More Fractured Tales stories!
In her head... she called it a Rok-bot... not quite a robot but... more than a rock... and she had been fascinated by it from the beginning.
A magnificent sculpted marvel of nature... shaped over time by harsh weather... it stood about seven feet tall... just a few feet out past the high tide mark... at low tide its base was out of the water.
It looked like a rather ungainly monster... something one might see in a cheap-budget movie... maybe a distant cousin of the 'Thing' from the 'Fantastic Four' movies... - and she had smiled at the thought of it watching over her.
She loved it at first sight... her little abode made of local stone... was passionate about it... and was grateful to have found it.
Every month she celebrated the anniversary of when she had purchased this little getaway.
There was a nice living space, a small bedroom, and bathroom... larger than anything she could afford in the city.
Electrical service had been installed years ago... but had to be brought up to code before she'd been allowed to move in.
The closest town... which she visited just once a month... was three kilometres away... had a service station and a grocery store that carried the basic necessities... but precious few extras.
At this point, there was no other place she wanted to be and she had promised herself one year... twelve months to be alone... no more, no less.
Essentially, it was to be a time of self-healing... to deal with some disappointments and failed ventures... to decide which direction she wanted her life to take from here on.
Realistically, she hoped to regain both her mental and physical well-being.
This time she had vowed there would be no more romantic entanglements... not for her... if past results were any indication, she was a terrible judge of character.
More than anything, she wanted to come out of this year of isolation with a sense of purpose... a certainty of... not necessarily what she wanted... but what she was meant to be and do... something that actually felt right.
A fast-flowing creek... fed by a natural spring... just a few feet from the house... provided more than enough water for her needs.
Winter was not like winter anymore... due to climate changes... and fire was needed only for cooking.
Long daily walks provided both exercise and inspiration for her painting as well as her journal.
The journal was serving its purpose... as she worked through a myriad of feelings from past events... but she knew that her recent artistic efforts were too dark to be commercially viable.
Her temporary home was solid enough that no amount of wind could seriously shake it.
She had everything she needed and was comfortable on her own... at least she had been.
In recent days, however, something had changed... and the atmosphere was... hard to explain... tense... as if something was about to happen.
