[Vfw-times] story: MK Incrememntal Death

[Oren Otter]

The following story was inspired by actual events.  As many of you know,
I've not had a much better time than my fictional analogue is finding
himself in.  It just so happens, however, that a good chunk of this story
(the pumpkin scenes) are taken from a dream I had last night, which not
only lifted my spirits but left me with a sense of wonder.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, No, my Mom isn't dead.  Both of my
parents are alive and well in Julesburg Colorado.  The last scene has been
added purely for the sake of MK Oren's well being.
(Now I'm worrying about a character's well being?  Okay, call the paddywagon.)



MK
Incremental Death
by Oren Otter

	Oren cried.  He had been crying all that day, and into the night.  Vitra
had done all that she could to comfort him.  Now, in the form of a little
lutrine girl, Oren sat in the weasel's lap as she slowly rocked back and
forth, churring softly and cuddling her in a motherly way.
	"It's so unfair." Oren moaned between gasps.  "Ana is gone, after I tried
so hard to save her!  My homeland is gone.  Everybody in the keep hates me.
 Why? WHY!"  Oren's body stiffened and tightened as she fought the rage
building inside at the injustice of it all.  Vitra simply waited patiently
and continued to comfort her friend.
	"I'm a failure." said Oren.  "I'm a failure and a fool and a hideous freak
and I hate everything that I am!"
	Having already used up her arguements, Vitra remained silent.
	As she sat there, hating herself, Oren slowly slipped into uneasy slumber.

	* * *

	The air around Hipocc was warm and fresh.  It had been a long time since
Oren had been here.  There had not even been a Hipocc since the days of his
youth.  Now, he walked with a cane much of the time, though seldom in
public.  It was a joy to see his homeland again.
	And up ahead, there was his parents' house.  Dodging a pair of young
mouse-children, he crossed the street to the yard.
	"Good heavens, what have they done to their landscaping?" said the elderly
otter.  On either side of him were what he could only assume were meant to
be trees.  They looked more like scruffy trunks, devoid of leaves or even
branches.  But the biggest surprise of all was the pumpkin which sat out in
the side yard.  It was enormous, standing a good six feet tall.  Oren was
about to investigate this when Vitra materialized next to him in a
shimmering pillar of light. She carried a purple crayon under one arm and
held a sandbag next to her ear.  "I just got a call from our daughters."
she said.  "There's a problem with my brother and the leopards all have the
flu."
	With a deep sigh, Oren asked her to signal for a beam-up and disappeared
into a realm of nonsense.

	* * *

	In the real world, it was two in the morning.  However, in the realm of
dreams, time has no meaning.  Oren had returned from a successful campaign
in the east where he and his children brought peace to the lutins and
monsters.  Now, once again, he found himself standing in his parents' yard.
	Those trees still looked ugly, and that pumpkin... it was rotting.  It
looked terrible, and smelled even worse.  "Why?" Oren asked.  "Why are they
leaving this thing here where people can SEE it?"  He went inside in search
of answers.
	With each step Oren took toward the house, Oren felt himself shrinking.
He was becoming younger.  By the time he was through the kitchen, his
clothing began to drag on the ground.  As he extricated himself, he looked
up to see his mother waiting there with a frilly pink dress.
	Silently, he allowed the dress to be placed on him.  "Who's a good girl,
then?" his mother cooed.  His father entered the room and said "There's my
little pumpkin!"
	"I'm not a girl." said Oren.  "I'm not a girl, I'm a man!  I'm a man!"
Angrily, he tore the dress away, and stood there, fully grown and naked.
	"We understand, son." said his mother.  "But if you're a man, then you
will need a wife."
	Into the room stepped a woman in a green wedding gown.  She was beautiful,
except that her face was that of a monster.  Placing his hands on her head,
Oren pulled the face away.  It was nothing but a mask, and behind it, a
beautiful weasel gazed back at him.
	Outside, an army of metal people were calling to Oren.  He told his new
bride that he would return, and once again dashed away into an adventure
that had no meaning.

	* * *

	Peanut butter was all it took to save the metal men.  Then, once again,
Oren found himself in his parents' yard.  The trees... they were still
ugly, but some leaves were showing.  They held promise.
	But that pumpkin!  Now it had become so rotten that it was full of holes!
"Why didn't they throw this away?" Oren grumbled as he hobbled over on his
cane.  As he approached, his disgust slowly gave way to wonder.  Inside the
giant squash, he could see green.  It wasn't a moldy green, but the green
that only a healthy, strong plant could possess.  It seemed that the seeds
within the vegetable had taken root.  The old otter looked through one of
the holes.
	He couldn't believe what he saw.
	There, within the pumpkin, was a beautiful garden filled with colorful
flowers, sumptuous fruits, fragrant herbs, flowing vines and even
masterfully sculpted arborita and trellises.  A strange transformation was
happening as the pumpkin died.  When the original object was gone, what was
left would be a feast for the senses in which his parents would take great
pride and immeasurable joy.  Eager to help the garden to emerge, Oren began
to circle the rotting fruit, punching holes in the shell with the end of
his cane.  After the first few times, however, his cane began to bend.
	"Why is it doing that?" Oren asked no one in particular.
	"It's not yet time." said his mother's voice behind him.
	"What do you mean?"
	"The change will finish soon enough.  The pumpkin isn't quite finished
changing."
	"But it's so beautiful inside."
	"My son, the one who created you must surely be restraining himself from
punching in your shell to let the beauty and wonder within emerge."
	"What?"
	"Oren, it's not for no reason that your father called you his pumpkin.
This is you!"
	Oren simply stared.
	"You've been asking why you have to suffer so much.  Well this is why.
There is so much beauty inside you, my son.  But it takes pain and hardship
to change you from what you were into what you're going to be.  Metamor
Keep has made you concentrate of the changes of the body.  You haven't
looked at the changes of the soul."
	A sudden lucidness came over Oren.  "Wait a minute!  This is wrong!
Hipocc is gone.  It's gone and you're... Mom, you're... dead!"
	"No, Son.  I'm not.  Well, in the conventional sense, I suppose.  My shell
has been discarded for good."
	"I'm dreaming, aren't I?  Mom, I don't want to wake up!  I don't want you
to go!"
	"It's okay, Oren!"  She reached out and placed her hand on his chest.
"I'll be right here with you until your time comes.  Sawana sends her love,
and she wants you to know that she's all right now."
	Oren began to weep as his mothers words began to sound hollow and far away.

	* * *

	"It's okay, Oren.  I'm right here."
	"Mommy?"  The otter's eyes fluttered open to see his weasel's beautiful,
kindly face.
	"No, Oren.  It is just me.  I think you were having nightmare."
	"Just the opposite.  Vitra, it was wonderful.  I learned something very
important."
	Sitting up on the edge of his bed, Oren proceeded to tell Vitra all about
his dream, being sure not to leave out the part about needing a wife.
	That day, Oren got on with the rest of his life, secure in the knowledge
that even though his life seemed at times to be little more than
incremental death, it was producing something beautiful, which someday, the
whole world would see.
	And the first thing he did was to make sure he would have a wife to help
him get through it.


-Oren the Otter
8=-3
tlhaQ biQ Ha'DIbaH
The Changing Workplace: http://www.geocities.com/duster_skunk/strips.htm