Draft #67 - The Competition
Trembling claws, gnashing teeth, and steadfast glares fill the Pit. The first time I had witnessed a Competition had been long ago - centuries, now - and every time I must step claw into the sandy wastes, I still feel as small as I did back then. There is no describing the feeling of tremulous awe that fills your entire being as you realize that this is the cumulation of your entire life.
There are only two options in the Pit: life or death. It is a gamble that the Vokkrus play, vying for your life in your very own claws. You can be strong enough to win, or you can face death with the cold certainty that you have lost.
I do not ever intend to lose.
***
The sun had long since set, casting his office into shadow. The only light in the room originated from his computer, solemnly displaying all that he longed to avoid. His eyes burned as he stared at the screen, watching the holographic words shimmer and flicker in front of him. He felt an odd sense of displacement - as if he weren't meant to be there.
>> Rukka: Needs approval ASAP. Get it to me by the end of the week. File attached.
Or else, was left unsaid, but Rulshkka can read between the lines, contrary to popular belief.
A huff of breath escaped him, interrupting the sullen silence that blanketed the room. Rulshkka leaned back in his chair, hearing it groan in protest. He stretched, an involuntary growl escaping his throat at the movement.
He returned to his slouch - hunched over his desk in a position that had started to ache three hours ago. He stared balefully at the screen before he gathered enough energy to click the file attachment.
Hatchling Competition Details
His sigh filled the room, louder than before. He quickly glanced at his slumbering companion to ensure he hadn't woken before returning his attention to the unassuming file. He glanced over the details. It all seemed to be in order.
If he were honest with himself, which he was often not, Rulshkka could admit that he hated this part of it all. Hosting the Competition was a lot of work, but at least it all culminated in his victory. The hatchling Competition was nothing but bitter heartache for him. A reminder of what should have been his and what never will be.
The office door creaked open, and Kohgrash, slumbering on the seat with his work sprawled on his lap, quickly jerked awake.
"Whazzit?" he grumbled in his half-awake state, sitting up and spilling the contents of his lap onto the floor. The muffled thump pulled him further into consciousness, and he stared, uncomprehendingly, at the pile of papers and electronics.
"Rulshkka?" Thruul said, poking his head into the doorway. The light was soft behind him, lighting him in a soft halo of warmth. "Oh, little beast, did I wake you?"
Kohgrash smacked his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. "What-," he cracked a yawn, "what time's'it?"
"It's been seven hours since the star has set," Thruul said kindly, stepping into the room to pick up Kohgrash's belongings. The human stood still for a moment before he started helping. "You two were so quiet in here that I wanted to check on you."
"Mmmh," Kohgrash hummed, still groggy from his unexpected pull from sleep. "Vok'Rul?"
"Here," Rulshkka murmured from behind his desk. He pulled his eyes away from the multi-page document. "I'm sorry I did not keep track of time, my little Kohgrash. Your back must be sore."
YOU ARE READING
The Autobiography Of An Alien
Science Fiction!! Sequel to In Search of Home. If you haven't read that, you'll be a little confused! !! After the humans invaded - somewhat; it was his fault, really - his planet, they left a gaping hole in his heart. It took the form of one Kohgrash. Rulshkka ha...
