[Writing Prompt] There is an evil spirit living inside your garden gnome on the front lawn.
Grant And The Garden Gnome
Grant raised his hand into the air with a haphazard gesture. His mind was on other things. Recently his office manager had been putting a lot of pressure on Grant to make more sales; Grant’s girlfriend had broken up with him; and, as if that weren’t enough, he had recently discovered he had a superpower.
This latter issue was, perhaps, the cause of the former problems.
Grant discovered his powers in the shower. Without thinking, Grant reached out for the shampoo bottle in the corner of the tub. Before he could bend down to retrieve it, the bottle flew through the air and into the palm of Grant’s hand.
Grant was so surprised he threw the bottle across the tub and nearly fell on his ass. Standing there, in the nude, back against the warm tile, Grant stared at the shampoo bottle in amazement. Tentatively, Grant reached out his hand again. In his mind he asked the bottle to come to him. To his astonishment, it did just that, floating, more gently this time, through the air.
From that moment on Grant began to experiment with his new, impossible power. He went around his house using telekinesis at random. With a flick of the finger in mid-air he would turn on the toaster, or change the channel of the TV. He would lift deli meat onto floating pieces of bread, or gently float a ladle of hot soup halfway across the room to a waiting bowl.
Grant used his power for everything and anything he could think of. He became, reasonably, obsessed with it. Instinct told him to hide the ability, lest he be dissected in a lab somewhere. As a result, Grant grew distant from common concerns, alienating his girlfriend and falling short at work.
In exchange, however, Grant uncovered the depth and scope of his new found power. His tests revealed no upper or lower limits as to size or weight. He could lift and manipulate his pickup truck as easily as a grain of sand, both without any perceived effort.
He could use his power destructively or creatively. Grant accidentally squeezed his laptop into a sparking metal and plastic ball. On the other hand he managed to build a playing card tower as tall as his living room ceiling, holding each card in place for over three hours.
The only limitation Grant found in his studies was the inability to manipulate living things.
“Living things” was a pretty broad category. It did not, as far as Grant could tell, include vegetative matter.
But if it walked, or crawled, or slithered – any mobile creature – then Grant could do nothing directly to it. Ants would scurry about, unfazed, beneath Grant’s open palm. The hated badger who lived in the nearby glen and frequently destroyed Grant’s garden, remained unscathed by Grant’s attempts to immobilize it with his mind. Similarly, although Grant could manipulate the objects around her while she slept, Grant’s now ex-girlfriend was herself immune from direct telekinetic manipulation.
Besides this one caveat Grant’s power appeared limitless. He began to use it to improve his house on the isolated farmstead that had been his grandfather’s property.
He uprooted a dying tree, lifting it high into the air so that its roots dangled beneath it like hanging vines. He tore off his roof and meticulously re-shingled it, using only his mind. He did these things without any discernible effort whatsoever.
Presently, Grant stood over his front lawn, where he was preparing to tear up the grass and lay down a complex pattern of local stones.
He raised his hand, summoning every inanimate object on the lawn up and out of the way. The mower, a shovel, a wheelbarrow and a rake all lifted high into the air and flung themselves aside. Several decorative pots flew skyward and hovered to gentle stops a dozen meters away.
Everything that was not alive on that grass rose up and got out of the way. Satisfied, Grant was about to begin tearing up the sod when he saw something puzzling.
Off to the side of the lawn, where there had been a thicket of flowers growing from several pots, was a decorative gnome. Its blue hat and jolly red suspendered pants were scuffed with dirt. It’s long white ceramic beard was several shades darker than white.
Grant had never seen this gnome before. He has not known that there was a garden gnome on the property. He chalked it up to his grandfather, who must have purchased the little guy and placed him amidst the thickly growing plants, where he was lost for a time.
With a shrug, Grant lifted his hand out and ordered the gnome to rise into the air.
But the gnome did not obey. It stood there, facing Grant, its painted ceramic eyes staring with blank intensity. Grant gave the mental order again, but still the gnome did not budge.
Uncertain whether his power had been sapped dry, Grant tried to move a nearby stone. To his relief, it shot into the air at his command and raced off into the distant sky.
Returning his attention to the gnome, Grant tried a third time. Once again, nothing happened.
Frustrated and confused, Grant approached the small lawn decoration. He bent down and picked it up. It was cool to the touch and appeared to he made of ceramic.
Holding the gnome up, Grant looked it in the eye and scanned it up and down. It couldn’t be more than a foot and a half tall. It was clearly not alive, and yet —
At last, you have come.
A voice shot into Grant’s head from no where. Still holding the gnome, Grant spun around, looking for its source. He was alone, the doorway to the house behind him as empty as the lawn and the open, fallow fields.
I have waited so long for communion. No other has accepted my gift. You are different. Break the seal.
Grant began to panic. He worried he was losing his mind. Of a sudden, the gnome began to quiver in his hands, the ceramic growing warm beneath his skin.
Terrified, Grant flung the lawn decoration away. It flew several meters through the air. As it impacted the ground it seemed to Grant that time slowed to a crawl. He watched with dread as the small gnome fell head first onto the grass. The tip of its blue hat hit the ground and a single crack formed. The crack expanded into crazing lines in the ceramic. Wherever the gnome cracked a light of extraordinary brightness shone out. It was as if the sun itself was trapped within the ceramic gnome.
Time returned with a vengeance and the gnome exploded into a thousand pieces. Grant gaped as a ball of pure, chaotic energy emerged from the shattered ceramic shell. He considered trying to run, but his feet would not listen.
Instead Grant stood there, eyes wide, as the light forced itself into his mouth, filling him with pulsating heat. Energy glowed from the surface of Grant’s skin, rising in wisps as the voice in his head – the voice of the gnome – cooed him to sleep.
I will take over now, young Grant. Rest. Rest now. You have done well. So well.
The tower rose into the sky, higher than any skyscraper, impossibly large and impossibly tall.
It took the ambassadors fully three days to climb its unending staircases. On each level of the tower acolytes, in their white robes and bald heads, waited and watched, looking upon the ambassadors with scorn.
Several of the older ambassadors did not complete the journey. They were left behind, their country’s treaties handed to younger men and women to continue on.
At the end of each day the ambassadors were called into various rooms on whichever level they found themselves on. They were fed well and given water, and they slept in beds which seemed to have been laid out for them in advance of their arrival.
On the third day, the first ambassadors arrived at the Apex. The golden doors of the throne room stood tall before them. They waited there, at the top of the stairs, in a room made of glass. All around them the tops of the clouds stretched for miles in every direction.
When, at last, all the able bodied ambassadors arrived at the Apex, as the sun set gloriously in reds and oranges in the far distance, the doors opened. Haggard and exhausted, their suits and dresses soaked through with grime and sweat, the ambassadors of all the countries of the world stumbled into the throne room.
Far above them all, It glowed upon It’s grand throne. Steps made of effervescent gemstones and precious metals led up to the base of the seat of all earthly power and, upon that seat It sat.
As the ambassadors looked upon the glowing human figure they could not believe their eyes. This was the fantastic creature which had bested mankind? This small thing had single handedly conquered every government on Earth?
High up, It stood on Its dias and raised a hand. In the minds of each of the ambassadors a voice spoke.
It is well that you have come. You desire mercy?
The ambassadors looked at one another. One by one, they said yes. All except one.
A tall man in a well tailored suit and three days of stubble stood defiant.
“No. America will never surrender!”
Silence pervaded the throne room despite its immensity. Above all else, It moved Its hand gently upwards. The American ambassador rose into the air. His body sagged slightly inside his clothes, as his weight was lifted using only his expensive suit. The voice came again.
So be it.
Light poured from thr American’s gaping mouth in a visible but silent scream. The individual atoms of his clothing erupted into controlled fusion and the American was gone.
The other ambassadors watched in horror and fell to their knees. As they did so, a different, harried voice appeared briefly in their minds.
Please. No more. Please, stop – I won’t – I won’t let you —
It put a hand gently to Its head and the second, desperate voice disappeared.
Then It’s voice returned, calm and unworried.
Quiet now, Grant. Quiet now.
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