Short Story: Sólin the Yellow Desk Lamp


Note: some random story I wrote at back in 2012. I thought it hilariously bad so I post it here for laughter’s sake.

This is a story of a yellow desk lamp. This yellow desk lamp is a very small, just barely the size of a young cat. The head of the lamp is the heaviest part of its body, yet it is supported by its strong steel “neck” that connects the head with the leg. As a matter of fact, it isn’t the leg at all, not a bit. It is just a small plate made of steel with blinding yellow hue matching the color of the head that not only functions as the container for all things technical for it, it’s also the main weight balancer; the lamp wouldn’t be able to stand so straight, so majestically without it.

The name of the yellow desk lamp is Sólin. Sólin is as alive, as lively as humans are so it is indecent for us if we refer to Sólin as “it”. Sólin is male desk lamp so we will refer to Sólin as “him”.

One day in a worn-out, reeking sweatshop in an overpopulated country in Asia, Sólin was born. Or manufactured, if you prefer the technical term. Sólin had no parents; he was assembled out of unused steel that apparently wasn’t a difficult thing to find these days; just go to a nearby trash mountain and salvage unused steel from unused household utensils. In our case, Sólin’s head was made from the a crushed American Abrams tank which got squashed by the enormous, Russian-made Teslabot, a seventy-meter tall supermachine made by the secret formula of Tesla, that has been a world mystery for centuries. Which, by the way, was also blown to bits by the all-feared deathly missile shot by the Chinese-made Xing Xua, a gargantuan warlord robot that can fly with unbelievable acceleration, and its steel was extracted to form the bottom supporting plate of Sólin.

Having a very strong “family background” that formed what he is right now makes Sólin a very feared yellow lamp. In the storage chamber in which lamps were kept in airtight shelves, Sólin made acquaintance with many of the other lamps. There was the blue luminescent lamp made from a small sample of the stratosphere with the name of Fjanur. There was the red with glowing bright bubbles moving back and forth in its container—a lava lamp Sólin discovered, Sígur. The airtight shelves contained at most three lamps and they were in the shelf in the center of the room.

Inside that dark, cold airtight shelves, Sólin began to make friends with the two other lamps. At first it was awkward; the glances, the introductions. But the more they interact, the closer they got. Even after a few days they knew quite a lot about each other. Sólin himself discovered the fact that Fjanur was formed by a group of high school science fiction fans who had got nothing to do and decided to steal a highly classified container of the stratosphere from the national space institution.

Sólin, however, felt a certain feeling towards Sígur, a feeling different than what he felt towards Fjanur. At times, when the working people darkened the lights at the storage chamber—indicating that it was time for the working people to go to their beds, Sólin stole a nice, quiet time to talk in secret with Sígur and they became lovers without Fjanur knowing.

What Sólin didn’t know, however, was that Sígur had already been involved in a relationship with Fjanur. In fact, their wedding was going to be held in a few days and that they had attempted to exit the shelf to send invitations to other lamps in other shelves. They, of course, failed due to their inability to manipulate the shelves’ security. They only managed to attract the lamps sheltered in nearby shelves, but they were relieved: a few people is better than nothing.

The following day, as the workers woke up and reinstated the lights of the chambers, Sólin decided to go for it and make a head-to-head contact, a gesture which human equivalent would be “kissing”. They “kissed” and “kissed”, voice of metal clanging and brushing against each other reverberated inside the airtight shelf. Clang. Clang. And more kiss. Clang. Sólin’s head slid down, following the thin contour of Sígur’s bright red body. Clang.

Clang! Fjanur woke up. Fjanur could not believe what he was seeing in front of his eyes; his blue, atmospheric bulb flickered with light blue light, then dark blue and then switches back and forth. Sígur watched the whole event unfold in front of her eyes.

Fjanur’s stratosphere substance exploded by the random chemical reactions inside his body, which equivalent to human outrage.

And then… silence.


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