On hiatus.

Tengu's Workshop is on hiatus until further notice. I apologize for the inconvenience...

Spring

      They laid there, two lovers entwined, covered only by a blanket of leaves undisturbed by the warm breeze. Looking into her companion's narrowed eyes, the nymph felt a sudden warmth splash upon her cheeks, as an ever-bashful smile formed on her lips. Tracing unknown letters across the smooth, olive skin of her lover's breast, she felt a wistful sigh blend with a shy giggle, a gentle precursor to whispers to come.
      "Are you all right?" came a deep, soothing voice, as the nymph felt a tender squeeze around her shoulders. With a simple nod, she shyly buried flushing cheeks into her companion's firm bosom, as long, slender fingers wove effortlessly through her hair. "I'm just not used to you being so quiet," came the soothing melody once more, followed by a wistful sigh. "I'm not squeezing you too tightly, am I?"
      The nymph briefly felt her companion's embrace lighten, the powerful, sinewy arms brushing against her skin in their retreat. Clinging ever tighter to the powerful beauty beside her, she felt a great calm fall over her heart, her eyelids growing heavier by the moment. "Not at all," the nymph replied, the words flowing into her companion's ears, as her fingertips trickled across smooth olive skin. "To be honest . . . in your arms . . . is the most comfortable place I've ever been."
      Suddenly awash with slumber, the nymph nuzzled her lover's chest once more, her own gently rising and falling with each breath. Stroking the dreamer's silvery locks, the dryad sighed contentedly, pressing the nymph's swimmer's build into her own. "If only I could tell you just how much you have nourished me, my nymph," came the soothing rustle, barely carried upon the wind, "if only..."
      Soon, only the sound of a nascent stream filled the air, joined by the rustling of leaves, as the dryad's eyes gazed skyward, through cracks in the verdant canopy above...

Spring break.

"Tengu's Workshop" will be taking a short break, and will return with a new updating schedule on May 7. Thanks for your continued readership!

A Dream

      Television screens flicker like candlelight, casting the lone viewer in a ghastly pallor. Silently, the child watches, empty eyes darting between the cyclopean bursts of static just ahead. Bare walls stained by leaking fluids and the dusty floor seem to cry out, a room always barren, a vacuum of light and shadow. Lost in the twilight of flickering screens, the chamber is nothing more than a formless shadow, floating in a stream of dust. Even the bald, misshapen head of the child appears ancient, the wide eyes carving wrinkles in the expressionless face.
      There has not been movement in this room in some time, if at all.
      Bathing in the twilight of the screens, the ghost releases a shallow breath, lips moving to some unspoken thought, or perhaps to suckle, nourished by unseen fluids. Bare legs, folded and crossed, appear so thin that there is but bones beneath the skin; whatever muscle there had been fading into the dust. Standing in the doorway, the child fails to notice your presence, so hypnotized by the flicker of static ahead.
      Slowly, the wrinkled mass of skin and bone turns, the unblinking eyes gazing at you in the twilight. Shallow breathing intensifies into wheezing bursts, the child's lips undeterred in their perpetual suckling. Falling backwards, your hand brushes against an archaic switch, flicking the cobweb-adorned mass into a different position.
      One by one, the screens fade away and die, snapping the ghost's attention back to the cyclopean monstrosity that serves as an altar. Rising to your feet, your own eyes cannot turn away, as one by one, the wall of screens is eaten away by the ever-growing shadow. Unmoving, the child's breath fades into silence, slowly sinking away into the darkness of the room.
      As the last screen dies, there is absolute silence. Without warning, your ears are pierced by the shrill scream that echoes throughout the shadows, nails and claws grasping against the stone walls of a well. Even as you run, hands over ears, the scream follows, the wail of a ghost swirling through broken glass and electric wires, clutching onto you until blood trickles down onto your fingers. Blindly flailing in the shadows, you stumble into another room, falling into a mess of dust and cobwebs.
      Before you sits another such child, staring blankly at you through a dusty pane of glass, lips suckling, eyes never blinking, as everything becomes static.

Among the Clouds

      Unblinking eyes, set in circular, symmetrical lenses, scanned the skies. With a mechanical whir, each cloud was studied from the ground, familiar and imagined shapes flicking through the observer's mind. Every so often a bird would fly by, a speck of black in the vast blue above, too far away to ever really see.
      Raising great metal fingertips to an otherwise blank face, the observer drifted into thought, as great metal wingspans and roaring bursts of flame flickered from memory. Unblinking eyes fell to the horizon, studying the cobbled ruins of rusted spires and eroded masonry, barely peaking through their verdant blanket. Memories returned, of metal sinews and motionless giants that once stood, unwavering, high in the sky.
      I wonder, came a thought, as the observer's gaze returned to the clouds, for all their ambitions . . . did they ever truly soar so high and free?
      Scratching a cylindrical head, the observer started to walk in the direction of the forest, a colossal metal skeleton whirring and rattling with each footstep...

A Silly Idea

      "Are you awake yet?" rang a chipper voice, accompanied by the sound of gentle purring.
      Not fully aware of his surroundings, the lazy inventor reluctantly opened his eyelids, as though burdened by such a heavy task. As his eyes slowly began to focus, the boy felt around his bed until, surely enough, he found a familiar ball of fur beside him. "So you are," rang the chipper voice again, as a black-and-orange feline unfurled, before kneading gently at his side.
      "Oh yeah," the boy muttered, sitting up and wiping imaginary specks from his eyes. "It's the afternoon, isn't it?"
      Looking down at his companion, he could see the crude electronic collar, lined with tiny speakers and electronics. All night, he thought, stretching out as the feline did the same, it literally took all night to finish that damn thing...
      "You've slept through breakfast," rang the voice once more, more annoyed than pleased, as the ball of tortoiseshell fur nestled atop his lap. "And potentially lunch. I hope you're pleased."
      Casting aside the covers, the young man stretched again, casting sideward glances at a still-cluttered workbench. Walking over to brush aside various tools and discarded bits and pieces, he turned to his companion, a knowing smirk upon his face.
      "You weren't so . . . um . . . catty last night," he began, suppressing a weak chuckle. Returning his attention to unburied schematics, the young inventor failed to notice the sound of little footsteps, until a sudden flash of orange and black came bounding onto his workbench.
      "Why are you doing this, anyway?" rang the voice once more, the little feline getting comfortable on her new, blueprint-ridden perch. "I thought I was fairly direct before you went and slapped this . . . this thing around my neck."
      "It's not you," he replied, giving his companion a quick pet, only to be greeted with a nasty glare. "But just think of it, Rosie: a bridge between humans and animals, a way of communicating that may finally give voice to the voiceless . . . and all it took was just a little know-how, and, of course, my own brand of ingenui--"
      "Look," rang the voice again, accompanied by a low growl, "just because most of you don't bother to learn our language, doesn't mean you have to go and force your own on everyone you see." Bounding off the workbench, the tortoiseshell ball stormed out of the room, only to return moments later, as though surprised to find no one following her. Looking at the inventor with expectant eyes, the feline merely sat in silence, her tail flicking defiantly.
      Turning to face his companion, the boy stared into wide pupils, schematics still in hand. With a sigh and a nod, he slowly shuffled to the doorway, dropping the crumpled sheets of paper before slowly kneeling before the little cat. Trying not to get anything caught in stray strands of fur, the boy gently unfastened the collar, tossing it aside.
      Pouncing at him, his companion erupted in a fit of purring, leaping atop his shoulder without the slightest concern. Nuzzling against the side of his face, he desperately tried to reach for her, before finally bringing the ball of fur over his head, cradling her in his arms.
      "It was a silly idea anyway," the young man whispered, as the purring feline gratefully kissed his fingertips. Slowly he started out the door, taking care with each step not to drop his companion from such a height...

Atop His Perch

      Every day, when the sun is highest in the sky, the giant climbs up the jagged rocks and steep cliffs, carefully balancing on metal toes and fingertips. Sometimes, the pebbles and the dust from his movement clog his vents; on those days, he is left to ponder, motionless high above the ground, until a healing breeze blows by. Other days, the rain is too strong and the stone too slick, that he must wait on the ground, far from his highest of perches. Yet, every day, the giant tries to scale the mountain, no matter the circumstance.
      Those days that he reaches his perch are the greatest, though. For miles, the glowing lights of his eyes -- two yellow circles set in a worn-away silver dome -- can be seen, even from the lowest of valley floors; he, too, can see so far as that, though never to be rude or scheming. Yet, with no jaw to hold agape, nor lips with which to smile or frown, there is no sign of the curiosity that glows within the giant, bright as his very eyes, unless you stumble upon just the right moment.
      For it is only on the days when the sun is shining, when the breeze is kind to keep him company on his ascent, will the giant be seen in such a moment.
      There! Look at him now, holding out his massive hands of metal, as though to ask the very world "why?" with but a gesture.
      There! Those flecks of color, you ask? Why, those are his friends, flying to greet him from places afar...