Story of Swindlings

You are a creature with no name, with the head of a spotlight and a body of light driftwood, your twindling hands wire and stick with six fingers on each, your feet planted into the stars as you watch above a stage of green.

On the stage below you are little creatures. They had no name, so you gave them one. Swindlings.

You don't know where the Swindlings came from, nor do you know why. It seemed like an eternity of nothing before your light flickered on, and the stage was lit up in your otherworldly glow.

The Swindlings are odd creatures, small hairy pompoms with one small button eye and three noses. They scurry about on five legs and two claws, climbing the stage curtains and digging in the apron. There weren't many at first, but when they sung a special song together they could multiply to threes, fours, and fives.

The Swindlings loved to climb and dig, and at first that is all they did. Few Swindlings saw you. At first they would wave, then draw pictures of you, form statues of clay resembling stage lights. In return, you would clap and cheer, which would make the Swindlings very happy.

But the stage would get cold even in your warm light, and so the Swindlings would bunch together during the times your glow was dim and sleep for days on end.

Eventually, they formed patterns, certain Swindlings were tasked with climbing the curtains to collect the strips of dust along the top of them. Others were tasked with digging for more clay, to build more statues and shape more stories for them to pass along.

Certain Swindlings became bigger. They would nip at the toes of other Swindlings, getting violent and not singing during the night with the others yet hoard the warmth in the middle of the pile.

On the other hand, some of them would get their fuzz stolen by others trying to become bigger. Sometimes these small ones would put up a fight, other times... they sat in one place humming a single note until they were nothing.

Soon, the Swindlings forgot about you. They lost track of the hours and could no longer hear you clap, they began making clay statues of other shapes and beings you couldn't recognize.

They began tearing each other's clay statues down, to gather more clay for theirs. They began ripping at the curtains and hogging the center stage, they began screeching notes that rang in your ears.

The Swindlings were not happy. And you were not happy.

You thought maybe if you let them know you were there, they'd stop shrinking and growing and organizing and go back to scuttling about happily and dancing and singing like they did once. You pulled their hairs, placed small splinters from your hands onto the stage. But they didn't notice.

Your light began to dim.

The nights grew colder, as their clay hardened and their dust blew away.

You turned off your stage light.

In the dark, you sat.

And a light flickered on stage.

One of the small Swindlings began to glow.

Soon, all huddled around the warmth, too began to glow. Bright, brighter than the stars, brighter than you.

And they began to shine onto you, as you once shined onto them.

And you felt a strong feeling in your chest, an overwhelming joy and comfort you had never felt before, a warmth you thought exclusive to Swindlings and bundles.

They began to dance again, warming up the world around them in a bright light. They would sing together, they would play together.

And you loved them, as they loved each other.