08/23/2020
Franklin
Chapter 1
Cold. The sky and this world were nothing more or less than this to Franklin. Not much to say about an atmosphere you really can’t see much more than feel, he would think. A bluish haze or some sort of fog that glowed to his night vision ever so slightly lay over an ever-changing surface of rolling aggregate. He took another shakey step, one of thousands if not millions that he had taken. The surface moved under his feet as he walked. It was not that he was weak or that he lacked balance - quite the opposite, every step was shakey here; it was the way one had to walk to compensate for the environment. The fickle breeze hit his worn and leathery face as crystals of silicate pricked at his skin.
Franklin was a tall man for his time and wore his age well; at least, this is what he told himself. All he really knew was that he had been here a very long time and that he was going to be here for a long time. Since he really didn’t know how he looked, he often pondered it.
“Maybe I have the look of an old wise man,” he often thought, but then he would turn the self conversation around on himself . “No, I’m not old or wise looking. I have huge facial features and am very young,” he would laugh aloud, the thought of having a big nose making him laugh the most.
He took a long breath and exhaled a thick cloud of water v***r. He stopped for a second to watch as his breath floated away and became thinner and thinner. He came out of his trance; his feet had already begun to sink - one could not stop here. Although Franklin knew faintly what tired was, he no longer understood it. It was a far away memory that he pushed to the back of his mind - he could not feel tired anymore, so the thought confused him; in response, he did not think about it.
As Franklin walked, he thought about many things. What was he doing here? What was this place that he was in? Is there meaning to what I’m doing? A purpose? A meaning to my life? These questions went unanswered. He could talk, but who was there to talk to? Maybe someone was watching him and would think it strange of him to talk too much. He stumbled and fell over, quickly getting back up to his feet so that the sand would not cover him; it had before.
It wasn't that he couldn't see, more that it didn't matter; everything was constantly changing without end or rest. The landscape showed no helpful details for him to go by, and so he worked without his eyes. He didn't know color from shade anymore. He thought he had at one point. Every once in a while, a word such as ‘orange’ would pop into his head, and he would think about it. Then, he would become irritated coming across the words ‘fruit’ and ‘color’ while he was at it and put it far to the back of his mind because he no longer understood. Everything had been - and was going to be - quite literally a blur.
Overhead, the sky changed from the usual shade of greyish-blue to an unusual shade of green; the bright ribbons flashed across the sky, breaking and bleeding off residues of dark purples, reds, and violets. Franklin didn’t notice; he trudged on. The ionizing radiation flashed and lit up the corners of the horizon. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the light vanished.
Far in the distance, the dunes dropped into an abyss, just to have another dune fill its place.The quake rushed through the ground, and it moved underneath his feet like a wave of liquified carpet. He had become accustomed to these “quakes” and had learned how to surf them to a point. He turned to his side, bracing for the aftershock. As it approached, he let the wave of the dune come to him. Putting his spread out hand onto the surface, one foot behind the other, he let the flow of the sand bring him to his next destination, like riding a riptide out to sea. His hands were wrapped in leather gloves that had worn fingertips that his fingers protruded from. This bothered him, so he had ripped the fingers off of the gloves. His jacket too, was leather with frayed and torn edges. He used this as a shield against the rough breezes that tore at the skin.
Every once in a while, Franklin would find something in the dunes. An object peeking out of the sand would make him curious and cause him to investigate. He had found many things: trinkets, like action figures, nails, small tools, little odds and ends, plastics, and woods. But most of the time, the items were not worth keeping,save for a few: the gloves, for instance, and a pair of boots with their laces tied together for some odd reason, but his favorite items included a small, brass dagger and a small, leather pouch filled with shiny coins. He thought he might be able to see his face in these, but it was always too dark, and the light that did hit it bounced off at random. But overall, his most treasured item was a small book that he had found on the same day he found himself in this place. At least, he thought.
Clank. The sound reverberated at just the right frequency - the sound of cold metal… clang -clang, clang-clang. Franklin breathed in the cool air that had a taste of salt maybe? The hairs on his neck stood on end. There was another sound. A bird? A thumping noise: damp wood...and little feet.
“ Daddy?” A little boy said, “ Are you coming home?”
The boy was short with blonde, scraggly-grown hair flat and almost down to his ears. He looked up with big, blue eyes. He wore a red striped shirt with jeans. The little boy was clear as day.“ Daddy?” The little boy asked again; the little boy’s face changed quickly to a dark saddened. almost frightened, look.” Don’t let them take you again!” He whimpered.
Franklin took a sharp intake of breath. “ What?” He questioned nobody. He began to cry. “ Where did you go?”
He didn’t know why he was crying, but he did know he was unbelievably sad, he was over come with fear, sorrow, and even anger. But, most of all, he felt like he had lost something, something priceless.
“Come back!” He screamed at the dunes. He was already knee-deep into the sand. “Where are you? Come back!” His tears became torrents from his eyes, and he couldn’t see. He began to bash at the sand, kicking and turning and hitting the nothing. He became enraged and screamed to the heavens. “Bring him back, please!” he begged. “ I’m sorry! I-Am-Sorry!” He bawled. “ Please forgive me.” He cried. He tried to rip at the sands, throwing it behind him as he went. He had already freed himself, but he couldn’t stop! He couldn't fight back the tears. He would dig through this entire world to find this boy. He screamed again and again and again, until his voice was hoarse, and finally, his voice ceased, reduced to a sad croak of exhaled air. His hands were bleeding, knuckles destroyed; he slammed his hands into the ground. Clank.
He closed his eyes and began to sniffle. “W-w-what?” he whimpered aloud in his now-ghostly and raspy voice. It was all he could do not to go back to his fit of emotions, focusing on his curiosity. With a shaky hand, he brushed away the sand and dust, leaving behind streaks of blood and grime on a smooth, metal surface. He began to dig around the object, pulling up muddy piles of blood-stained sand. The object was made of brass, a sphere-like structure that fit perfectly in his hand. The diameter was about the distance between the tip of his pinky to the start of his thumb. The sphere, as it were, was composed of several layers of rings, domes, and several other spherical cuts all suspended and evenly spaced on rods. The rods themselves - and the rings, for that matter - were covered with gears and cogs that connected all over the intricate device. In the center, wrapped with its own set of gears, was a small rock or chunk of metal cut into a dodecahedron; the shape was darker than the rest of the sphere. At the very bottom on the inner side of the last layer was a glass encased pocket of fluid that held a small, metal needle that swayed this way and that. ‘Compass’ was the word that came to mind, although he did not know why. Surrounding this was its own ring of a gear that had strange symbols pressed into it. Franklin continued to examine the object, turning it upside down and jiggling the pieces that would move. On the outermost space of the sphere were three sturdy pins that were suspended on seperate tracks, and on the underside of the orb opposite the compass was a small nob about the width of his thumb, and engraved into it was the word ‘something’.
Franklin was confused, but he was also quite a curious person and the object had just peaked his interest. He trudged on through the vast wasteland of cascading matter and indulged in what this object could possibly be. Was this some sort of toy? Maybe a tool of some sort? Overall, Franklin had no clue. He didn’t know what a compass was, but he thought he had at one point. He watched as the needles spun aimlessly. Over time, he pricked away at the gears with whatever he could find, being as gentle as possible. Eventually, he freed all of the granules jamming the gears. He was pleased with himself and had a small sense of accomplishment, although he couldn’t keep the haunting thought of the young boy’s face out of his mind. He began to toss his work back and forth between his hands. It had a pleasant weight to it.
Click.
He looked down at the small device in his hand, one of the pins had shot through to the center of the sphere. He contemplated this for quite a while and even stopped walking to get a better look at what had happened. He was certain it had not been that way before.
“Had the pin moved by itself?” he marveled.
As he was studying the object, something odd happened. The small needle that he had given the name of ‘compass’ to had stopped moving quite suddenly, as if something had caught it. Franklin’s jaw dropped; he was far above astonished, and he did not believe his eyes. Nothing ever stopped in this place. This was the one thing that he had come to understand. He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. When he looked again, the needle was still unmoving. In awe, he turned his body, watching the orb. The orb itself moved with him as expected, but the needle was steadfast. It was as if someone had tied an invisible string to it and was pulling with all their might. The idea then came to him.
“I should follow it.” A grin filled his face as he began to walk, following the direction of the farthest end of the needle. Franklin began to walk again, freeing himself from the sand that was now up to his shins. Click. Another pin had fallen into place. He jumped, startled by the unusual noise. Looking down, he tilted his head and squinted at the device in confusion. Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick Pop-tick-Pop-tick. The device began to move, the outer rings shifting until, finally: Click. The third and final pin fell through the multilayered sphere, meeting the other two at the strange rock at the center of the device. The orb began to click, tick, pop, and spin uncontrollably. Then, all of the intricate gears stopped, and all of the pins popped out of the center back to their original positions. Franklin looked closely at the device again. The small symbols on the outer edge of the compass had moved.
“But what does it mean?” he pondered as he studied it more closely. He did recognize one of the symbols. It was an arrow, and it was now lined up with the needle and the way he was going; he knew what he had to do.
Thrilling! This was the most excitement that Franklin had felt in a very long time. “Where is it leading me?” he wondered. He did stumble over the thought that it may not be going anywhere at all, but he pushed this out of his mind. Somehow, he knew... he knew this would take him to the right place. This will take him to that boy. This would take him home.
The dunes changed color. He didn't know how he knew this, but he did, and Franklin was all the more excited for it. The glint of the particles were duller, and the atmosphere turned and he could feel it push on his skin; the air felt thick, and he liked it. He walked for quite a while more; the dune began to take less and less hold of his feet. His steps became unsteady, and he fell over the Sands... he thought to himself, “They aren’t moving.” Franklin was overjoyed; he leapt to his feet and began to run and jump. He danced and cried tears of joy. This had never happened before. Franklin walked, sprinted, and jogged. He ran and danced and found himself praising - he didn't know who or what, but he let his raspy voice sing to the Atmosphere, to whatever had led him here. His joints became weak, but he kept walking and following the way the small orb was leading him. His eyes began to sting, but he kept walking. His walking became a drag, and his eyes drooped.
“What is this?” he managed to slur out before dropping to his knees. “Why?” he slumped and dropped the small sphere next to him. His vision blurred,
“Rest and find your strength,” he heard a small, quiet voice say. He saw the outline of something in the distance, something green and bright and if he wasn't mistaken the shape of something he had not seen in an eternity. “Who?” he stuttered the silhouette of a man stood in front of the light
“Come when you're ready.”
He could feel the words in the man's message to him. The silhouette turned and went into the green light. Franklin's eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
