Tale of the Week 289: Behemoth - Voting Thread
Behemoth
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Submission 1 My mom and dad want me to have a pet. I guess it is part of growing up. So, I went to the pet store with the money my dad gave me. I was to pick out my choice and also get the needed food and supplies that I would need to begin to take care of the new baby. That's right. One requirement was that it be a baby. I was then to call and ask to get picked up with the pet and the loot.
My mom would always say that all babies are cute. I agreed. I would pick out a baby for my first pet. Dad said that was best so that both I and the pet could grow up together, I said that was no sweat. I can handle that detail.
What would be the perfect escort for a growing young lady?
I did not want a doberman. They make me nervous. Besides it would be unfair to the doberman to look ferocious protecting little me walking me home from school and whatever. I do not remember any kid that had a problem or needed protection walking home from grade school. I assume even a doberman has pride of purpose.
I looked and looked, but nothing interested me until I saw Ben.
I thought Gentle Ben from that worthless rerun station that my parents watch. Gentle Ben was huge. He as a very big bear. If a big bear was not intimidating,would a baby bear be okay?
Ben was perfect with the little blue bow. That is how I knew he was a he. It would be unfair to expect a baby girl to grow up to escort and protect another girl. Ben with the blue ribbon was now mine. Well I had to make the purchase, but that was as they say, fulfilling the formalities. Best of all, Ben was a vegetarian, just like me.
I told the clerk that I could walk Ben home. I had walked to the store, so going home would be no sweat. I asked that the food and supplies be delivered later in the day. The clerk assured me a very short walk was okay for Ben.
So Ben and I took a short stroll back to my house. It would now be his home as well. Even though we live in the city, this house was the last piece of land grandpa owned as his farm. So some bits of the farm are still here. Dad uses the barn as a garage. Mom likes the vegetable garden. Best of all it had a large pond or maybe it was a small lake. I do not really know how to describe it other than smelly in the late summer. It might be perfect for Ben though.
“Mom! I am home! I bought a baby with the cutest little blue ribbon. Meet Ben, the baby hippopotamus.”
Submission 2 "Oh my Gods! Would you believe the size of that absolute unit? It's huge!" Cynfawr was knee deep in the gritty, muddy marsh. Not only knee deep, he was on his knees. The fog had settled on the marsh like a blanket, and now it hid Cynfawr and his fellow tribesmen from view. From Roman view. They had come to his land, his own land, to kill, maim, rape and steal. The Arverni traders had warned him of these invaders, but he had not listened. He didn't believe that red-clad men marching tight together would come across the sea in so large numbers. Why had they come now? Why had life done this to him? It was unfair. He had only just become chief, after his father had passed. He was in charge, and the first thing he would be in charge of was a carnage. He looked to his side, and saw his men were as intimidated as he was. Good. They ought to be, for blood would be shed today.
Now they heard the marching. The devilish sound of iron-nailed sandals tramping together. Boom. Boom. Like the Druids drums, but there were so very many. There was a deeper boom too. It couldn't come from man, nor horse. Cynfawr felt sweat running down his body, he was soaked. But he did what he had to do. Trying not to sound too nervous , he mustered a battle-cry that came out as too high pitched, but it was one. He charged forward, out of the mist together with his brave companions. As he ran, he heard trumpets sound, and boots coming to a halt. Shouts in a foreign language, and then the booms coming towards him. But he ran.
It all happened so fast. Just as he came to the edge of the fog, a giant shape came into it, right in front of him. 4 legs, greyish skin and Romans on it. Cynfawr saw no more before it was on him, and he yelled as his 14 winters of life came to an end.
Submission 3
Looming. That was the only word for it. It stood ahead of him, that terrible grin fixed to its grotesque mouth, and it loomed, a spectre of evil made flesh. He knew he would find it here, knew it would greet him with its hungry maw, and he came willingly. After all, that is the business of heroes. To walk blindly and willingly into the grip of doom, with no thought for safety or good sense.
As it stood before him, its taloned toes clicking maddeningly on the stones, he wondered why he wasn’t nervous. By all rights he should have been, for though he’d faced beasts and demons before, they had all been petty things compared to this monstrosity. It filled his entire world, blurring the horizon between heaven and earth, and to call it merely huge would be folly, for its immensity belied any comprehension in a four letter word. It was no matter. The monster would fall like the rest.
With a confidence little earned the hero pushed his spear into the ground, its point upright. It was a holy thing, the spear of Redhorn, and it gave him an unfair advantage. However, he would take no chances this day. He swung from behind his back a long tube of smooth metal, its back end displaying the fins of a rocket. Something to soften the beast before it lunged at him. Something to give him an easier target when he finally struck.
The hero then did something that baffled the monster. He turned his back on it and sat on the dirt, his legs crossed beneath him. The behemoth was not a thing endowed with a great measure of intelligence, but what little it had sung of hidden intent on seeing such a careless move. It roared with a sound fit to crack mountains and sunder kingdoms, seeking to intimidate the hero into some sort of action. But he remained still, his back turned. Fury rising within it, the beast bellowed and swung its long arms, tearing up the ground and casting it into the sea, but still the hero was still. A cold sweat began to form upon the monster’s brow as it raged on, until slowly the man with his rocket launcher and spear turned to face it, a fiendish smile twisting his handsome features.
He raised the metal tube to his shoulder when out of the corner of his eye he saw the tip of a tail longer than worlds swinging toward him. Terror finally gripping him his gaze flickered back to the monster ahead and there he saw only satisfaction in its eyes. It had outsmarted him.
The strike blasted the roguish smile from his face and cast him far to the east. When finally he landed he saw that he had fallen atop a mound of corpses, of fallen heroes, and as his eyes closed he wondered whether he should perhaps have been nervous after all.
Submission 4 Behemoth
To anyone else the mere prospect of this project would be intimidating, no, forget
that, it would be impossible! The sheer scope of the work required, the precision, accuracy,
concentration would be beyond your average - no scratch that - beyond even the most expert
in the field. Even a genuine master of their craft would be nervous at the prospect
of the huge task ahead of him.
Caractacus Pyke sat back and breathed out a ragged breath, that he was even attempting such
a feat would, he was sure, be more than enough to finally get the respect he so richly
deserved from that stuck up, arrogant, smarty-pants Venus Jones. Then again, she probably
would not appreciate the sweat, blood, and rivers of tears that would no doubt
be involved in this undertaking.
Frankly, it would be unfair to his own genius to have her cast doubt or worse,
undeserved scorn on his efforts. No, he woud need to ensure she only saw the final glorious
completed behemoth. Slowly, he closed his eyes and saw in his mind the finished spaceship,
glinting in a the way that brand new ships do, the lines and purpose clear - a fast ship
but armed to the teeth, the kind of ship a ne'er do well would have, a man with a roguish
twinkle in his eye and a raffish air about him - definitely not a nerf herder.
Right, time to get on with this - Caractacus took a deep breath and picked up the
Revell 1/72 Millenium Falcon model, perhaps he would add a little extra charm by calling
it the Minellium Falcon.
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and that on thread with tales about a great monster, how fitting)
