Author Topic: The Death of Urokmas / Short Story / 1382 Words  (Read 57 times)

Offline Cliff Sombito

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 20
  • A newbie writer... A nobody...
The Death of Urokmas / Short Story / 1382 Words
« on: February 13, 2021, 10:09:03 AM »
Here is a short story with surrealistic elements and this is the first draft:


# The Death of Urokmas


To live in Urokmas, a city of smoke and ash, people must smoke tobacco at all times whenever they are out of their homes, even children at the early age of 5 must learn to smoke if they ever want to go outside. Those who don't follow the rules will be taken by the police to a dark pit that has a strong smell of sulfur where they will spend 144 hours— it's the policy there, a safety measure if you ask the mayor. Although the people there smoke at all the time, they don't even have respiratory health problems because the smoke that they inhale exits through the hole the size of a fist at the center of their chests, they don't seem to have lungs or need one in order to live.

And they have a factory that funnels out smoke regularly throughout the city, that way the smoke production capability of the city is at 98 percent in which about 23 percent of the contribution is from natural smokers. The smoke just never stops, perhaps it's their lifeline, however it darkens the place a bit.

The only thing that gives them light is the great glowing viscus in the sky, shining a pink light over them as it slowly throbs and acting like the sun but it never rises nor sets. Thus the Urokmasons doesn't need sleep and their lifestyle is akin to a junky, mostly what they do with their free time is stare blankly at a wall or any background, smoke coming out of their nostrils, mouth and chest hole.

One particular day —or moment because it's always daytime in Urokmas—, the smoke is gradually rising as usual, the buildings are grey with ashes and some of its windows are flashing from a defective indoor lighting, and only a few Urokmasons are out of their homes. Beside the city, the leafless trees are secreting liquid the color of amber from their limbs and below them are the burning bodies of plastic dolls. Some Urokmasons are dumping the plastic dolls in the forest to burn them for a religious ritual, an offering for their god who gives them eternal daylight. Out of that forest comes an old man, a stranger. He is wearing a yellow trench coat and on his head is a small cardboard box as a hat and he is pulling a cart behind him, it's full of flattened cardboard boxes of different sizes but mostly a man could fit in.

He goes to the streets, yelling out to the people his goods in a mantra which he repeats after every pause of about 2 minutes: “boxes! Get your boxes here! Only 10 pesos each.”

Most of the adult Urokmasons are just passing him by, paying no heed of what he is doing but there are two curious kids who approaches him, a boy and a girl who is wearing the same maroon jumpsuit with a dark hole in the chest, and each of their mouths are biting on a cigar, puffing a cloud of smoke. However, the face of the boy is still developing as it is distorted, the eyes are not aligned horizontally and the position of the nose is nowhere near the center. “Hello, mister,” says the girl. “What are you selling?”

“Boxes, my dear,” says the old man. “Do you want to buy one?”

“What are the boxes for?” says the boy.

“This are no ordinary boxes. It can transport you to the past or to the future when you go inside and shut yourself in. It's a time machine, wanna try?”

“Yeah, let's do it.”

“Don't do it, Mikel. I feel something bad will happen,” says the girl.

The boy ignores his sister as he is full of excitement, wonder and imagination. Seeing her brother like that, the girl succumb into silence.

“Worry not my dear, just trust me,” says the old man as he sets up a cardboard box on the pavement. Then he ties a nylon string in two pieces of wooden sticks to connect them and punctures a hole in both sides of the cardboard box where he inserts the wooden sticks from inside and the nylon string tightens in the middle. “The contraption is done. Boy, you can now enter.”

The boy enters the box. He sits and stretches his legs underneath the nylon string and says: “ok, what's next?”

“When I close the box and you are ready, you must touch the string and say the magic words: mirror, show me the lion's teeth. Repeat it,” urge the old man.

“Mirror, show me the lion's teeth.”

“You got it,” says the old man as he closes the box.

After the boy says the magic words, both the old man and the girl are frozen to their places. Then poof! And the top of the box bursts open with glitters. The girl quickly takes a peek only to find a bloody fetus inside and she becomes confused, takes a glance at the old man and the bloody fetus back and forth. When she receives no answer, she let out a deafening scream, the Urokmasons upon hearing her gathers around them as well as the police. However, with all the commotion going on, it seems it doesn't affect the old man. He looks calm and he keeps on smiling and he says to the girl: “I have send him to meet God.”

“Bring him back, I need my brother!” the girl cries and points a finger at the box. “Look, look— he turned my brother into a red puppy.”

The onlookers take a peek and gasps at what they see. Each one of them starts whispering to their companions about abortion and the Law of Urokmas.

“That's clearly a violation of Code 64: Practice of Alchemy On Nonexperimental Subjects,” chimes in a fat policeman with a round body. “Do you have a permit for those boxes?”

“No,” says the old man.

“Then you also violated Code 119: Distribution of Unapproved Items,” says the thin policeman who is like a walking stick. Then the two policeman takes out a magical fork from their belts, it conducts high-voltage electricity on its tips and they point it at the old man. “Would you please step away from the child and the box and walk backwards toward us.”

The old man follows willingly and they cuff him, he doesn't even resists but when the fat policeman tries to reach the small cardboard box on his head, he panics and says: “please, don't take my hat. It's my only treasure.”

“You don't get it, do you? You are a law-breaker, and you have no rights. We will confiscate all your boxes and offer them as burnt offering to our god,” says the fat policeman. “And no more boxes in Urokmas.”

Then the fat policeman grabs the small cardboard box on the old man's head wherein the old man shouts and tries to keep his hat on but the fat policeman prevails as he has more strength than the old man. And disaster happens.

An angry whirlwind is let loose from the old man's scalps, and it gets bigger and bigger until it becomes a tornado that engulfs the whole city of Urokmas: sucking the inhabitants who are out of their homes as well as the cars and trees and any objects that tethers not to the ground, wiping all accumulation of smoke, and destroying the smoke producing factory. The tornado subsides but with no more smoke in Urokmas, a gigantic black wolf as big as a mountain comes and devours the great glowing viscus in the sky, and with the absence of the pink light, all but a few Urokmasons who are still alive falls lifeless to where they are like a machine that has been switched off— thus, the death of Urokmas. The only survivor is the old man.



Offline Cliff Sombito

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 20
  • A newbie writer... A nobody...
Re: The Death of Urokmas / Short Story / 1382 Words
« Reply #1 on: February 14, 2021, 09:46:32 PM »
Seeing that there is so much grammar mistakes in the first draft, I made a second draft, here it is:


# The Death of Urokmas


To live in Urokmas, a city of smoke and ash, people must smoke tobacco at all times whenever they are out of their homes, even children at the early age of 5 must learn to smoke if they ever want to go outside. Those who don't follow the rules will be taken by the police to a dark pit that has a strong smell of sulfur where they will spend 144 hours. It's the policy there, a safety measure if you ask the mayor. Although the people there smoke at all the time, they don't even have respiratory health problems because the smoke that they inhale exits through the hole the size of a fist at the center of their chests, they don't seem to have lungs or need one in order to live.

And they have a factory that funnels out smoke regularly throughout the city, that way the smoke production capability of the city is at 98 percent in which about 23 percent of the contribution is from natural smokers. The smoke just never stops, perhaps it's their lifeline, however it darkens the place a bit.

The only thing that gives them light is the great glowing viscus in the sky, shining a pink light over them as it slowly throbs and acting like the sun but it never rises or sets. Thus the Urokmasons don't need sleep and their lifestyle is akin to a junky, mostly what they do with their free time is stare blankly at a wall or any background, smoke coming out of their nostrils, mouth and chest hole.

One particular day —or moment because it's always daytime in Urokmas—, the smoke is gradually rising as usual, the buildings are grey with ashes and some of the windows are flashing from a defective indoor lighting, and only half of the Urokmasons are out of their homes. Beside the city, the leafless trees are secreting liquid the color of amber from their limbs and below them are the burning bodies of plastic dolls. Some Urokmasons are dumping the plastic dolls in the forest to burn them for a religious ritual, an offering for their god who gives them eternal daylight. Out of that forest comes an old man, a stranger. He is wearing a yellow trench coat and on his head is a small cardboard box, his favorite hat, and he is pulling a cart behind him which is full of flattened cardboard boxes of different sizes but mostly a man could fit in.

He goes to the streets, yelling out to the people his goods in a mantra which he repeats after every pause of about 2 minutes: “boxes! Get your boxes here! Only 10 pesos each.”

Most of the adult Urokmasons are just passing him by, paying no heed of what he is doing but there are two curious kids who approaches him, a boy and a girl who is wearing the same maroon jumpsuit (all of the Urokmasons are wearing the same maroon jumpsuit except the police who dresses in navy blue uniform) with a dark hole in the chest, and each of their mouths are biting on a cigar, puffing a cloud of smoke. However, the face of the boy is distorted as if still on development stage, the eyes do not align horizontally and the position of the nose is nowhere near the center. “Hello, mister,” says the girl. “What are you selling?”

“Boxes, my dear,” says the old man. “Do you want to buy one?”

“What are the boxes for?” says the boy.

“These are no ordinary boxes. It can transport you to the past or to the future when you go inside of it and shut yourself in. It's a time machine, wanna try?”

“Yeah, let's do it.”

“Don't do it, Mikel. I feel something bad will happen,” says the girl.

The boy ignores his sister as he is full of excitement, wonder and imagination. Seeing her brother like that, the girl succumbs into silence.

“Worry not my dear, just trust me,” says the old man as he sets up a cardboard box on the pavement. Then he ties a nylon string in two pieces of wooden sticks to connect them and punctures a hole in both sides of the cardboard box where he inserts the wooden sticks from inside (it acts as a stopper) and the nylon string tightens in the middle. “The contraption is done. Boy, you can now enter.”

The boy enters the box. He sits and stretches his legs underneath the nylon string and says: “ok, what's next?”

“When I close the box and you are ready, you must touch the string and say the magic words: mirror, show me the lion's teeth. Repeat it.”

“Mirror, show me the lion's teeth.”

“You got it,” the old man closes the box.

After the boy says the magic words, both the old man and the girl are frozen to their places in anticipation. Then poof! And the top of the box bursts open with glitters. The girl quickly takes a peek only to find a bloody fetus inside and she becomes confused, glancing at the old man and the bloody fetus back and forth. When she receives no answer, she lets out a deafening scream, the Urokmasons nearby upon hearing her gather around them as well as the police. However, with all the commotion he has started, it seems it doesn't affect the old man. He looks calm and he keeps on smiling and he says to the girl: “I have sent him to meet God.”

“Bring him back, I need my brother!” the girl cries and points a finger at the box. “Look, look— he turned my brother into a red puppy.”

The onlookers take a peek and gasp at what they see. Each one of them starts whispering to their companions about abortion and the Law of Urokmas.

“That's clearly a violation of Code 64: Practice of Alchemy On Nonexperimental Subjects,” chimes in a fat policeman with a round body. “Do you have a permit for those boxes?”

“No,” says the old man.

“Then you have also violated Code 119: Distribution of Unapproved Items,” says the thin policeman who is like a walking stick. Then the two policemen take out a magical fork from their belts, sparks of high-voltage electricity can be seen on its tips and they point it at the old man. “Would you please step away from the child and the box, bring your hands up and walk backwards toward us.”

The old man follows willingly and they cuff him, he doesn't even resists but when the fat policeman tries to reach the small cardboard box on his head, he panics and says: “please, don't take my hat. It's my only treasure.”

“You don't get it, do you? You are a law-breaker, and you have no rights. We will confiscate all your boxes and turn them as burnt offerings to our god,” says the fat policeman. “And no more boxes in Urokmas.”

Then the fat policeman grabs the small cardboard box on the old man's head wherein the old man shouts and tries to keep his hat on but the fat policeman prevails as he has more strength than the old man. And disaster happens.

An angry whirlwind is let loose from the old man's scalps, and it gets bigger and bigger until it becomes a tornado that engulfs the whole city of Urokmas: sucking the inhabitants who are out of their homes as well as the cars and trees and any objects that tethers not to the ground, wiping all accumulation of smoke, and destroying the smoke producing factory. Later, the tornado subsides but with no more smoke in Urokmas, a gigantic black wolf as big as a mountain comes and devours the great glowing viscus in the sky, and with the absence of the pink light, all but half of the Urokmasons who are still alive falls lifeless to where they are like a machine that has been switched off— thus, the death of Urokmas. The only survivor is the old man.