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Indolandia (standard:Suspense, 620 words)
Author: jopoguerreroAdded: Jun 27 2008Views/Reads: 2169/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
indolence
 



Indolandia 

Amelio swung the door open as the ruthless knockings threatened to tear
down his shack. But besides the thick fog and the syrupy night, he 
found no one, or nothing, at his doorstep. 

“Damned ghouls,” he spat. “They are disturbing my sleep again.” 

Amelio is a son of the warrior-god Irinian. He inherited from his father
the unpleasant task of protecting the mortal world from the nuisances 
of dark immortals. Sometimes, the spirits he had crushed try to get 
even by hurling cheap irritants at him. 

As he motioned to close the door, the fog slid into his house and
shrilled like a chorus of tortured souls. “Oh please help us,” the fog 
cried. “Please rescue Indolandia!” 

Amelio quickly grabbed a spiked iron ball mace resting on his wall. But
an unusual weight pressed down his shoulders as he swayed the weapon to 
a fighting mode. Suddenly, the darkness sucked him into a nightmarish 
unconsciousness while phantoms of uselessness and irrelevance tried to 
pull every fiber of his being. 

Amelio woke up in a place unknown to him. It was like a world of dead
sunflowers – battered, wilted, wasted. 

Despite his aching muscles and heavy head, he readied the weapon in his
hand. 

All of the sudden, the flaccid sunflowers glowered at him and maniacally
screamed. “Amelio, son of the great Irinian, help us!” 

Startled, Amelio gripped his weapon. “Who are you? Where am I? Better
not do anything funny, or I'll chew your cursed spirits into pieces!” 

“We are Indolandians and you are in our dying home!” the flowers
answered. “Please help us! Ramporma is consuming our land down to its 
last bits!” 

“Ramporma?” Amelio muttered as he felt an increasing pain in his limbs.
“The god of ineptitude?” 

“Yes,” the flowers cried in unison. “And he has already reduced most of
us into breathing cadavers.” 

“Look, there he is now!” they shifted tensely. “He is poised to consume
the spirits of our remaining active plot!” 

As he trained his eyes to the direction, Amelio saw Ramporma – an obese
white dwarf who sported a seemingly eternal giggle. 

The god of ineptitude was inching toward the last row of buds. His evil
eyes glimmered as he drooled for the last of the Indolandians. 

Amelio realized that he had to act fast. And he knew exactly what to do.


Summoning back his strength, he wildly swished his mace on the air. Then
he rapidly commenced on pounding and smashing and trashing on the 
wilted sunflowers – blackened leaves, stems, heads and florets flew in 
all directions with Amelio's sweat and tears. The spiritless flowers 
shrieked and cried and pleaded, but he continued on reducing them into 
pieces. 

As Amelio stomped on the last withered flower, a dark cloud formed above
Ramporma and gobbled up the god of ineptitude into nothingness. After a 
few seconds, brightness swept across Indolandia which especially shone 
on the remaining sunflower buds. 

By the stories he heard from his father, Amelio learned about Ramporma.
The god of ineptitude lives where incompetence thrives, and the only 
way to get rid of him is to destroy the plots that fed him his power. 

Amelio had to destroy the sunflowers that were already conquered by
Ramporma – thus, saving the still untouched buds. 

With the light regained, Amelio saw the direction toward his own place.
But before he could start heading home, a bud wriggled and innocently 
spoke. 

“What happened? How did you defeat Ramporma? What happened to the wilted
sunflowers?” asked the bud. 

Amelio smiled. “Well child, your withered ascendants died so that you
may live. Grow up and honor their sacrifice by making yourself useful 
to the world.” 

“I will, Sir...I will”, the bud whispered with a tearful smile. 


   


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