in there: come out now!"
    His voice cracked and shook as he spoke, betraying his fear.
    Nothing moved this time.
    "If you don't come out, I'm gonna call the cops!" he yelled at the suspicious pile of empty jugs. "They'll come and they'll take you away!"
    Still no answer.
    Alex turned to look briefly at the open attic door one more time. The air seemed to burn his lungs with the stench of dirt and dust and god knows what he was looking at but...
    Slowly, he stepped closer to the pile, his beam focused on it once more.
    The problem with wandering around in the dark, particularly when you're feeling scared and not looking where you're putting your feet, is you tend to miss things. Alex sure did.
    He was already falling backward when he felt the half eaten cucumber under his foot roll forward.
    There was a crack and a THUD and everything went dark.

    Alex woke to darkness.
    Actually, that's not accurate. It was dark, but he could still make out a faint glow.
    No. Not a glow. A flash.
    His flashlight!
    Alex sat up in a start and immediately regretted it. His head was throbbing and felt like someone shoved a steel spike into his brain. He shut his eyes tight and clutched his forehead only to feel something warm and sticky in his hair.
    Clickclack
    Alex glanced up at the noise and saw a very large man sitting in the kiddie pool, fumbling with his flashlight. The beam cut here and there, but failed to illuminate the odd, rotund man before him.
    His breath hitched in his throat.
    The man, whoever he was, was large. Had he been up here the whole time? Alex could barely make out some sort of a weird, flat top haircut but what was more noticeable was his bulk. The man's torso appeared, quite literally, round.
    Alex sat there frozen as he watched the man fiddle with the light.
    Who was this man? How was he in his house?
    He glanced over his shoulder towards the exit and, as carefully as he could, he started moving back towards it.
    Alex made it maybe a foot before the wood creaked loudly. In the relative quiet, it made him flinch with how loud it was.
    And it was not missed.
    The man turned to look at him dead in the eyes.
    Tiny beady eyes.
    A long, hooked beak.
    Green skin that showed faintly in the flashlight.
    He wasn't a man. He was a monster.

Man of a Thousand Worlds

There once was a man
From a thousand different worlds
Whose feet had felt the sand of a thousand beaches
And whose face was kissed by the sun

Now please don't forget
He was not the fastest man alive
For that was Usain Allen
Whose speed was bar none

Nor was he the strongest ever
Brian Kent held that privilege
Strong as an ox and powerful to boot
He could easily lift a ton

Now please don't claim
He was the smartest man known
That was Albert Strange
For so many galactic mysteries, he had undone

He was not the best pilot
Nor the best shot around
Oliver Yaegar held both those titles
And he'd shoot you just for fun

He was not the most devout
Of that I have no doubt
Lady Constantine certainly knew best
Afterall, she started as a nun

No, this man had traveled
And seen and explored
He knew he was not the best at anything
Not by a long run

And yet, so many turned to him
So many asked him questions
So many wanted to know
Just how he'd begun

He had given Usain his first shoes
And Brian his first weights
He'd talked for hours with Albert
And given Oliver his first gun

He'd wondered upon the universe
about how it fit into a plan
While it helped Lady Constantine settle down
He was never done

No, he wasn't the fastest or the strongest
The smartest or the best
But everyone knew his sparkling eyes
His old grey hairs and his love of a pun

He might be the wisest
Or so many said
But he simply didn't agree
Surely he'd find another one

If anything, he was the most traveled
The man from a thousand worlds
He had experienced so much
More than anyone

But in the end, he was only a man
A man with a love of the worlds
He didn't care for titles
For their beauty could stun

So let the strong be strong
And let the fast be fast
It didn't matter if he had a title
He was already someone

===

(Hello Lovelies. I hope you enjoyed my terrible little poem. I intend to tweak it and play with it to make it a little more manageable, but I really liked the concept for this story. If and whenever I am satisfied with it, I'll probably commission my wife to help me make it into a children's book. I feel like pictures will make all the difference here. That said, I hope you have a wonderful day!)

The Barren Pot

    Long ago, in a kingdom all but forgotten by the passage of time, there lived a young child. Now this child was neither strong nor fast. They were not smart or savvy. They were just a child like any other who was born of a mother and a father who worked hard for what they had and cared deeply for their child.

    At the same time, there lived a King. He was well known for being cunning and clever and always finding a way to turn the worst situation into the best. He had ruled the kingdom for many years. While some thought ill of him and others held deep love, the one thing everyone agreed on was that he was an honest King. A man of the people who always spoke his mind and told his citizens the truth of what was going on; for better or for worse.

    But, clever or kind, honest or not, the one thing a great King cannot escape; nay! What no man, woman, or child can escape is the passage of time.

    The King had become quite old over the years. A handsome brown beard had become wispy and white. Burning eyes that watched the court’s every movement had become clouded and grey. The oak that had stood tall bowed to the wind and the rain.

    Sadly, the King had never married.

    Some say he had loved in his youth but lost her before gaining the crown. Others believed that he was always simply too busy to seek a wife to sire him an heir. Whatever the reason, the King held no heir. No person to take the crown in the approaching date of his death.

    Now what might this have to do with our young child, you ask? Just listen, and you will see.

    The child, while doing their chores, heard an announcement from one of the King’s men.

    “All who wish for a chance at the crown, make way to the court!” the man bellowed.

    How odd. The child thought. How peculiar indeed.

    Now, the child held little interest in the matters of court, but their mother and father, who worked so hard and so long for their place in life, wanted more. They rushed to the court with the young child in tow.

    “No pushing! No shoving!” shouted a man at the gates. “You’ll all get your turn.”

    And they did. Man, woman, and child were paraded through the court like show ponies before the old King and the guards in shining armor. Some ladies danced and sung to demonstrate their prowess while men showed off their great muscles and their swordsmanship. But it was never enough for the King…

    What did he want? The child wondered.

    Dozens of people were turned away.

    Then hundreds.

    After thousands of people had been turned away by the King, only twenty remained before him. Our young child and nineteen other bright eyed youths.

    “You twenty are the ones I believe show the most promise.” The King said in a raspy and tired tone. “You are the ones who I believe are the best hope for this kingdom. The best hope to take my throne…”

    The guards produced a table from beneath a heavy cloth. On this table, twenty clay pots rested quietly in two rows. Off to the side, a single glass bowl held a number of little seeds.

    “While I think you all have potential, the crown fits only one.” The King went on to say. “And so I will give you all a task.”

    With a wave of his wrinkled, shaking hand, the King motioned towards the pots and the seeds.

    “You will each take one pot and one seed. You will be given two months to grow that which you can from that which you are given.”

    The crowd gasped aloud.

    “You mean to tell me you leave our lives in the hands of gardeners?” a man shouted in anger from the court.

    The King did not respond.

    “In two months’ time, you will return with your pot and your seed and whatever has come of it. I’m curious to see what great and tall plants will come of this endeavor.”

    And so the young child, along with nineteen other youths, were given a pot and a seed and sent on their way.

    At first, the child was hopeful. They planted the seed right away and cared for it carefully. They watered it and fertilized it and let the pot rest in sun and in shade, just in case the plant needed either. They spent every waking hour watching the pot, waiting for the first sprout to show.

    But, after several days, nothing…

    “I’m sure it’s just taking a while.” The young child’s mother said.

    And so they kept trying. Soon, days turned to weeks and still nothing.

    “Perhaps the seed is bad.” The young child’s father said. “If only we knew what type of plant it was so we might replant it.”

    The young child said nothing. Instead, they went for a walk through the village to look at the other plants that the children were growing.

    It wasn’t long before the child reached his nearest neighbor and saw the beautiful morning glory flowers that were blooming from the pot. In weeks it was already vining and budding.

    Oh no! Look at that flower! It’s gorgeous already!

    They continued on to the next house where they saw the next pot. To the child’s surprise, a red rose was growing out of the pot!

    A rose? But the last flower was a morning glory…

    Entranced, the young child continued on. In the walk, they saw five morning glories, four roses, six petunias, three snapdragons, and one lily.

    Returning home, they looked down at the barren empty pot and smiled with realization.

    Soon, two months had passed and the children once again stood in the King’s court with their pots in hand. Everyone laughed and singed and pointed at the gorgeous flowers that every youth held. Everyone had a beautiful flower except the young child. Their pot was still empty.

    Many people pointed and laughed and mocked the child but they remained quiet.

    “A gorgeous morning glory.” The King said to the first child as he called them up to show what had grown. “Truly you have a knack for this kind of work. Step back until I make my decision.”

    “What a beautiful rose.” The King said to the next child. “Hold there until a decision has been made.”

    It continued like this one by one. Praises and compliments and standing ovations for the gorgeous plants each youth held. Until finally, the King reached the young child who stood before him with their barren pot.

    “And you, child. Your pot is empty. You are surrounded by beauty and fairness by all the other competitors. Why do you approach me today.”

    “B-b-because, your M-majesty. You wanted to see what came of this endeavor and you have seen it.”

    “That I have.” The King said, a joy slipping into his cracking old voice.

    “We have our new sovereign!” the King declared to the shocked gasps and guffaws of the court. “And my heir!”

    “But how?!” cried the parent of one of the children. “My boy’s rose is the most beautiful here and that child has nothing in their pot!”

    “And that is why.” The King said with a smile. “For they are the only one to have nothing in their pot.”

    The court felt silent at this.

    “Tell me, sir.” The King said to the parent’s youth. “Where did you get your rose seed?”

    The youth hung their head in shame. “My parents, your Majesty.”

    “And you?” he asked another.

    “The gardener.” She said with tears in her eyes.

    The same repeated another seventeen times, one by one, as the King revealed how every child or parent had planted new seeds when they realized the seed they had was barren. The young child, neither cunning nor witty, but honest, was the only one who did not cheat in hopes of winning the contest.

    “And you, child” the King said, “Where did you get your seed.”

    “Your Majesty, the King.”

    Before a shocked crowd and a gaping court, the child and their parents were raised up before the other men and women in the room to join the King at his side. Over the years, he taught the child everything he knew and, far too soon, faded with time. But the child, now strong and smart from the great King’s tutelage, went on to become one of the greatest Lieges the kingdom had ever known, always remembering the lessons the King had taught them.

(Please note that most will realize this is not an original story. Instead, this is a story inspired by an old Chinese Folk story “The Empty Pot (An Owlet Book)”. Obviously this is my take on the idea with my own adages and a European spin, however I cannot take any credit for the tale itself and do not wish to. Instead I hope that you enjoyed.)