They dug the finest resources from the soil, and melted them together to form a smooth shining liquid. From this they formed contours and shapes, bonded with cogs, bolts, wires, nuts, gears that formed an intricate lace. Reverently, that shakily poured oil down a hatch then flicked a wheel that spun wildly, throwing sparks across the room. Slowly, the cogs began to tick, connecting the paths throughout the metal space. Once they were satisfied, they closed the front. Lightbulbs flickered on, shadowed behind ridged glass, and he raised his head. The brass man looked to each pair of eyes as they waited, apprehensive. The minutes ticked past, you could hear them faintly through his chest, but he would not speak.
He was alive inside, although they could not see it. He was self aware, noticing that it was himself in the mirror they held up for him. He knew of death as he could see the difference between the bird lying on the floor, and those chasing eachother across the sunrise. He knew if he hit somebody it would hurt them, and would make them sad. The brass man knew what sad was. He knew it when he looked into eyes and could see their disappointment. He knew it when they stopped talking to him althogether. He knew it when he looked into the sky, and couldn't wink back. Although, without someone to talk to, the people became bored, and left the brass man.
The trees started to shake, and the ground trembled. The brass man was moving to the end of the forest, as winter was coming and there was nobody to talk to in the winter. The robin that was perched on his shoulder fluttered its wings, shifting the twigs that it was weaving into a nest. The brass man smiled (for he could, even though nobody could see it). Rabbits scattered as he came wading through the grass, but soon were winding through his legs as he strode on. With each step he left a deep grooved footprint, stained with oil. A gentle wind blew, catching small particles of rust that dusted his shoulders and head. Small wires sparked as they caught on the undergrowth, spilling out from an empty cavity. His lightbulb eyes flickered, while his delicate hands twitched, and his hinges screeched.
He drew to a sudden halt, the final clang of his footsteps echoing around the trees behind him. Ahead of him was a sea of lights, shining and glittering from out of the dark. They seemed to rise and fall in waves over the sunset, small orbs of orange that were reflected on the clouds around them. He felt enchanted by the beauty of the town, as its clockwork ticked, and its engine whirred. The street lamps seemed to burn the skies, smoke filled the air. He felt petrified, it was a moving, metal monster come to eat him whole. It devoured the skies, a giant black cloud rising and rising. He could no longer see any lights winking in the sky.
The brass man was afraid of what man had become. He sighed and lowered onto the ground, where he sat with his head in his hands, and waited for them to make it better.
