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In (for my first time). Flash song, please.
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Apr 6, 2016 00:23
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 14:30 |
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Pre-dawn 1,169 words Disturbance at the Heron House “Ready for your first day in the salt mines?” The brown-haired woman asked as she handed me a cup of warm, but not hot, coffee. “I hope so,” I smiled and took it. It tasted terrible, but then almost everything on this moon did. She took her seat in the small circle of strangers that I’d been invited into almost as soon as I’d walked into the small diner cum cafe. “It’s not salt, it’s ore.” One of the men rubbed a hand over his face. “And it’s too early to be so loving pedantic.” Another woman elbowed him in the ribs. He smiled wearily and drained his coffee. “Anyone need a refill?” He asked as he stood. A few hands went up and he walked over to the small counter at the back of the place. I’d only been on the moon for a week, and figured going to the same dingy cafe everyone else did before the early morning shift at the ore-processing plant was as good a place as any to meet people. The rest of the patrons were bundled up and bleary-eyed, drinking tepid coffee in small groups like this one. The second sun hadn’t risen yet but the place was packed. “Sorry about Mr. I-got-an-engineering-degree-downwell. I’m Toma, by the way.” The woman who’d elbowed him reached across the table to shake my hand. I took it gladly. “Sam. Nice to meet you all.” The rest introduced themselves. From what I gathered they were all friends, or at the very least co-workers at the plant. “You don’t seem local,” a man named Vitya said, “Sam isn’t a very common name around here.” “I’m new in town.” I said before taking a sip of my coffee. Vitya was about to speak again when Toma cut him off. “You’re from Pallas, aren’t you?” I didn’t respond but after a moment she nodded, convinced by my lack of a response. “What the hell did you come here for?” Things between Pallas and Medusa, the larger of its two moons, were less than ideal. The planet had been fully terraformed for nearly a century while the moon’s colonies were barely on their feet, and the Commonwealth-mandated shipments upwell were expensive enough that Palladians were starting to complain, citing their own infrastructure issues. The recent unrest in the outer-belt mining operations wasn’t helping matters either. “Are you a criminal?” The brown-haired woman, Sindiwe was staring at me, far too excited at the prospect. “No, but I might have been if I’d stayed. Things aren’t as great down there as people here seem to think.” I looked back to Toma. “How could you tell?” She folded her arms and sat back in her chair. “You drink your coffee like Ed does. He says he picked it up while he was in school downwell.” I fumbled the cup in my hands before setting it down on the table. I didn’t even want to touch it if something so simple gave me away. “What the hell?” Vitya said, half-standing as he turned toward the back counter. I followed his gaze and saw Louis and a crush of other patrons in a heated debate, several gesturing toward the restaurant’s small radio. A server finally went over and turned the volume up. A wave of silence fell over the cafe starting at the counter until we could hear the radio despite being on the opposite end of the room. “Everest-Moore has been assassinated, according to an official statement from the Commonwealth High Council. Further trade agreements between Pallas and its dependent moon Medusa will be delayed. A spokesperson from the Council went on to say–” “Is this a joke?” Sindiwe whispered. Toma shook her head slightly and turned toward the window, frowning. “No.” People were spilling into the square that had been nearly empty just a few minutes before. There was no real direction to their movement and patrons from the bar began leaving to join the growing crowd outside. Louis had made his way back to the table, coffees entirely forgotten. “Did you hear that?” He said, breathless. “That Duke who was supposed to be heading up the trade talks. Shot right in the middle of the Palace of Light.” “He deserves it, the bastard.” Toma was glaring at the window now. I knew who Duke Everest-Moore was, of course. He was one of the elected officials for my Charter, on top of being titled. A few years ago he’d married a Medusan woman named Collette in what was supposed to be an act of solidarity with the moon, but people on both sides saw it as pandering, and at worst, traitorous. “We should leave,” Vitya was shifting from foot to foot, nervously watching through the window as the restaurant emptied. The noise of the crowd outside was rising, movement growing more chaotic. It looked light fights were starting to break out in pockets. “I think we’re better off staying in here.” Toma said, finally getting up to take a few steps away from the window. Louis was about to speak when something — probably a cobble from the square outside — crashed through the window, sending glass shards skittering across the table and floor of the cafe. We all jumped back just as a press of people followed the rock and fell through the shattered window. There were fists and blood everywhere. I nearly fell as someone grabbed the back of my coat, pulling me away from the window and deeper into the cafe. I turned, ready to defend myself from someone who I imagined had seen me holding my coffee the wrong way. But it was Sindiwe, dragging me to the back counter where the rest of the group was already taking shelter. She pushed me behind the counter and into a puddle of spilled coffee. “This is a riot.” Louis said flatly. He was already sitting, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Just keep low. We don’t wanna be out there when the Militsiya shows up.” Toma sat down next to him, Vitya and Sindiwe crowded in behind her. We jumped as another window shattered, but the mob didn’t seem to press in much farther other than a single looter who took a few half-empty bottles of liquor from behind the counter as we watched her. The Militsiya did show up, much sooner than expected. Gunfire cracked through the square for several minutes until the noise of the crowd had died down almost completely. Even then, we stayed behind the counter for about half an hour until Sindiwe finally poked her head around the counter. “Everyone’s gone,” she relayed to us, “just a few-” she paused and took a breath, “injured people outside on the ground.” Toma was the first to stand. “Yeah, it’s over.” She looked down at me with a dry smile and offered a hand to help me up. “Welcome to Medusa.”
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Apr 10, 2016 23:16
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In, I'll take a flash.
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Apr 12, 2016 01:12
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Falling Star 1,005 words Someone was still standing outside of Crane’s office door. The silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass looked to be a man, probably young. Definitely nervous. “It's open.” Crane finally called. He almost smiled when the man jumped. After a moment the man came in, head bowed. He was young, barely 30 if Crane had to guess. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes in a few days. But few people who walked into this office ever looked their best. Crane poured a second glass of liquor out and pushed it across his desk before gesturing for the man to take a seat. He did smile when the man finally looked at him and startled again. Although, smiling probably didn’t help because the man stayed where he was. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crane, I didn’t—” the man started. “Yeah, I know, kid. ‘What’s a dragon doing in the private investigation business?’ Let’s just say I made a few bad investments in my time and now I’ve got to put food on the table just like everyone else.” Crane sat back in his chair and scratched his snout with a long, dull claw. “Now what’s got you lurking outside my door this late on a Thursday night? Owe some money to the wrong people? Girl troubles?” He looked the man over again, “Boy troubles? I’m not gonna judge.” With a few short steps, the man finally sat down and took the liquor glass in both hands, staring into it like an alley-way fortune teller. “My girlfriend, she—” he stopped as his voice hitched, shoulders shaking. He took a sip of the liquor, cringing. “Gin?” Crane shrugged and drained his own glass before pouring himself a generous serving. He was probably going to need it the way this kid was worked up. The man cleared his throat and continued, “she’s dead. At least I’m pretty sure she’s dead.” The dragon sighed. “Sounds like a job for the cops. You do know what a private eye does, right?” The man gave him a look that wasn’t entirely dissimilar to the expression of the last half-frozen sea bass Crane had seen while browsing the downtown fish market. Crane resettled his wings before rubbing the scales between his eyes. “Ok listen, if you need to report a missing person or God forbid a murder, you need to go down to the police station. This really isn’t the kind of thing—” “She’s a star.” “What?” Crane squinted and pushed his glass of gin away. “I mean an actual,” the man mimed a large sphere in front of himself, “star. Except not anymore. Something… someone did something and she’s a black hole now.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a large envelope, handing it across the desk to Crane. “I tried the cops but they said her solar system was out of their jurisdiction. Then I tried some local astronomers and they gave me that. Open it.” Crane took the envelope and opened it gingerly so the thin paper didn’t catch on his scales. He’d had to pay for more than one library book because of that. A series of glossy 8x10"s were inside, each one showing what looked to him to be nothing. Just an expanse of near darkness, or an extremely underexposed photo, it was hard to say which. “You’re gonna have to tell me what I’m looking at,” he said after staring at each of the photos for what seemed a polite amount of time. The man leaned forward quickly and took a photo, pointing to a slightly less black region of the picture, “This here, this is something the astronomers saw. It’s an image caught in her event horizon, I think it’s her murderer. I know it’s hard to make out but that’s where you come in.” The dragon kept his eyes on the photograph. He knew exactly what he’d see if he looked up. That look of desperate hope he’d seen a hundred times before. He didn’t have the heart to see it again. “Did she have any enemies?” He asked. “No.” The man almost sounded surprised. “She's the sweetest thing you’d ever met. She donates to the local animal shelter every year for crissake.” He made a strange choked noise, and with his voice cracking said, “we’d just gotten engaged. I bought the ring and everything. She just… exploded she was so happy!” Crane looked up now, sharply. “Do you mean she went supernova?” Hell if this wasn’t the only thing he remembered from fifth grade science class. “Super— Oh my God. Oh my God.” The man looked like he’d been shot. “I did it. It’s my fault she’s dead, isn’t it?” Before Crane could speak the man was sobbing, coughing and spluttering all over the desk and the 8x10" glossies. He went on like that for a while and Crane waited, sipping his gin until the man was only snuffling and hiccuping. “You know,” Crane said, “just because she’s different doesn’t necessarily mean she’s dead. You should try talking to her, give her a call and see what happens. I’m guessing you probably haven’t tried since she went dark.” The man looked up at Crane and shook his head. “I just assumed… her light was there one day and gone the next, I thought-” “You might just think too much, kid. You want my opinion as a professional? Go home, take a shower and get some rest. Call up your fiancee in the morning. She’s probably wondering where the hell you’ve been.” “Thank you, Mr. Crane,” The man stood, scrambling to collect the wet photographs off the desk, “thank you so much.” “Don’t mention it. Now get out of here and let me know if I was right when you get a chance. Otherwise I’ll take your case pro bono.” The man nodded and thanked him again before leaving. Crane smiled. It was a good day when he could solve a case without leaving his office.
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Apr 17, 2016 17:59
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I'll take the Austrian entry, LoIN d'ici.
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Apr 19, 2016 03:19
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Looking for Paradise 1,156 words Austria: ZOË - "Loin d'ici" The pilgrims had camped on either side of the sacred meadow, as per tradition. The priest made sure of the locations before going on about how the field was the goddess’s temple, ‘the oaks and sycamores form the buttresses of this holy structure, the sky above us the ceiling of her cathedral!’ The lieutenant had thought all of it was horseshit, but she stayed silent. She was a professional, and now wasn’t the time to break ranks. The pilgrims had made it this far, and she owed it to them to at least respect the trial they’d come so far for. They had been on the road for a long time heading to this place, the extent of the drought only made clearer by every mile. They’d spent months on dusty roads, often skirting around the dessicated corpses of animals, or occasionally, of people. The wildfires that scarred the land lead to detours and even more time on the road. Not all the pilgrims had made it. The meadow seemed a mirage when they first arrived. The air was cool and the sun gentle. The flowers took them all by surprise. The pilgrims had run through the field, trampling the hyacinths, wood violets and buttercups. Several found their robes caught in flowering brambles or hung on the thorns of wild roses. Butterflies and honeybees were so numerous it was almost impossible to tell plant from insect. They laughed and fell among the flowers, and it was little wonder. None of them had seen so much life before. “They said we’d find paradise here.” The lieutenant’s lover had said. Neither of them had run into the field as the others had, staying instead under the shade of the oaks at the meadow’s border. “They did.” The lieutenant replied before she set to making camp. The sun wouldn’t be up for much longer. The goddess was angry, the priest had reminded them more than once on the way to the meadow. Her people had grown complacent in the bounty she’d bestowed on them and abandoned the sacred rites and rituals of thanks for far too long. It was justice that plague and drought and fire had scoured the land. ‘This pilgrimage is a desperate measure, yes,’ he would say and the pilgrims would nod sullenly, ‘but aren’t the sins of the people so great that it is necessary?’ The lieutenant’s lover was one of the pilgrims. She’d been selected by lottery as her town’s representative. More than once she’d attempted to flee into the scrubland and each time the lieutenant had retrieved her. They’d come together slowly over the course of weeks, and her now-lover had stopped running away. The few days before the ceremony went quickly. The lieutenant had been busy watching the pilgrims for signs of desertion and refused to abandon her post, no matter how many times her lover begged for them to slip into the trees together, if only for a few precious moments. Just before dawn on the day of the ceremony the priest returned from the other pilgrim camp. His attendants — pilgrims themselves — had mostly prepared the group for the day’s events. Everyone wore loose light robes, flowers picked from the fields wound in their hair and brier thorns braided around their arms. The lieutenant was almost finished handing them the daggers they would need and walked to her lover last. “Stay close to me,” she whispered and handed the woman a weapon before taking her place behind the group. The priest commanded them them to go toward the center of the meadow where the other group was already walking, attended by their own soldier. The wind had picked up from a gentle breeze to something more frantic and it only grew wilder as they reached the middle of the field. By the time each group stopped, forming lines only fifteen feet apart, flower petals were being torn from stems and tossed through the air. “We make this sacrifice,” the priest bellowed into the wind, voice cracking with the effort, “in the unspeakable name of the goddess who brings us death that she might give us life once more.” He went on for a few more minutes of liturgy that the lieutenant ignored. She was watching the other soldier. He was imposing, armored in full plate which seemed entirely foolish to her. It was far to bulky to go running after pilgrims in, and yet he’d either worn or carried it with him the entire way here. She brushed a flower petal from her face to hide a smile. No one had run by the time the priest had finished the last prayer. He stepped back from the two lines of pilgrims and rang a small bell, and chaos broke loose. The two lines lunged at each other clumsily, a few pilgrims tripped over the dry bones of the last sacrifices, joining them on the ground and soon after in death. The screaming started before the first dagger was buried into a fallen woman’s chest. One young man had held back from the initial charge and she saw the fear in his eyes. Good. He dropped his dagger and took off for the forest, the soldier was soon after him but hindered by his armor he stood almost no chance of catching the boy. The lieutenant ran toward the priest, her lover breaking off from the melee to follow beside her. The man started to scream, something about the sacred power of blood, but stopped when the lieutenant’s sword found its way to his heart. Almost as soon as it had started the violence ended and the wind stopped.The pilgrims all lay dead or dying, the blood splattered flowers around them shuddering despite the still air. Over sobs of pain, the lieutenant and her lover heard a scream from the edge of the meadow. A moment later the armored man reappeared, walking calmly towards them. The closer he came the hotter the sun blazed from the horizon. Neither of them moved. “Hubris,” a voice came, at first she thought from under the man’s helmet, but, no. The voice came from everywhere. “Was hubris not your greatest sin? Did hubris not lead you to these bloody tributes?” The lieutenant leveled her sword at the man — or whatever it was that was in the armor. Her lover stayed close, placing a hand on her shoulder. The thing laughed and the armor started to split and peel apart like burning paper. For the briefest moment, she saw a woman there in a flash of smoke and blinding light. The stars themselves crowned her head and her body was white fire. And then she was gone, only a pile of ash where the armor had been. “Go on, then.” The voice continued,from everywhere and nowhere, “see how long you live without my help.” “We will,” the lieutenant’s lover said, soft yet resolute, "we will."
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Apr 25, 2016 01:55
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 14:30 |
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Thanks for the crits!
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Apr 25, 2016 22:21
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