Trina: The Shadow Boy Finds the Android

A belated introduction.

The character named Trina first shows up in my work in 1986.

Trina: A Slice of Death

A digital photograph of an avatar that represents an alternate named Trina
The Snake in the Grass

Trina has the power of imagination and uses it to control her world, for this she uses a journal and dolls.

Trina is probably based on the character of the Little Prince by Antoine de
Saint-Exupéry
.

The Little Prince on his Asteroid

A prompt from D. Wallace Peach inspired this new, ongoing fable.

The story begins when Trina meets a little shadow boy In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows and continues with Trina and The Android at Saks. 

‘Trina and the Android at Saks’ closes with the disappearance of a golden android.

The May #PhotoPrompt from Myths of the Mirror
The May photo prompt from Myths of the Mirror

In this section, Trina and the Shadow Boy find the android at Macy’s.


A digital photograph staged in VR depicting a shadow boy standing in front of three robots
The Little Shadow Boy Finds the Android

One day the little Shadow Boy found the golden android on a display stand at Macy’s.

He was giddy with joy and raced to find Trina, who was by the duck pond in Central Park with her doll Madison, and a doll he didn’t know.

The shadow boy paused.

Trina saw his gathering shadow and waved him over.

“I saw him!” cried the little shadow boy.

“Trina gave him a cup of tea, “The android?” she asked.

“ Yes!” grinned the shadow boy.

“Oh yay!” Trina clapped. “Where is he?”

He’s in the robot department at Macy’s,” then the shadow boy
pointed at Trina’s new doll. “Who’s that?

“That’s my new doll, said Trina.

Trina’s new doll smiled.

“What’s her name?” asked the shadow boy.

“I don’t know, do you?”

The little shadow boy cocked his head and thought.

“Her name is Felicity.”

“That sounds right.” Trina replied; then she stuffed Felicity
into her bag and said, “Let’s go!

A photograph staged in VR depicting a little girl and a shadow boy standing in front of three robots
Trina and the Shadow Boy find the Android

The Shadow boy led Trina to the robot department at Macy’s.

The android saw them and clicked happily into gear.

The three of them stared at each other in silence.

Finally, Trina opened her bag and said, “Hop in and I’ll make you a skin.”

The android peered at Trina’s bag and hopped in.

Trina hugged the shadow boy and told him to close his eyes; when he opened them, he was in Trina’s workshop.

The shadow boy watched from the shadows as Trina went to work at her sewing machine. It took hours, but when she was done, the android had a new skin and new clothes.

A digital photograph of a little girl and an android in a workshop for dolls
Trina Takes the Android to Her Workshop

As Trina dressed the android, the shadow boy stepped out of the shadows.

“He’s very handsome.” The shadow boy said, “but why are his clothes so weird.”

He lives in the past.” Trina replied.

Trina brought the android a mirror; the android silently studied his face.

Not bad” he said. His voice was deep and resonant.

“I think it’s quite excellent.” Trina’s statement was an irritable command.

The android clicked with dismay, “Oh yes!” He stammered, “It’s quite excellent; quite excellent indeed.”

Digital photogaph of a little girl in a workship where she makes dolls
Trina Makes the Android a New Skin and Outfit

Trina was happy again.

“Let’s go to the park and write a story.” She said.

“That’s an excellent idea,” the android relied, “quite excellent indeed.”

Words and Illustrations (c) Rob Goldstein 2019

Cracked Ice #writephoto

Poetry from Myths of the Mirror.

Myths of the Mirror

cracked-ice

Flight of Faith

When I was a child, I could fly
you and I hopped in dirt-road afternoons
faithful
and the dust-wind flung us over seas of wheat
scuffed shoes skimming the feathered awns
we whipped around the corners of the barn
in a home-sewn world of farm-hewn hands
our secret futures soared

In the veins of my hands
the blue brooks of time stream by
Somewhere on the way, I unlearned how to fly
and trod worn paths through autumn’s lea
snapped night’s brittle ice
shards of fractured faith
glinting in my wake

Today’s morning purls in plumrose
cast on a withering season’s stark debris
spangled with winter’s gilded rime
a new path of violet ice wends to the horizon
fragile, fissured, a wish yet unbroken
my secret future soars
faithful
and I wonder if I might fly
one last time

This attempt at poetry was in response to Sue…

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