The Artificial Revelation

• Noah Solomon, Grade 7, Trinity Anglican School -
• Short Story
• 2022

Excellence Award in the 'Summertime Fun ONLINE' competition

Prologue

The turquoise waves lashed against the charming shoreline as if an unseen force was controlling them. Streaked with white foam, the exquisite beauties curled, before slamming down onto the golden sand. Looking closer, she realised all was a trompe l'oeil; an illusion. The glittery sand was really just microplastic and glass, whilst the sea was lifeless with harmful chemicals and toxic oils. How dare they deceive her like this! With a whirl of her silver cloak, she disappeared from the false environment.


'She must be neutralised before there is a crash in the stocks!'
'She cannot be allowed to continue her sorcery', somebody else ranted.
'She is evil!'
Jerry Mobclear banged his table with a warty fist. 'Silence. There is no point shouting', Mobclear spoke, carefully enunciating his words. 'We, as the royal council, will defeat her.'

The rest of the council cheered as Mobclear held up a scroll announcing that fifty thousand silver pieces would be awarded to the captor of Blackfoot. Mobclear, who was as selfish as Scrooge, would rather not give away money, especially as it could be spent on drinks for the Moonday festivities.

When the clock struck eleven, Mobclear covered his face and manly figure with a black cape and hood. Giving his bow and arrows a final polish, he stepped out of his office and disappeared into the dark night.

Consulting his Necromantic map, Mobclear saw that the person whom he had trapped in a supposedly inescapable void, had somehow fled the secure enclosure. Magic, he thought, grinding his teeth with irritation and spite. For some reason, he sensed her proximity, so he quickened his pace, still keeping to the shadows.

Mobclear stopped suddenly. He spied his target on the opposite side of a small pool. Her hair was a free-flowing waterfall, streaked with blonde. Her cloak, shimmering like a selkie's skin, perfectly enhanced her smooth silhouette. She stood serenely on the stones, the water trickling over her bare feet. Mesmerised by her hypnotising beauty, Mobclear struggled to maintain a clear focus.

Pulling himself out of the depths of his imagination, he notched an arrow and pulled the string taut...

Blackfoot pivoted, disturbed by the unnerving vibration. Her icy stare penetrated Mobclear's pulsing organs. With a reverberating twang he let the string free and within a moment the arrow had pierced Blackfoot's porcelain skin. A blotch of red ink weaved down her face. Mobclear watched, horrified, as she began to transform. Black hairs sprouted over glowing red eyes, which invaded his thoughts, his mind, his very being, and turned him into stone. Blue marble appeared where his veins once throbbed, and two shards of obsidian replaced his eyes. The silencer had been silenced.

Her justice done, Blackfoot released her final breath and collapsed into the pond, the water developing a crimson hue.