The Tale of Zazar

Reads: 86  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Zazar, who is perhaps one of the worlds greatest fortunetellers,dreams of escaping the glass box he has lived in for over20 yrs. He feels unloved and unappreciated. Does he have what it takes to escape this place? I know it's horrible, but it's all he's ever known.

Submitted: November 20, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 20, 2011

A A A

A A A


 

The Tale of Zazar

By: Liberty Thompson


The lights went off inside the arcade as it closed down for another night.  I was left in the dark once again.  I moved my wooden hands and held them in front of my face.  How could they say that I wasn’t alive?  That I wasn’t real.  It’s true, I was manufactured somewhere in a foreign country, but I’m still real.  I can move my hands myself, without the use of electricity.  My name is Zazar.  I’ve been held inside this box handing out petty fortunes for almost twenty years.  I ran my wooden finger through my long synthetic beard and thought, “ what have they ever dome for me? I give out fortunes everyday, quality fortunes, mind you.  They can’t even dust off my box properly.  I hate this place.”
As another day of telling fortunes rolled around, I was thinking up clever fortunes that were better than ever.  Maybe if I tell better fortunes, they’ll treat me the way I deserve to be, with respect.  I noticed a young girl, maybe five or six, walk past me with her mother.  I could practically hear the coins in their pockets, begging for a fortune.  
“ I am Zazar the great!  Master of all fortunes!  Get a fortune and make your wildest dreams come true!”  I called from behind my glass enclosed box.  I had the perfect fortune for them.
“ Mommy!  He’s creepy!”  The little girl shouted. She looked so upset.
“ It’s OK, honey.”  she tried to comfort her daughter, leaving me feeling like dirt.  I knew I was awful at this.  Just then, a little boy, ten or so, ran up to me and shoved a quarter in my slot.  I repeated the lines I had said a thousand times before, but this time with enthusiasm.
“ I am Zazar the Great!  Master of all fortunes!  Get a fortune and make your wildest dreams come true!”  I was so excited I almost forgot to give him his fortune.  A small white piece of paper came out of the slot below.  It read, Good things come to those who wait.
“What kind of a stupid little fortune is this?!?”  He yelled, tearing up the fortune and throwing it in the air.  As he ripped up that small unsignifigant piece of paper, he also ripped up my very soul.  A small tear formed in my ruby eye and fell down my wooden cheek.  All I could think was why.  Why me?  An important realization came to my mind.  I could cry and the tear running down my face could prove that.  I am real.  I started to bang the glass furiously with one thought running through my mind:  Get out.  Get out.  Get out.  The arcade went completely silent, even the beeping of the games seemed to cease.  The boy was so startled, he fell onto his back, letting out a screech of terror as he crashed into the ground.  The lights turned off too, leaving us in total darkness.  All that remained was the pounding of the wooden fists on the glass.  When the lights came back on, everything resumed to be normal inside the arcade.  Well, almost everything.  There was a small pile of pointy glass shards on the floor, and I was gone.  In the machine that was once my prison, was a slip of white paper sticking out of a thin slot.  Printed on it in heavy black ink were the words, “Zazar the Great will escape.”

The End.

 


© Copyright 2017 Liberty Thompson. All rights reserved.

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Liberty Thompson

The Tale of Zazar

Short Story / Other

Figure 8

Short Story / Young Adult

Popular Tags