Sons of Tattooine

Rain. It was something the sun baked rock called Tattooine saw little if any of. On this night it fell from the heavens in buckets on the sandy ground that so desperately needed it. A young boy emerged from his dome shaped adobe homestead and gazed out at the vast empty plain of featureless sand. A flash of lightning broke the sky overhead. He began to walk into the vast desert that he had come to call home. The cries of the deadly Tusken Raiders rose from the sand from everywhere and nowhere at once. The rain poured down and soaked his sandy hair and clothes; this was the first rainstorm he'd experienced and it would probably be his last too. The boy walked further and further, mystified by the Tusken's animal like calls.

Suddenly there came an animal cry only a few meters away from him. He turned three hundred and sixty degrees before he realized that he was lost. Suddenly frightened he ran; he had no idea which way home was but he still ran.


Three Tusken Raiders rose from the ground like the essence of the sand and surrounded the helpless boy. All carried deadly gaffi sticks. In the pouring rain the Sand People resemble horrible undead mummies with their wrapped faces and hands. The boy fell backwards at the sight of them and landed in a fresh puddle of mud that soaked his desert tunic. Lightning broke the sky behind the Tuskens further adding to their sinister look. More surrounded him; they seemed to have come from nowhere, but yet somewhere. One of the Tuskens raised his gaffi stick above his head and prepared to split the boy's head. The young man seeing it was the end shut his eyes tight.


The otherworlders had plagued the Tuskens for to long now, they would exterminate the last of them. This boy's death would be a message to any others who dared tread on Tusken land again. The Tusken warrior smiled from beneath his wrappings as he looked upon the boy set to die.


There came the sound of a lightsaber igniting fallowed by Tusken grunts, not the signaling type, but the type given by a dying animal. The boy opened his eyes to see what he took for a Jedi Knight. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. His blue bladed lightsaber sliced through the raiders with unrivaled ease. An enraged Tusken rushed in behind the boy, determined on finishing the job. The stick was raised in hostility. Before he could make another move the Jedi's blade had pierced his heart and he fell lifeless before the boy. In total seven Tuskens now laid dead around the boy. He stood up and met the Jedi's reckless eyes.


Biggs Darklighter had only heard stories of the Jedi whom isolated themselves from the galaxy in their Temple on the bustling city world of Coruscant. This one was different from the others. In that he wore a black synth-leather jerkin instead of the usual coarse Jedi robes. Lightning broke the sky behind the Jedi.


Anakin looked into the eyes of the boy whom he'd just saved from the raiders. He saw himself there still a slave on the harsh world. That life was behind him know. He was a Jedi know. The lightsaber was deactivated. Anakin turned and walked away, his work here was done. When he was several meters away he heard the boy call out, "W-wait. W-who are you?" He didn't answer, he didn't need to and kept walking.

                                                                     -Joshua Yoder-