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Tag Archives: short story
Today would be a good day for specimen-hunting.
Thick green foliage blocked the first rays of sunlight brightening the deep blue sky. Outside the curtain-less window, the thermometer registered a temperature of 78 degrees at eight a.m.-perfect conditions. Continue reading
Sidra closed her eyes as she listened to the story being told by Marcus, one of the other residents of the hardened shelter on Patrick Air Force Base. His deep voiced resonated through the main hall, no doubt carrying through the dimly lit corridors beyond. Tonight’s tale was a favorite of hers, a story about Old Earth like her father used to tell.
Sidra tried to keep her mind focused on the image of sidewalks bustling with people while the horns of passing cars honked a merry tune. It must have been beautiful once, on the outside. Sidra tried to picture a blue sky arching over tall buildings made of reflective windows that sparkled in the sunlight. Her mind couldn’t hold the image. The picture kept changing to grey skies meeting grey land. Soon her thoughts strayed to the day when winter came too soon, and never left. Continue reading
What could it mean? What would happen to me?
I stared at the empty mirror for what seemed an eternity before I finally forced myself to shower. Meanwhile an internal battle raged.
The only thing I could imagine is that my lack of reflection meant I would no longer exist; that sometime, before dawn tomorrow, I would be dead. Continue reading
The day before my seventh birthday I looked into the bathroom mirror after gathering my toothbrush and toothpaste, and there I was, wearing a shirt that I didn’t recognize and a conical paper hat which read Happy Birthday. Continue reading
Swim we did, through rolling seas until we finally reached the unwillingly abandoned ship. One by one we climbed aboard and fell, exhausted, to the deck. I wanted to remain, to rest as the adrenaline seeped from my body, but Gavin urged me forward. He led me below deck to a hold full of crates and barrels. I recognized the containers as the same kind we’d found inside the castle.
“Food!” I cried as I rushed toward the nearest crate.
Gavin joined me with a tool much like the one Taya had found before.
“Step back,” Gavin directed as he wedged the metal bar under the wooden slats which formed the lid.
I complied, wringing my hands in anticipation. Continue reading
The full moon cast a shimmering path across the sea and I stared at the gentle waves with longing in my heart. My hair hung in matted clumps, the salt-stiff weight pulled on my neck. My skin itched and cracked, begging for moisture, but I could not return home, not yet.
I crept from my hiding place amidst the shadows of the trees and stood in the open , scanning for any signs of movement. The soft lap of water on sand soothed my ragged nerves as I walked across the beach toward the ship which held the man in chains. Continue reading
Crates and barrels were stacked atop each other, covering nearly every inch of the hard-packed dirt floor. Stepping deeper into the room I let my fingers slide along the rough surface of what the land dwellers called wood.
My hand jerked away and I cried out as a sharp pain pierced one finger. Imalia moved closer with the light and I turned my hand over to find a sliver of wood embedded in my skin. A bright red bead of my own blood welled from the point of entry. With the nails of my opposite hand I extracted the splinter and set it carefully atop the offending crate lest one of us step on the sharp point later.
“What if they find out we’re mermaids? My brother said that they would torture us and never let us return to the water.” Imalia’s voice shook slightly as she spoke.
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “How would they know? As long as they don’t see us getting in or out we’ll be fine.”
My friends contemplated this in silence as we sped through the dark ocean waters. Continue reading
“Are you hungry?” I kept my voice low since sound carried easily down the long empty tunnels of rock through which we traveled. I didn’t know if anyone had tried to follow.
“I could use a break.” Dr. Grayson replied.
Nodding, I stopped and slipped my pack off my shoulders and sat down. I pressed my back and shoulder blades against the cool damp wall in an attempt to stretch muscles which burned from constant bending and scrunching. Dr. Gryson joined me as I rifled through the contents of my bag. Continue reading
In case you need to catch up, here’s the link to parts one through five of Safia’s Story.
My fingers worked of their own accord, nimbly weaving the long tendrils of unearthed roots together into a long rope. The idea had occurred to me the first evening after that test. Sitting by the fire with no weapon I had felt anxious, vulnerable. We had no real means of protection except perhaps Bryony’s stone-tipped spear which she typically used as a walking stick. Somehow I wasn’t too keen on the thought of relying on the old woman for help. After all, she had simply stood there, watching, smiling even as I was dragged across the ground. Continue reading