The Thing by Alan.s.Robinson Out of the primeval pit, slivering from the sludge and slime, odious with obnoxious oozing, the Thing did climb. To stand erect, head held high, proclaiming loud. “How fine am I! Am I not magnificent?”. No soul lied. Having fled in terror, no soul replied. The Thing, appalled that non should applaud in general celebration, or exclaim in gasping gratitude, delight at the wonder of its creation, stood still in sluggish thought. “I must be admired, already of being ignored I grow tired. I must seek out at once those that will see, the overwhelming abundance of my majesty. For without knowing my beauty their lives would be empty. You may trust that they must be lonely without me”. The shadow of a lightening blighted tree, cast long by the setting sun, did touch the Things foot, then in horror turn and run. And all good things, wholesome and clean, hid their eyes and wept for shame that such a Thing should walk the earth and share their name. And so it past upon its witless way, as wasting darkness devoured day. While a sad soft wind whimpering in pain, asked solace of the whispering rain. It stalked the inky night, and scared the moon from out the sky. And on the black and lightless earth, with witches, demons, succubi the thing did make a covenant, solemnified with sacred oaths. (solemnised) “Help me to be a king of men and I will feed you all men’s ghosts.” So every monstrous beast alive, enrolled to help the fowl Thing thrive. “We will aid your wicked scheme, cook up a cauldron of devious dreams. mix every vile phial of hate, to make a sorely tempting bait, a lure made pure by discontent, the disenchanted heart to tempt. Stirred with jealous avarice, with every greed fed selfish wish, this simmering stew will surely serve, to chaff and chafe at each raw nerve to damn a nations dreaming heads, with nightmares of most fearful dread. That poisoned race seek you then and you will be a king of men.” When the melancholy dawn, had sleepily brushed the night away, wiped the clouds out of her eyes, and dared declare the night now day. She looked down upon a chastened earth and saw that malevolent, monstrous Thing, abroad, about with ill intent, earnest in its wandering. She watched as it wended its way across the land, winding this way then that, forward and back, seeking a nation to serve its demands. In time, by and by, the Thing reached a far country and thinking aloud, declared, “This place seems likely (suit me).” So when the people where gathered together breaking bread the Thing rose amidst them and boldly it said. “Behold me, how nobly, my majesty I bear. You would wish me your king I’d be willing to swear. For is it not privilege to gaze on my beauty, proclaim me your sovereign, for its surely your duty.” But they all shook their heads, solemn and grave And proudly proclaimed they would not be its slaves. From land to land the Thing did travel, seeking for signs of the promised kingdom. Rivers were forded, lakes circumvented, tall mountains climbed to scan far horizons. Certain that destiny could not be avoided that fate never flinched or was forestalled by whim he was ready and willing to be proclaimed king and being prepared he bought his crown with him. “Acolytes adore me,” he shouted sincerely, “for see what a wondrous head I bear have you ever seen such elegant beauty?” but time and again the Thing left in despair. The tribes of the Willovs, the Isiffs and Artens the Areus, The Wasus, The Mayers and Wereans none of the tribes would take the fowl thing to be their true king, their lord and sovereign. Tireless the Thing, wandered still seeking, that tribe of man that would fulfil his plans but tribe after tribe sent the Thing scuttling until the Thing came to the land of the Ams. “We need a new leader” they said. Strapping the old one down in his death bed. For we wish that throughout all the world it was known That the Ams, with no doubt, wish to be left alone. What we need is a thing to drive other tribes from us That breeds disgust and engenders mistrust That can generate revulsion through manifest evil A thing that would shame and dishonour the devil Some vilesome, filth stained, pitch tarred twister. Some selfish self-serving greedy embezzler Some morally derelict monstrous maverick A fraudster and faker devoid of all ethic. “That’s me!” said the Thing, “That’s me to a tee. I stand here before you, behold me and see I am the prodigy beheld in your dreams The thing to unfold to you what it all means By the great grace of fortune to you I’ve been sent” So the grateful Ams proclaimed the Thing, their president.