Every object has a story to tell, particularly those found on the dusty shelves of Archaic Goods. Those who enter never leave empty handed, somehow they always find exactly what they need. Today would be no different.
As the sun slipped below the horizon a nondescript man creaked open the door and slipped inside. Removing his cap so that he could better look out the window allowed his shaggy blonde hair to fall free and revealed a pair of nervous looking blue eyes. He calmed his breathing as he watched the pair of thugs he was hiding from stomp down the street.
Confident that they didn’t notice him entering the store, and not wanting the fact he was hiding to be obvious, he browsed the shelves. The clutter of items made it easy to watch the window while being completely hidden from the outside. As he browsed one particular object caught his attention. It was a reddish stone which seemed to glow in the dim light. As he picked it up the proprietor cleared his throat and spoke. “That catch your eye lad? That little gem,” the old man paused to chuckle before continuing, “is called the Eye of Truth.”
“Truth? What kind of fool do you take me for? Its a paperweight!” The man blurted, his fear of the men outside adding acid to the words.
“Relax Son,” the elderly shopkeeper said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. “It’s just a name, hold it to your eye, look around, and decide for yourself”
Not having anything better to do, since the strangers were still lurking outside, he took the shopkeeper’s advice. As he moved the stone in front of his eyes, the light dimmed and the air turned smokey. Blinking in surprise, eyes watering, he realized the lights of the shop were actually flickering torches. The building was old and decaying, with a thin layer of dust everywhere. The shopkeeper was a grandfatherly old man with pale skin, white hair, and cloudy eyes. As his amazed gaze swept through the shop, observing all the details he failed to notice before, his eyes eventually fell upon the window once more. His breath caught in his throat as he saw two hideous monsters searching outside. In his shock he stumbled back, nearly dropping the stone. As it left his line of sight his vision returned to normal. The smoke cleared and instead of monsters outside he saw the shadowy outline of the two thugs from earlier.
Steeling his nerves he slowly returned the stone to his eyes. The smoky air returned and the men’s appearance twisted and warped. Their fingers stretched into vicious looking claws, their skin hardened into reddish brown scales, their eyes began to glow, and their teeth stretched into fangs. Lowering the stone and turning back to the shopkeeper, he asked, voice barely above a whisper, “What was this called again?”
The old man replied, oblivious to his shock, “I call that whimsically named paperweight The Eye of Truth. It’s yours if you want it.”
Looking at the stone in awe, his answer was obvious, “I’ll take it.”
Days past and the stone lived up to its name. In fact, the man soon found that simply carrying the stone was enough to reveal the truth of the world. The city was a hellscape of fire and rot. Trash fires, surrounded by battered people struggling to stay warm, could be seen in every ally. Rats could be seen scurrying everywhere, eating anything in sight, even gnawing on things that still moved. The sky was so dark with smog that you couldn’t tell day from night. Looking up all you could see was the occasional shadow of vultures circling overhead looking for their next meal.
Hiding from the monsters he only left his home to work and buy food. He took to wearing an old scarf to shield himself from the toxic air. When he walked the filthy streets he kept his eyes half closed and only looked at the ground directly in front of him. The sight of the oily brownish leeches squirming along the sidewalks was almost enough to make him retch. They seemed to dwell anywhere there was even a tiny bit of shelter. If that wasn’t enough, he certainly didn’t want to meet the gaze of the gore covered yellow monsters which ruled the road. He saw the destruction those left behind and he didn’t want to become another victim of their rage.
His own office was no better. The barred windows combined with the imposing stonework made it clear it was actually a prison. Each of the doors was flanked by a pair of golems. They watched those who entered with emotionless eyes, their gauntlet covered fists ready to deal with any threats. As he walked down the aisle and glanced into his coworkers cells he could see the haunted look in their eyes. They only spared him a quick glance before continuing to slave away. Their emaciated bodies slouched over their desks and their arms relentlessly pounded their keyboards.
It was all a desperate attempt to please the managers who were patrolling the halls like wardens. Each step of their obese bodies as they waddled past shook the ground and left the workers shivering. People cowered before their soulless black eyes and forked snake like tongues. You could practically see the managers draining the life force of the employees who caught their attention.
He quickly learned that the rest of the building was worse. Going to the bathroom was a mistake as it was some sort of twisted food trough. Everything was covered with gore and demons could regularly be seen crawling on all fours slurping up the filth. These monsters almost looked human, their skin tone just slightly off and their greedy eyes piercing into your soul as they bared their fangs in greeting.
The cafeteria was equally disgusting. People listlessly lined up to receive their slop from the wart covered, cackling, witches who served it. After getting their food they crouched down at the steel tables and gobbled it down. It was like watching wild dogs fighting over a chunk of meat.
He stopped leaving his desk and concentrated on getting his work done as quickly as possible. If did his work he could hide under the radar and avoid his manager’s wrath.
Despite these daily terrors, he never once regretted learning the truth. As his body grew weak from hunger, his mind stayed strong and his determination grew. Though the monsters were taking over his city, he wouldn’t quit without a fight. Over the next few weeks he started stockpiling weapons and devising a plan to strike back. He would expose these monsters for what they were and force the whole world to see them.
Eventually he was ready to take back his freedom. He chose a particularly dark day to enact his plan, hoping it would give him the element of surprise. He published his manifesto, loaded a duffel bag with weapons and stepped outside into the silence. The smoke smothering all sound except for the echo of his footsteps as he headed out the door ready to save the world…
A little boy watched the swarm of police officers in fascination. Using their cones and yellow tape they had blocked off a huge section of the neighborhood. There were so many he couldn’t count them on both hands! He considered using his toes too, but then he wouldn’t be able to see all the activity.
There were police cars, ambulances, and even a fire truck! All of them had their lights flashing. The only way it could be any better was if their sirens were playing too. He tried to move closer, but his parents wouldn’t let him. They gave him a firm hug and then shooed him towards the playground.
Stealing one last glance behind at the cars as he sprinted away, he tripped and fell to the ground. As he scrambled back to his feet his eyes caught sight of a shiny red stone near the curb. He quickly grabbed the fist sized stone and was surprised by how light it was. He held it up to the sky for a better look and gasped. With all the excitement he hadn’t realized how beautiful of a day it was. It seemed like the sun was practically smiling! Birds were singing and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Everywhere he looked there were smiles on people’s faces and people playing. He happily pocketed the stone as he ran off to tell all his friends all about the police cars.
Originally published at https://www.narrative.org on August 30, 2019 in response to a writing prompt.
