Rust
Once upon a time, in the big empty of space there was a far distant planet orbiting a far distant star. As everyone who is anyone knows, that star shined happily on Woofum 3, home world of the Woof.
Legend tells that it was here where Woofs invented a great many thing and spread them throughout the universe, and chief among those inventions was Time. But this story is not about legends, it is the story about living in a world after they have gone. It is the story of a little Woof, and the great lessons we all must learn.
The Little Woof was born to a time of great trouble, a time when he hardly knew what trouble was, let alone himself, or all the things he may be capable of. The thing about trouble is, as everyone who is anyone knows, that it does not care if you are ready, for it comes anyway. Just as it came to the planet of Woofum 3, and into the home of The Little Woof.
The First Lesson - Hope
Across the surface of the world the trouble spread. Like a fungus it grew, and like a parasite it fed on all that was good and kind. For on every tree, blade of grass and on every Woof, Rust began to appear. Rust that took hold, until all the moved grew still.
The Rust came slowly at first, a barely noticeable thing. With Time, it moved from nuisance to hazard, and as Woofs everywhere began to panic, it spread to dangerous levels. Those in charge talked it down, and those of wise repute talked it up, but neither could help. Neither could slow the coming of The Rust. All anyone could do was put up a sign to count down the days.
When all seemed lost, and hope dwindled in the hearts of the Woofs, a rumor spread like fire, as rumors do. It spoke of a hermit as old as Time, perhaps even older. It was said that this Woof alone could stop The Rust, for long ago he had done just that.
As the rumor made its way through the cities and towns of the world it stopped at the doorstep of a home, the selfsame home in which The Little Woof lived. The parents of The Little Woof believed the rumor with all their whiskers, partly because parents are susceptible to such things and partly because they still had hope.
“Little Woof, my sweet Little Woof, will you come here?” Said The Little Woof’s mother.
Plodding over in front of the fireplace he sat at his mother’s feet and basked in the warm glow of the flames.
His mother leaned forward and gave him a loving smile and said, “You’ve heard your father and I talk a lot of dark tidings recently, tidings a child should not be troubled with. But you have also heard us speak of a hermit and how he may help us, and all Woofs besides, have you not?”
The Little Woof nodded his reply, listening patiently to his mother.
“It is now that I ask a brave thing of you, a thing I have no right to ask. Will you go to The Hermit under the mountain and ply for his aid in our stead?”
The Little Woof’s father shivered in his chair and spoke before The Little Woof could reply, “The world has given up on itself and it needs our help, but I fear we are too sick to seek out this hermit and cannot go with you.”
“Yes!” Shrieked The Little Woof as he jumped up in excitement, nearly frightening his parents half to death.
He had agreed so readily partly because he always did what his parents told him to do, and partly because he had always dreamed of going on a grand adventure like the Woofs of old.
So it was that The Little Woof filled his doggy bag with all the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he could make and promised to return as quickly as he could. He kissed his mother and father goodbye and with a sorrow stricken heart and a laden back, The Little Woof set forth on the path out of his village. The path that would take him to the foot of Left Ear Mountain, and the hovel of The Hermit.
As he made his way through the village no Woofs played in the streets, or stood at their merchant stalls and food stands. There was not a single Woof in sight. Yet, the smokestacks of the factories still huffed and puffed. It was as if they had been left to burn away the last of the year’s labor on their own.
With the border of the woods at his toes and home at his back, The Little Woof turned one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his parents, or anyone that might have gone to see him off. The village replied to his longing with silence. Only the towering sign that rose above the village slowly counting down the days until the end of the world served as his witness. The Little Woof sighed and walked on. He walked away from all he knew and all he loved with only hope in his heart, and sandwiches swaying behind his back.
The Little Woof’s march grew long and his feet yawned with weariness. His belly trembled and his sandwiches were all but gone. The woods surrounding him had become nearly barren and The Little Woof thought they looked like twisting toothpicks without their leaves.
Aside from this, The Little Woof noticed the woods still held a beauty all to their own, and within their embrace he felt safe. The blues and the browns of the trees passed him by, and the leaves crunched underfoot, and as he continued onward, a strange shadow began to grow over him.
Before he knew it, a beast appeared from the thickets, its eyes huge and hungry with mouth agape and filled with rows of razor sharp teeth! The beast was a massive Woof, poised to swallow him whole! The Little Woof squealed in terror and all of his little Woofy days flashed before him.
Years heaped upon years, dragged by in the next few seconds for The Little Woof, and when he felt as though he should have been eaten up, he slowly opened his eyes. Much to his relief he saw the massive Woof has not moved an inch!
Gathering himself up, he slowly moved around the Woof. He saw red blotches coated its pale fur, a red that he only just noticed matched the color of the leaves and the trees around him. Suddenly everything seemed to have the strange red coating on it, some more than others. It was then he realized the red was actually The Rust he heard his parents speak of. The Rust he had been sent to stop.
As The Little Woof looked upon the larger Woof, he saw its eyes were not frozen in anger or hunger, but rather in fear. Upon its face he saw a single tear had welled up in its eye, rusted in place and as unmoving as the Woof it belonged too.
The Little Woof knew that soon such a fate might find his parents, and so in a bluster of anticipation and melancholy he hurried off toward the falling sun, eager to leave the woods behind.
Hours piled upon themselves until finally The Little Woof found his way through the sparse woods, woods that no longer made him feel safe. By now his sandwiches had all been eaten, and his tummy rumbled and gurgled in frustration, but all was not lost. For just ahead in the distance Left Ear Mountain rose up, and at its base he could make out a small cave. A cave in which he hoped to find the hermit.
The Second Lesson - Fear
What once seemed only a hop and a skip away to The Little Woof, had since turned into miles upon miles of empty land and endless trail. With every step he took, he felt the road ahead stretch out by just as much. This of course was merely a trick of the eyes, for as the sun began to dip away behind the world, The Little Woof found himself at the entrance to the cave.
The Sun peeked over the mountain one last time, throwing it’s brilliance over the land with pinks and purples tossed amidst the atmosphere. In the dreamy haze of the sleepy land, The Little Woof hesitated with one furry foot inside the mouth of the cave. As his eyes adjusted he could see torchlight upon the wall welcoming him forth.
Donning a mask of steely strength, he tossed aside danger like a used tissue and strode in the cave not fully knowing what to expect. Once inside he began to make out the fineries of a home. There were soft cushioned couches and plush chairs. Tables, desks and books. Many, many books. In the far corner he could see a small bed, fluffy and very cozy looking. The hearth at the back of the cave roared a hearty hello, and the old Woof near the stove smiled and spoke to The Little Woof.
“Well hello little one. Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way alone?”
The Little Woof nodded, his words caught in his throat. The Kindly Hermit smiled and brought forth two bowls of soup and motioned for The Little Woof to partake in the meal at his table. With no further need for explanation than the gesture, The Little Woof eagerly plopped on a chair at the table and politely began to sip his soup.
The Hermit was slow to eat, and only after a few spoons of the hearty stew did he stop, for the hermit knew why The Little Woof had come.
“Little Woof, you are here because you think I can stop the rust, are you not?”
The Little Woof, with mouth full of soup nodded eagerly, his eyes full and bright as a newborn.
“Well let me start from the beginning, so you may understand. In the time before Time, before deadlines, alarms, bells and whistles, I was but a young Woof, much as you are now. We Woofs lived simple lives, with simple rules. Chief among those rules were honesty and kindness.”
“Then one day a change came over the world. I cannot say from where or why, but it was a change that grew in the soul of every Woof. It was a need, a desire for more. No longer were we content with what we had and so we built more, invented more, and took more. More than what we needed.”
“Soon more had to come faster, and so Time was invented. With Time, more could be had quicker, and the quicker the better!”
“Caught up in our own want, we did not notice until it was too late. We had created something, something born from our need to keep, and our hatred for sharing. Before we knew it The Rust came and began to devour the world, much as it does now.”
At this last sentence did The Little Woof’s ears perk up! For he knew that surely the answer to saving his family was just around the corner. He swallowed the last of his soup and awaited the answer he so long had sought.
The Hermit continued his story, with eyes downcast at the table. “Before the final moments of this world the Woofums built spaceships big enough for all that wished to leave, and they left this place for a new planet where they could start fresh and want all the days of their lives, free of The Rust. Very few stayed behind. Some out of necessity and some by fate.”
“Time continued in the absence of our leaders, and we rebuilt and lived as we do until this very day. Aside from myself that is. I had witnessed much in my youth, and I was not able to cope with the ways of my fellow Woofs, so I fled to the mountains where I have lived to this very day.”
The Hermit rose from the table and gathered the two empty bowls and placed them in the sink nearby. Without speaking he prepared food for The Little Woof and placed it within his empty doggy bag. When he had finished, he turned and spoke one last time.
“There is no cure for The Rust my dear little woof. None that I know of. The Rust has never left Woofum 3, it has only waited. Waited in the dark for the greed of Woofs to rise up and flourish across the land. I can only say to you, do not be like me. Do not hide away while the ones you love turn to hate. Do not blindly take without giving. Go home while there is still home to go to. For there are no ships to fly us away, and no bright land for us to go.”
At hearing this The Little Woof’s vision was awash with white, his chest heaved and a thousand knives pierced his heart. In a wild rage he grabbed up his food and burst into the cold night as he sprinted along the trail that led back to the forest.
He had left for nothing! His worst fears had been realized, fears he only now knew existed. He had risked everything for hope, only to watch it turn to sand between his paws.
With hardly a breath left in his body, The Little Woof fell down at the signpost that jutted at the edge of the woods. The darkness of the trees sent shivers down his spine and he dreaded the thought of entering the forest again. To his left lay another path, The Down Path as it was called.
He knew nothing of this path, but he could see that as it led down, it seemed to curve around the edge of the woods, and possibly back home. Without further hesitation he pushed himself up and set himself upon The Down Path.
The sleepy moon drifted up into the sky, illuminating the trail for The Little Woof with rays of ivory. Just as the path began to curve toward his village, it cut into the side of a hill. While he had never seen nor heard of this path before, he could see the path itself was not dark and forgotten. Fluorescent lights high up on the ceiling of the tunnel that led into the hill guided the path inward.
The Little Woof was hesitant, but pressed for time as he was, he beckoned himself forward. The only reassurance he was going the right way came from a sign that was bolted high up on the entrance. It read, “Welcome, Freedom Awaits.”
The Third Lesson - Loss
Days, weeks and months seemed to pass for The Little Woof as he made his way down the tunnel, until eventually it opened up into a wide cavern. Not a natural cave like one might find with curling stalagmites and twisting stalactites, but a Woof-made cavern. Not only was it as wide as the endless plains that lie before the Left Ear Mountain, but it was as tall too!
High above him The Little Woof could see circular doors in the distant ceiling, but more amazingly he could see towering spacecraft, like the ones from the story The Hermit spoke of. Though broken and battered, they were still a sight to behold. He imagined he and his family flying far away, far away from The Rust.
The Little Woof knew this must be the place where his Fore-Woofs had once fled the planet in search of a new home. Before he could ponder about his strange environment, a rushing gust of whipping wind whirled about him!
The metallic fins of the old spaceships warbled and whined as it blasted through the cavern. The wind, however, was not alone! For upon the invisible waves drifted a Woof!
As the air in the cavern died down, the drifting Woof swayed back and forth until he rested lax and lazy against a pile of rust-covered debris.
“Well, well, what a cute little fella. Not from around these parts are ya?” Said The Drifter, his words as nonchalant as he was.
The Little Woof was startled by such a sight, but stammered, “N…no, I’m not. I’m trying to go back home. I haven’t much time left.”
“Is that so?” Said The Drifter. “Why’s that?”
Taking a big gulp to swallow the big lump in his throat, The Little Woof said, “Because The Rust is coming, and I’ve got to get home to save my parents, we’re gonna run away!”
“Run away, you say? Reminds me of… oh, that’s right. It reminds me, of ME!” The Drifter laughed a quiet chuckle through his teeth so as to hold onto the piece of wheat he held between his lips. “I ran away once, been so long now I can scarce remember why. Been floatin’ on the wind ever since.”
The Drifter adjusted himself, and as he did so the pile of rusty filth behind him seemed to jiggle and squirm of its own accord. The Drifter seemed not to notice, in fact he seemed not to notice much of anything, for his eyes were hazy as if caught in a dream.
“Yup,” said The Drifter. “A better idea I’ve not heard. A fine idea! Take it from me, running away solves all the great problems in life.” As he finished speaking the wind began to pick up in the cavern again and The Drifter twirled and slowly spun away.
As he did his last words echoed out across the dim space. “Who knows, perhaps one day we’ll drift along together… so long Little Woof!”
When the last of the wind was swept away the ground began to shake and the walls and ceiling dripped and dropped with bits of metal and concrete all around! The lights flickered and the cavern seemingly began to fuse into the pile of junk where The Drifter had been resting.
The pile bubbled and grew, and as it did, it swallowed the nearest starship from the cavern, giving it form and substance.
While the rusty filth still poured down from the ceiling and up from the floor, The Little Woof squealed the squealiest squeal he had ever squealed.
Deep inside his mind, the conversations between his parents and the rumors he heard twisted into one terrible fact. He knew that the thing before him must assuredly be The Rust, the origin of the Woof-World’s pain.
Two ominous eyes appeared on the front of the deep red mass that slowly took the form of an oversized Woof. At first it looked forward, then side to side, until finally it looked down and noticed where the horrific sound had come from.
The Rust sloshed downward, its face examining The Little Woof. Its eyes were hollow and glowed like distant lanterns with fires of green and purple. At first they were small as they scanned The Little Woof, unable to determine what he was. Moments later they popped open, as if remembering a time that was better left forgotten.
The Rust reared up, letting loose a howl that cracked the ceiling which sent more debris falling down on the poor Little Woof. With only his doggy bag to shield him, he held it high to cover his ears and eyes until a large chunk of rock knocked it from his paws.
In fear The Little Woof cowered into a ball, knowing not what else he could do, and too frozen to do anything if he did.
When the howling ceased, The Rust bellowed, “Running away will not help you! As long as you exist, I exist! As long as you run, I too run! Wherever you go, you will find me! For however far you run, you will never truly go anywhere!”
A giant red arm had almost finished forming when the cracked ceiling gave way to the grassy hill it supported.
In an instant, moonlight flooded the cavern. The pure light was hot and white, and as it shone over the beast, it instantly began to disintegrate.
By sheer luck, not a single pebble managed to harm The Little Woof and by an even sheerer stroke of luck, the rubble that did fall made a near perfect staircase up out of the cavern and into the night!
The Little Woof, though still trembling snatched up his doggy bag. He jumped, crawled and climbed his way up through the hole and atop the hill above where he let out a sigh of relief.
In the distance he could make out the faint outline of smokestacks and small Woofly houses. Joy filled his heart, for he knew that he would see his parents again.
So The Little Woof ran, and as he ran he thought that perhaps with The Rust gone, the rest of the rust now would leave as well. Hope returned to him as his home came into full view.
The Little Woof glanced at the towering counter that still stood above his village, and he looked at it as he had so many times before. This time what he read turned his jog into a walk. It read 00000. Time was up. His breath grew ragged, for he knew he could not have been gone that long.
His walk turned to a standstill and he took note of the buildings of his hometown in the light of the moon. All were covered in red. A disheartening chill swept over him as he began to saunter forward, for his home was covered in deepest of hues as well.
The Little Woof stepped inside his house, his eyes wide for the room was dark. He could see the fire still burned in the hearth where his mother and father were outlined in their chairs by the amber light.
They were quiet at his presence, and he noted the splotches of red dotting the tips of their ears. His eyes fell down to his nose and he slowly rested his doggy bag against the back of his mother’s chair.
Between both parents he sat, and in taking their paws in his own, he held them tight and rested his head on his father’s lap.
Somewhere deep inside and oft ignored, a truth arose. Big, bad, and breaking it came to The Little Woof. It was loss, and all the things little Woofs dread about those they love. And so he began to weep.
For a hundred thousand, thousand years he wept until all his tears had run dry. When the flames in the hearth had begun to wither, the last of their light shone upon The Little Woof.
Still he sat between his parents, and still he held their paws in his, for he had long since been covered in rust. Yet his face showed no malice, pain or sorrow. His eyes, though closed, looked through the dying embers, the house and the rusted world beyond.
He saw a bright shining land where the evergreens sway gently in the wind and the grass is as soft as a feather bed. Where his parents are always waiting with open arms, and the peanut butter is never far away. He saw a place with no sunsets.