0:
The sun which could kill
Once the world was happy, pleasant, serene. Once there were greener pastures, brighter skies, and once it was an ideal place to live. Once the watchers were content. Once the advertisers never had to step into the fray. Yes, once the land of Cereal was a quite peaceful place.
That all changed when their ruler attacked. The R.B. Sun was always in the daytime sky, always watching, yet nobody predicted he would proclaim war. Always was there a big smile on his face. Always was there a warm sparkle in his eye. Never had the two plastic shovels he held in each hand before appeared so deadly. One tragic spring day, the watchers realized it was unusually hot; in fact, it was sweltering. The temperature had jumped from 70 to 110 °F. Its eyes had evil eyebrows and it possessed a sickly grin. And the R.B. Sun was noticeably larger.
And suddenly more menacing.
Then the watchers knew that they had been in danger all along. Only then had they realized that as long as they were in daylight the R.B. Sun was able to attack.
And the fact that the daylight was prolonged this season only frightened them even more.
Later that day, just after daybreak, the R.B. Sun had sent out his first soldiers, the Raisins. They were shriveled, gray and cruel, however sugar-coated. Some would scatter their sugared grains across the flower gardens, beckoning the woodland Cereal creatures to their hiding spot only to be captured by the Raisin. With every kill they would grow stronger until the watchers became their target. The Raisins raided homes, murdered the innocent, gained power. No longer was Raisin a food. Mention the very name to a watcher and he may scream, run away.
At night when the Raisins would disappear, the R.B. Sun would send out the Bran. The Bran were fewer in number and had less potential than the Raisins, but had the strength of finding watchers and advertisers hidden in the valleys, the pits, the nooks and crannies and hiding spots the R.B. Sun could never look through. They took on different forms but were always identified by their sickly, scaly brown skin and sharp, jagged edges.
It seemed the world was doomed until the advertisers took their stand.
The advertisers; brave warriors of Cereal, rulers of the watchers' villages. They were known to fight valiantly for the sake of their land, even when staring into the very face of death. They were many in number, scattered across the globe.
But were they really a match for the R.B. Sun?
Comments
I got bored one day and decided that this would be a good idea. I hope SOMEBODY actually reads it. I have two chapters typed of this already.