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The Caretaker (standard:science fiction, 1131 words)
Author: Brian CrossAdded: Feb 11 2005Views/Reads: 4205/2585Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A long time ago an amulet was left by a traveller. Now, two thousand years later he comes to retrieve it.
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

nose and unsmiling mouth. A face disturbingly short of being human as I 
waited, expecting those eyes to blink. And then the heat became so 
intense I thought it might scald my hand. 

I became aware of a long shadow stretching along the path towards me and
looked up into the face engrained on the amulet. I staggered back in 
alarm before from somewhere came an incomprehensible stab of 
recognition. The vision before me, I can only describe it as that, wore 
a spangled vest and trousers of dazzling white, and seemed of 
exceptional height. 

The coastal path had been oddly deserted and I suddenly felt
encapsulated in a bubble that held me fast. The tight, straight mouth I 
stared into never opened but words flooded into me just the same, 
strange alien words that seemed to hang in the air and translate slowly 
inside me, hollow, floating on a whispering wind. 

‘Do not be afraid, I mean you no harm, but you hold something in your
hand that I lost a long time ago.' 

I was frozen with fear, too frightened to speak and yet, seemed to be
speaking just the same. 

‘From the worried depths of your mind you ask me how long – two thousand
years my friend is the answer you seek. Be calm, your fear is leaving 
you. What you now hold has called me from long and far, many light 
years have passed during my journey to collect it.' 

The figure's spangled vest rustled and the wind whispered music through
my body as I felt myself relieved of my burden; within it the voice 
spoke again, ‘When the time is right I will return once more and you 
will reap full reward for what you have done. That time approaches, it 
is almost at hand. Look to your body if you need faith, for you my 
friend are the caretaker.' 

The coastal path was vibrant with joggers and hikers, the stranger had
gone. The whole thing might never have happened – I'd never seen the 
men with the metal detectors before, I never did again. 

But engrained in the palm of my hand if you were to examine it really
closely is the face of the stranger. 

It is true. 

I am the caretaker. 


   


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Email: briancroff@yahoo.co.uk

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