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Posted on my blog. Advice and constructive criticism welcome; I am good at essays but still new to fiction writing.
The Caretaker
When I was young, I was homeless. I learned how to survive. You could find warmth in small nooks where no one bothered to look, or food--still edible--in a pile of refuse. Sometimes I caught wild things and ate them, too. I was tough. A few homeless ones ran with gangs; but I never bothered. I've always been a loner.
No, don't worry; this isn't going to be a story about how the tough young street Person makes something of himself. You've heard those sorts of stories before, I'm sure, and there's no reason to rehash them. No--my story takes a much stranger turn.
It all started one day when I was looking for warmth and shelter not yet claimed by anyone else. Where I lived, as long as anyone could remember, there were Caves scattered about between the grass and stretches of rock; and we stayed away from them, since they smelled strange. We People used to tell stories about the creatures that lived in the Caves, mostly to scare each other, but often out of curiosity. After all, curiosity is one of the traits we are famous for.
And it was curiosity that led me that day, hungry and footsore, into one of these mysterious caves. I went cautiously, slowly, feeling my way. There in the Cave, I found shelter. It was warm. I found a small nook, and I went to sleep.
Refreshed, I began to explore the Cave. It was one of the most alien places I have ever seen. All over it grew square crystals of different colors and shapes, and on the ground was a sort of moss of a bleached off-white color. Here and there, there were soft patches which were good for sleeping. And in the Cave, there lived a Caretaker.
We had observed these creatures afar off, many times. They were giants with large flat feet and bodies that stretched up, up, up into the sky. They were elongated, so much that it seemed that they should topple over; and perhaps because of this instability, they moved slowly and clumsily. We were wary of their large size and so, despite their slowness, we stayed clear of them.
But I am the first Person I know who has been inside a Cave and seen the Caretaker in its home, so I feel it is important that I should record my observations. We are, after all, naturally curious.
The name "Caretaker" is my own invention. When I lived outside a Cave, we called them "the Giants" or simply "Them"; but after observing for a while, the name "Caretaker" naturally occurred to me, and has since then stuck. It comes mostly from the creature's strange, ceaseless activity. As it moves about the Cave, a Caretaker will move debris from place to place, arranging some things in patterns and others into piles. It seems to have a preferred arrangement, and will move things back and forth until it seems satisfied. Sometimes, it makes low-pitched noises with a rhythmic quality to them--not proper language, I think, but perhaps some reflection of its feelings. Over time, I have learned that the movements and vocalizations of a Caretaker can be roughly predicted to gauge its mood.
A Caretaker does not always engage in these activities. Sometimes, it will leave the Cave and come back with new debris to arrange. Sometimes, it finds a soft place and falls into a deep torpor from which it cannot be awakened, and which lasts so long that I have often slept and woken five or more times before it stirs and slowly pulls its ponderous bulk up from the soft place. Sometimes, it goes to a part of the Cave where there is a noxious substance dripping from the ceiling, and stands underneath until it is covered in the substance, and then rubs itself with debris until the substance is gone. Perhaps this is some form of ritual penance. I have often stood nearby, worried, but the big creature never seemed to be harmed.
After a little while, when I came out of hiding, the Caretaker seemed to notice me and--to my surprise--slowly accepted my presence in the Cave. It would make those low-pitched noises when I was nearby, and I learned to recognize one noise which I think must be a greeting or perhaps a sort of friendly invitation. I learned that some things that the Caretaker arranged were edible, including a sort of brown gravel which I have grown quite fond, and of which there is always enough to fill my belly. I have even created makeshift games from the debris that the Caretaker likes to scatter around the Cave.
It has been a long time now since I entered the Cave. I have taken it up as my territory, and I keep a steady watch on the surrounding environment, to keep away intruders and monitor for prey. The Caretaker needs me to do this, for it is very unperceptive, near-blind and deaf. Perhaps such a large creature does not need to be afraid of many things.
Despite its limitations, the Caretaker has learned to understand a few words of language. It cannot speak except to make its noises, but sometimes it seems to understand when I talk to it, and has even learned to follow simple commands. Sometimes it seems to be in a companionable mood, and then it will use its dextrous appendages to groom my fur; other times, it becomes frustrated and seems to freeze into place or fall onto the floor, and I have learned that a persistent nudge will often allow it to regain its equilibrium. Sometimes, when it is just coming out of its torpor, I climb onto the soft place where it sleeps and groom it until it wakes. Those are the most peaceful times in the Cave.
It is a strange life, but I have grown to enjoy it. We play simple games. We sit near each other, and I talk to it and it mutters and growls to me. I am safe and I am no longer hungry. The Cave is warm, and its Caretaker has grown to become--dare I say--a friend, however alien a creature it may be.
