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Moon of the Underworld

by Robert Shmigelsky

Let go by the drop of a hand into a cave deep underground, golems wrought of sculpted stone went into the dark of a tunnel basking in a lantern-yellow glow. Hefting large iron axes and leather drums, the golems came to the end of the tunnel and found the way blocked by granite rock. Undaunted, the first golem to pick up a pick became their king. Led by their king, golems tunneled through the hard rock.

Striking onwards with forceful blows, roused by fires of inner mettle and the sounds of metal on granite, the golems dug a world under the Earth. They left pillars of priceless gems and metals, which stood aglitter against the great emptiness. But at the last rock to be chipped away the Golem King uncovered a patch of dull but semi-translucent ore.

Emitting a strange moon-like radiance, adamantine cast back the dark, brought out the gloom. Eying the grayness with an utmost reverence, the Golem King made a rising gesture with his hands, proclaiming it the Moon of the Underworld.

Inspired by the sight they saw before them, the other golems urged their king to uncover the rest of it, but the Golem King resisted their entreaties. When the golems remained persistent, the Golem King opened his mouth and spoke: “Rumble. Rumble. Grinds. And spits stones.”

Although one might not have spoken the language of stones, perhaps he said they had done enough digging for now, enough to last until the next magma flow forced them to start all over again.

Copyright © 2011 by Robert Shmigelsky

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