Alright guys. For the first time in almost a year and a half, I’ve actually sat down and written something Bionicle-related. Ironically, this short story was the one I was most eager to write back when I planned them out, and after writing it, I have to say, I loved doing it. So, may I present to you, the sixth of eight short stories: Monster.
“Wow! Look at this place!” The Le-Matoran gazed up at the massive tree that marked the entrance to a leafy green jungle.
Lesovikk chuckled. “Don’t wander too far little one. Where would we be without our Chronicler?”
Mythor barely paid attention to Lesovikk’s words; he was too busy gaping at all the vines he might be able to climb in order to reach the tops of the trees.
Lesovikk exchanged looks with Reltas, a Toa of stone, and his deputy.
A week ago, the island of Deconia had been attacked by a swarm of strange Rahi called Bohrok. While Lesovikk and his team had managed to defeat these Rahi and save the Matoran, they hadn’t been successful in saving their homes. The Bohrok had terraformed the island into a barren wasteland, to the point that the damage was irreparable. Lesovikk and his team had been sent to locate an inhabitable island for the Matoran to stay. So far, they had been successful in locating five different areas on the island capable of supporting a group of Matoran. Now all that was left was to scout the jungle.
Lesovikk turned to Reltas. “Mythor and I will survey the trees from above; you get a lay of the land from below.”
The Toa of Stone nodded, and Lesovikk leapt into the air, propelling his body upwards, where he landed on a thick branch.
Mythor readjusted his satchel, and followed Lesovikk, albeit at a much slower pace. The Le-Matoran gazed up at the treetops. He reached a hand upwards’ it felt as though he could almost touch the sky, if only he were a little taller.
He turned his attention back to what lay ahead. He had lost sight of Lesovikk. He spotted a branch ahead of him. He had seen Lesovikk go around it, but it if he used it, it would allow him to catch up with the Toa. He took a step back, it looked a bit thin, but surely it could hold the weight of a Matoran.
He took a running leap, and jumped towards the branch. As he landed on it, he heard a crack, followed by a rush of air below his feet. He flailed his arms, searching for a vine, or a branch, anything that he could use to stop his rapid decent, but his arms only met the wind.
He felt his back crash through leaves, and a moment later he hit the ground. The force of the impact dislodged his mask, and felt as though it wanted to take his head with it.
Mythor slowly got to his feet. He hadn’t just hit the jungle floor; he had fallen through loose soil and into a cave below. As he fumbled for his Kanohi, he took note of his surroundings. Aside from the thin shaft of light coming down from the hole he had fallen through, the cave was completely pitch black.
No, wait. He could see a dim yellow glow to his left. He finally managed to locate his Komau, and he placed it back on his face.
That was strange; the yellow light was coming closer. No, it wasn’t just one light, it was actually two. Two bright yellow dots. They almost looked like…eyes.
Mythor took a step backwards. The lights came closer. Mythor kept inching his way backwards, and let out a gasp as the yellow lights met with the light from above. For a moment, he saw a tread, a claw, and a flash of yellow. Then, it was once again completely shrouded in darkness. Only the two yellow dots marked its position, steadily coming closer.
Mythor felt his back brush up against the wall, he had nowhere left to go; there was nowhere he could hide.
Lesovikk froze as he heard a scream. There was no mistaking it, it belonged to the Chronicler. The Toa of Air took off in the direction of the scream. As he tore through the brush, he met up with Reltas.
“Where’s the Chronicler?!” Lesovikk exclaimed frantically.
The Toa of Stone activated his Arthron, using its sonar abilities to detect the Le-Matoran.
Reltas pointed to the right. “He’s over here!”
Lesovikk took off in the direction he had pointed and Reltas followed closely behind. The two Toa came to a sudden halt as they reached a hole in the ground.
Lesovikk hesitated, trying to judge the distance to the bottom, then he leapt into the pit.
As he landed, he scanned the room. His eyes widened; there was a flash of movement, but for a moment, he could see a massive creature, a being that looked as though it had come straight from his worst nightmares. It resembled a huge crab; it was black, with two cold, emotionless yellow eyes.
Before Lesovikk could so much as lift a finger, the creature had vanished into the darkness. Lesovikk whirled around as he heard a groan on the other side of the cavern. It was Mythor.
He rushed to the Chronicler’s side, and his eyes widened as he saw the Le-Matoran. His armor was horribly disfigured. His arm was twisted, his leg was crushed, and his mask lay on the ground, shattered into a hundred pieces.
As Lesovikk cradled the body of the dead Matoran in his arms, he spotted something on the ground. On the ground lay Mythor’s chisel. Beside it, he could see something etched into the stone floor. It was crude, but Lesovikk managed to make it out. It was a single word: Manas; the Matoran word for Monster. As Lesovikk turned and gazed in the direction of the tunnel the creature had retreated in to, he felt that the word was very fitting.
Only a Manas could do this.
And this, is how the word “Manas” came into being. Thoughts? My next short story is called “Out of the Darkness” A short story written by Gavla before she was transformed into a Shadow Matoran. Sound interesting to you guys?