The Sentient Castrum That Once Protected the Octopoids Now Has Nothing But Time

The Nimbus came again and breathed a biting cold against my façade. The array of wintry daggers reminded me of the great yesterdays of when I was a castle. The magnificent days. The brighter and lighter days. The days when the royal Octopoids I housed ruled over a gorgeous, desolate moon. I served them with patience, with sturdiness. I served them until The Pulse took place; the bursting wave that bent all things out of shape. As a castle I was helpless. I was stripped bare and mauled by The Pulse. I was violated by a happening with no face, by a massive tear in time. My rocky frontage was gone for the most part, though I maintained a strong expression on the left-hand side, the side that allowed me to visualize. Over centuries I saw all things fall, and for years and now I rot and freeze and watch.

I watch the Lonely Time Traveler from Afar. He stands in the same spot, trapped in the atmosphere of The Nimbus. There once was a time when he moved around slowly. He was a victim of The Pulse, a humanoid displaced out of time. Before he froze he attempted humor. And now he stands unmoving next to a garish time-displaced vehicle and it looks very poignant from a distance.

The gaudy auto came moments after the Lonely Time Traveler from Afar arrived on my moon. It came covered in filth and an air of excesses. It wasn’t sentient, either. It couldn’t communicate, and this depressed me. It became a toy for the surviving Octopoid.

The Octopoid that survived was formerly an Urchin, a small one without a family. She lived inside of me for months. I did my best to keep her small and slippery form warm, and when we felt The Pulse I did all I could to protect her, meaning that I couldn’t do much at all. She was the lone survivor and I watched her as I rotted and froze, watched her grow in size but not adulthood. She never had the chance to come of age. There was no one alive to teach her, to communicate with her. I watched her play with the lurid transporter and slide close to The Lonely Time Traveler from Afar. She still knows nothing other than physical pleasures and hunger.

I watch all of this from afar and do nothing, because I have nothing but time.

The Old Kingdom Is Not An Anomaly

The Household’s façade was dour except for its Bionicrustacean legs. It traveled to the rhythm of its own surly and sullen personality, which usually meant westward. It traversed only over the green rock formations of the Old Kingdom, typically near the Lake of Liquid Girls. When people first see The Household perambulating over the rocks on its white, crab-like Bionicrustacean legs near the Lake of Liquid Girls, the first thing they usually ask is:

“Who the heck lives inside of that super-ultra-mega sad thing?!”

It is a silly question. It’s also the wrong question to ask. They should be asking:

Who is that Very Depressed Walking House that mainly walks over the green rock formations of the Old Kingdom, typically near the Lake of Liquid Girls?”

The Household is not a home. It’s not a house at all. It is a living, un-breathing thing with a neurotic personality, windows for eyes, a unique pathos and white, crab-like Bionicrustacean legs.

It only strolls over the green rock formations of the Old Kingdom, typically near the Lake of Liquid Girls, because The Household thinks there is a party there. There is a never a party going on near the Lake of Liquid Girls. This is because the Liquid Girls are too busy trying on new brand new viscid clothes that were gifted to them from Father Time of the Brown Sky. The clothes were made from the finest hot gelatin in the Old Kingdom. Father Time of the Brown Sky only wanted the absolute best for his Liquid Girls.

It should be said, though, that Father Time of the Brown Sky did not father the Liquid Girls of the Lake. He claims that the Girls “were just there”.

“I just enjoy seeing them smile” he liked to bellow.

He sounded slightly like a pederast.

Is this why The Household is always in a bad mood? Is it because he thinks there’s a party over by the Lake of Liquid Girls when there’s actually just an eternal, arguably unexciting game of dress-up going on? It could be.

Is it because he secretly wants Father Time of the Brown Sky to give him a special gift? Does The Household want Father Time to accept him as he is, as a living, un-breathing thing with a neurotic personality, windows for eyes, a unique pathos and white, crab-like Bionicrustacean legs? It could be.

It quite possibly could be.

Oh, I think he’s spotted us. Look! Look at him scurry away! Look at his giant Bionicrustacean legs! Oh, that poor little-big walking house. He’s miserable, isn’t he?

Ah, well now! There’re viscid trousers dripping from out of Father Time’s mouth!

Let’s try on a few pairs, shall we?

The Happiest Family

Mother Mole, now a ghost, was the mother of The Happiest Family. She had two male sons and no male counterpart. Her first son she chose not to name because her love for him was only a small amount. He was known to most as the Four-Eyed Pumpkin Head Boy. His skull was a pumpkin, his brain a mushy orange pulp.

He had two eyebrows and two sets of eyes. The top eyes were shaped like less than/greater than symbols; the left eye, less-than, the right, greater-than. They were used primarily for prejudice and postjudice. His second pair of eyes were parentheses that enclosed his triangular nose. His parenthesis-eyes were used mostly for deep thinking.

He died in 1994 on Halloween; he lived to be seven years old.

Mother Mole's other son was called Alfred. He was younger than the Four-Eyed Pumpkin Head Boy, and wished he were a map. He was named after Mother Mole's gynecologist.

Alfred's face was flat and simple, like the work of a sad Cubist. He prayed every night to his god, the God of Cartography. "Please, God. Please, please stretch my face out and make it feel like paper. Turn my wrinkles into rivers, and my eye-area into a capital (Bratislava, preferably).”

He loved his older brother dearly. He didn't look up to him, though; he just had a perpetually cavernous affection towards him.

In 1994, the year of his brother's death, Alfred became filled with grief and ran away from home. All he brought with him was a can of green beans and a compass. This compass was a special compass, though; it was gift from God, he thought. He'd grabbed it after it had fell out of a tree near his home one day. He was convinced that the God of Cartography tossed it to him with a behind the back pass, which then landed on top of a tree, and then tumbled down to the ground right next to his house. "It's a sign!" he screamed into the wall; he had just watched six hours worth of behind the back basketball passes on Youtube, so the compass falling out of the tree onto the ground was obviously a behind the back pass from God.

Alfred took his special compass, his can of green beans, and went to the nearest Kinkos. He walked swiftly, and was panting and bawling by the time he'd made it to the entrance. He walked into the store, slammed his green beans down onto the front counter and demanded to the clerk that he be flattened and turned into a papery image of the Eastern Hemisphere. He also made it clear that Bratislava was to be clearly visible as a star on the right side of his face, atop his orbital bone. The clerk starred at him, breathing heavily.

"What are you waiting for?! Make me into a map! An old-styled map, like one from the 1970s! I'm a grieving boy, for Christmas' sake!"

The clerk stuck his arm out over the counter and let it wave in front of Alfred's face. His arm was a tentacle. Alfred was frightened. "I'm sor-"

The tentacle clung to his face and dragged him forcefully over the counter. The thirteen employees swimming under the counter then devoured him. After they'd finished their lunch, the main counter clerk said to his employees, "I now have a strange urge to go somewhere."

Mother Mole didn't realize she'd lost both of her sons until two and a half weeks later. When she learned of their respective deaths, she didn't cry. She wasn't sad. She was liberated. She was inspired. Right before she went to bed, though, she sat down and wrote a short story about them.