a

Challenge: Jack the Monkey
January 28, 2004

By Kayden Eidyak
January 28, 2004

~ Far From Home ~

Here I lay. It is cold. It is dark. Where is my family? Where is my home? Where is the abundance of palms that was my backyard? The bananas, the coconuts and all manner of little bugs and creatures; they are gone too. Voices. Rough and loud. They trod on my grass and took no heed of my friends that they disturbed. They cut my bushes and chopped my trees. They created a terrible beast, hot and orange, that ate anything it was given. And they found me. Lost and scared. They took me. And here I lay. Alone.

By EstelWolfe
January 28, 2004

~ Untitled ~

He cared for me.

After the noise, the thunder from the clear sky, the shrieks of my family, the smell of the blood, the fear and the cage and the darkness, he cared for me.

He gave me food. He gave me a place to be safe. He took the place of my family.

I gave him more eyes, nimbler hands, sharper ears, and he took these as his due.

Then came the gold, and the darkness and the cold that slept in my bones even in the light of day.

Finally, though, finally the cold has passed . . .but he does not move.

I cry to him, yet he does not heed my voice.

I see the gold again, the gold he has always commanded me to bring him.

Even as I touch it, the cold again claims my body, the darkness eating at my being.

I bring it to him.

I place it in his hand, as I have always done.

And still he does not move, does not praise me and pat my head, say, "Thank you, Jack."

I realize that I am alone . . .alone and cold but not cold . . .

And I cry.

By Geek Mama
January 28, 2004

~ Jack the Monkey ~

Disgusting, dirty beggar. Just like his da', only littler. Probably both flea infested. No real manners, either. Bleedin' animals.

Oh, he's trained, right enough. Knew exactly what he was after, nippin' into the hold, easy as pie, doin' the ol' snatch `n' grab right under the whelp's nose, leavin' the boy there to drown and/or blow up, as the case may be. An' almost before you can think, before you can do anything except yip "Monkey!" an' give chase, the little blighter's handin' over the bloody coin.

An' then, to crown all, Barbossa's named it Jack. Jack!

Bloody stupid monkey.

By Hereswith
January 29, 2004

~ Jack the Monkey ~

The monkey kept her company, that endless, moonlit night. It stared at her, with small, dark eyes that held so little knowledge and yet, more than she could ever have. She caught glimpses of Hell, if she looked closely enough, if she dared to meet its gaze.

Sometimes, it would come within arm's length of her and start jumping up and down, arms flailing. The mouth opened, the face contorted, and it screamed, as if it was angry. She huddled closer to the wall, cold to the marrow of her bones. And the monkey stilled, lips settling into a smile.

~.~

All our authors thrive on feedback. Email the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

Back to Drabble Menu