#201 – The Tale of an Unwanted Gift

The orb gave off such an enticing golden glow that I was surprised by how light it was when I first picked it up, almost as if it wanted me to carry it. I knew, however, that it was the creature sitting up in the tree, watching me pick up the orb, who wanted me to carry it. He had placed it there for me, after all. I got the sense that he wasn’t meant to give it to me because he flew away and hid amongst the branches of the willow tree as soon as I entered the park to collect it. Just like he’d told me to do. Once I held the orb in my hand, the creature flew away, and I haven’t seen him since, which is a shame because I enjoyed our small talks. If you could call them talks​, anyway. Now I know that this has all been an experiment. A trick. To see what an ordinary, eight-year-old boy would do with all of the power in the world.

It became like a pet. Something you had to nurture and care for. Something you had to keep away from danger and feed. Its food? My thoughts. It really is quite astonishing to watch something react to your thoughts. I remember just how careful I had to be after learning when I was younger that objects reacted to my touch. If you push a vase over, it will fall and smash on the ground. You can make a vase smash on the ground if you want to. Even that level of power came with great responsibility, and I had to learn to control it. I learned to carry my glass of water with two hands, I gauged the appropriate amount of force required to open and close doors, and I learned the subtle difference between pushing and shoving. The moment you control an object just by using your thoughts, you are forced to re-learn all of those skills.

I wanted a sandwich. An eggs sandwich to be precise. There were times where I had been hungry, but not for anything in particular. Then there were times where the image of what I wanted to eat popped into my brain before I even have time to put it into words. A craving I think they call it. That’s it. I craved an egg sandwich. And the moment I worked it out, the orb started glowing. The moment I started thinking about the orb glowing, it grew dimmer. When I thought about the sandwich again, it lit up brighter. Pushing and shoving. I decided to think about the sandwich and make the orb glow for as long as I could. It took precisely thirty seconds for an egg sandwich to materialize on my desk. The second I started thinking about what had just happened, the orb grew dimmer and dimmer, eventually putting itself out. I picked up the orb from my bedroom floor, placed it on the top shelf in my cupboard and ate my sandwich.

The orb came with me everywhere, and I probably disappointed the creatures with how little I used the powers they had given me. But, just a toddler who might enjoy wearing an oversized jumper for a few minutes, I was unprepared for the difficulties faced by an otherwise simple idea. One night, I went out into my backyard and offered the orb back to them. It was a small offering, but I tried to make it as obvious as I could. I placed the orb on the ground and built some star-shaped patterns out of twigs to place around it. I used some yellow leaves to help make the stars stand out and some flowers, just because I thought that even the darkest of creatures must like flowers. Perhaps I had become too connected to the orb because there was a strong sense of loneliness as I watched it from the backyard patio. A screech echoed through the sky, making my heart race. At the same time, my older brother knocked on the door behind me, causing me to jump around and open it in preparation to scold him. He told me he just wanted to play a board game so I used it as an excellent excuse to go back inside, shut the door and try and push the orb out of my mind.

My name is Gregg Savage and, every night when the house is quiet, I write and publish a free children’s story at dailytales.com.au for you to share and enjoy.


Illustrations by Alisha Towers: FACEBOOK

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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