The monster and its soldier

Nillasi LIYANAGE

Once upon a time, when the hills were not as young as they once were, a kingdom thrived at the edge of the land facing the blue ocean. The householders domiciled in the heart of the kingdom were prosperous and lived in comfort offered by the newest science and knowledge.

They did not bother to be thrifty and sparing, but chose to dispose the evidence of their wastefulness. Each day everyone had a pile of this and that they deemed unwanted. Twice a week, these were stowed into black bags and left outside their mowed lawns and shiny gates, before they left for the day’s work.

Every day, dark green trucks, as hideous as dragons, appeared from somewhere they never bothered to ascertain, claimed these bags and compressed them to fit into their bellies. They left only a trail of foul saliva that trickled after them, mapping the route to their lair. Neither Knights in shining armour nor anyone in armoured car escorts bothered to follow them.

The lair was hidden away among the dwellings of the lesser beings, on land claimed from them. The green trucks dumped the contents of their bellies on this land, feeding the Monster that rested there. Fed with waste the Monster grew stronger and taller by the day. Finally it could be seen at sea, obscuring from view the ancient sacred mountain in the middle of the kingdom.

Foul juices emerged from underneath the Monster and explosions within its bulk issued suffocating smoke. Against these obnoxious soldiers the lesser beings could raise but a feeble opposition. Their land died, dragging their lives along with it into the abyss. Only the fierce noon day sun could blanch the Monster and send its soldiers scuttling away, before they made their way towards the heart of the kingdom.

The time passed and several moons later the season of cold approached the kingdom. The days became shorter and the nights longer, darker and colder. The ritual of the green trucks continued ceaselessly, and the lair could not contain the Monster anymore.

The feeble sunlight of the colder season could not reach the depths of the lair as the summer sun had used to. The Monster stirred and its spoor wafted away towards the centre of the kingdom.

At first, only those who ventured out into their lawns at night caught the faint spoor wafting in. Even at the darkest hour it was just a tingling whiff. Then, those who woke at the crack of dawn detected it after opening their doors and windows.

They did not, in any way, expect it to last longer than a day or two. But linger it did, and they kept their doors and windows closed. Soon everyone realized that the cold and the dark were bringing an unwelcome force along with it.

Each day the sunlight weakened and the Monster’s army claimed a mile. The spoor ruled much of the night and it could be felt even at midday as a tingling in one’s nostrils. The householders kept their doors and windows barred but did not seek a warrior or any other being who could fight the menace. No one declared the truth for fear of being entrusted with the loathsome task.

As the Earth neared the farthest reach of its elliptical orbit, the spoor made bold to sneak in under the barred doors and through the window cracks. Still, reassurances were given at midday that the time and the danger, if it could be called that, would pass as gradually as it had come. However, at the darkest hours of the night the spoor was strengthening and forming into a hazy figure, who knocked and rattled at each crack and niche. Still word was murmured that the menace would pass.

The Earth gained the farthest reach of its orbit and the day was the darkest and coldest of the twelvemonth. If anything is to happen it would, at midnight on this day; learned men declared. But midnight came and passed and the hazy figure could only rattle and moan as it had done before. The householders returned to their beds, having endured their worst fear.

There were only a few hours to the crack of dawn when the spoor metamorphosed into a soldier. It forced each door and entered, not afraid of being heard. Wood splintered and glass cracked. No householder could discern its features, against the tightening force of the nailed boot that it thrust into their chest.

As the eerie creaking of beds ceased, the soldier roamed free in each house. The still bodies would start the rot that would take place with the impending arrival of the Monster. They would welcome their own garbage and aid the invasion of all breathing things.

(This fairy tale which ends in horror is not totally imagined. It is a very real possibility associated with overflowing garbage dumps which are neglected during the remediable period.)