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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Fantasy · #1797255
This is the introduction to a tale that touches on the end of our world as we know it.
Six things could be said about Smuffetts upon first meeting one: 1. They are small (and I mean severely small, about the size of a

regular house cat); 2. They are humanoid; 3. They are blue; 4. They have abnormally large hands and feet (proportional to their body, that

is); 5. They are incredible survivors; and 6. They are real.

Sometimes mistaken as fairies, leprechauns, and sprites, they are less magical and more natural. More akin to gnomes and

gremlins, they are a race all their own. Few and far between, they have remained hidden for millions of years, off and on, poking their little

heads out into the world every couple hundred years, give or take a few decades, to collect rations enough for them to remain hidden for

another few centuries, as well as gather enough information about the outside world to deem if it is safe to establish themselves upon the

surface realm.

Nobody truly knows where or when these little creatures came into being on this planet, it could be that they originated from aliens

from a distant galaxy who had crash-landed here before time became time. Maybe they are descendants from godlings, pledged to watch

over the Earth until it has been deemed worthy enough for the return of a long lost pantheon. Always there, but as if evolution barely

touched them. Their first known residence was in a land called Kalidak, a continent of wondrous peoples and creatures and magical beasts

that existed before prehistoria, found deep within the Forgotten Wood, the most wild and dangerous jungle the world had ever known, in a

giant conical fungus that towered almost as high as the great twisted Chi'gaara Trees that grew only in that region of the Wood, known as

Barris Molde. Given the shape and size of the stone-like living construction, the former theory of their origin could seem likely, and Barris

Molde could have been the remains of their shipwrecked starship, or it could just be that the little people figured out how to breed the natural

fungus over generations into the perfect fortress in their fatally dangerous existence.

When Kalidak, along with it's sister continent Atela and most the rest of the world was nearly blasted into oblivion during a battle

between two parties of the most powerful magic users of all time, Barris Molde along with millenia of historical landmarks and events,

fantastical creatures, and incredible epics were forgotten. Everything buried deep within layers and layers of molten magma, or swallowed

whole by gaping chasms that moved the Earth itself, or swept up in some of the most devastating tsunami's in the Earth's history.

Everything forgotten, but not lost. A hand full of things survived this great cataclysm: The species's of birds and reptiles that were hardy

enough to outlast the devastation, became what we know as dinosaurs; an always moving island called Izla Traakanos, where a surviver of

the destruction had gathered only handfuls of the most important fantastical beasts (the inspiration for Noah's Ark I'm sure, but Noah couldn't

find a self-propelled floating island, thus had to stick with a giant boat); a magical globe of the purest diamond that contains another world

altogether called Dreamsphere still remains intact though lost and not wanting to be found; and Barris Molde, which did not crack, bend, or

chip throughout the entire ordeal of being dropped like a stone in a well when a giant rift ripped through the Forgotten Wood, the Smuffetts

safe within, shaken, battered, and very bruised, but alive to live another day. As for what became of the dinosaurs, well we all know that

story. The tales of Izla Traakanos and Dreamsphere are two incredible epics that must wait for another time, but as it pertains to Barris

Molde and the Smuffetts, that's what I'm here to relate to you.

Only a handful of Smuffetts have been spotted throughout history, usually in the Europe region which was once a long, long, long

time ago the continent of Kaladak, and usually, as I mentioned earlier, mistaken as some mythical woodland creature, thus the many tales

of this wondrous species cannot be pinpointed with accuracy. The most recent known interaction between a Smuffett and a human is also a

tale many of us do not know yet are very familiar with, and probably the closest any tale has come to the truth about these creatures, up

until now, that is.

In the early 1950's a Belgian cartoonist named Pierre Culliford was walking through a park one day when he spotted a stray cat

staring at a bush about 15 feet in front of it. It sat close to the ground, haunches twitching ready to strike at whatever was in the bushes.

Laying on the grass about two yards in front of the cat was a small polished wooden twig. He shooed away the feline and leaned over to

pick up the curious stick, and when his fingers almost brushed it he felt a tiny prick at his temple, when he touched the spot he found blood,

and a small dart the size of his finger nail. Culliford immediately felt fatigued, and in his last moment of consciousness he scooped up the

twig and held it tight in his fist. He awoke shortly after to a new more excruciating pain, and in a precious area to him. He tried to pull his

drawing hand free from the pain that was assaulting it, but could not. when he looked to see what was causing the pain and preventing him

to move away from it he was surprised to see a little bald blue man in primitive clothing, sawing at his fingers with a small blade of stone.

His whole arm was strapped to the ground with what appeared to be vines that were tacked to the ground. A quick check showed that only

his arm was prone the rest of him was free to move about, and as quickly as he could he grabbed the distracted little creature by the head

and flung him as far away as he could. The using the weight of his body he was easily able to pull himself free of his bindings only to have

the blue nuisance stabbing him hard just behind the knee. Again knocking it aside he remembered the stick in his grasp and came to

realize that the thing must belong to it and it just wants it back. He held out the twig quickly, palm open before the creature could attack

again. It stopped, eyed Culliford cautiously, and snatched the twig away from him. It started to run back into the bushes, but the cartoonist

was faster grabbing it by the furs it wore. When it came to stab at him again he let go, but tried to purvey a gesture of peace, which must

have worked because it didn't turn to escape again. Culliford using sherades and similar means asked the creature some questions of

which he must have gotten some answers, because shortly thereafter he created a fantasy comic series called Johan et Pirlouit in which

one tale had the characters seek out a flute (incidentally the polished twig was a small flute) and met a group of small blue people called

Schtroumpfs. These comics then spun off to commit solely on these creatures, whose name was changed to something that was a little

easier to pronounce, you may know what they are they're called Smurfs.

The comic turned into a television show that was translated into many languages and became a worldwide phenomena, selling

merchandise of all sorts with their image on it. Everybody knows the Smurfs. Little blue people, no more than three apples tall, who live in

mushroom houses, play flutes, and have no love of cats or humans. Culliford got it right, but only as far as he could understand it. As far as

his very cartoonish rendering of their physical appearance, he must have still been under the influence of whatever sedative was in that dart,

because they don't look quite that silly.

So unusually, the Smuffetts have come to the surface from their buried home almost a century earlier than is custom. Why is this

you ask? Well my friends the story's about to begin.
© Copyright 2011 333rd Legend (333rd_legend at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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