A Fork In the Road Part 2

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Part Two

“Burdens Are Best Shared.”

Despite Gerard’s encouragement, Sonia waited to hear her husband snoring before creeping into his study to fetch the book. Her furtiveness surprised her until she realized she had lied to her husband.

Sonia did believe.

Retreating to the sanctuary of her kitchen, Sonia sat and gazed at the book. Memories came of long summer days, playing with friends under the watchful eye of Auntie Paulina, who, in the heat of the afternoon, invited the children onto her shady porch for chilled tea, freshly baked sweetbread, and a story. Those were magical times, but nothing compared to the moments spent alone with Auntie Paulina when the old woman would whisper her secrets.

Sonia could still remember when her aunt first spoke about reading tea leaves.

How is it you know so much, Auntie? 

The leaves tell me.

Do you talk to trees? I never hear them speaking.

Not the leaves on trees, tea leaves. I’ll show you. Have you learned to count to one hundred?

Yes.

Good. Think of a number between one and one hundred.

Ok. It’s…

Don’t tell me, dear. The tea will show me.

Sonia never forgot the thrill of watching the old woman close her eyes with a dramatic exhale, pausing briefly before loudly slurping her entire cup of tea. 

Best if it’s hot enough to scald your mouth.

Then Sonia’s great-aunt put her saucer atop her cup, turned both upsides down, and set them on the table. After rapping the bottom of the cup three times with her hand, she lifted the cup to reveal a mess of tea leaves splattered across the saucer.

You chose twenty-seven.

Yes. But how…?

Just have to keep an open mind when you look.

Can I learn how to do this?

I wish you would.

The woman had clearly practiced some form of hedge witchery, and Sonia wondered what she would have learned if her aunt had lived longer. Yet, the old woman had died before having a chance to teach her anything.

Sonia soon discovered the rest of the family felt uneasy around the old woman, especially her mother, who warned Sonia of what happened to people who dabbled in the occult. Fear kept Sonia from crossing the line her mother had drawn, and her younger self burned with guilt every time she found herself pondering the dregs of her cup. But time had dulled the sting of her mother’s threats, and she now found herself willing to explore.

Sonia got up and put the kettle, vowing to pull it off before it whistled. 

“Don’t need Gerard awake and asking questions.”

Returning to her seat, Sonia opened the book and began flipping pages until an illustration caught her eye. Exploring further, Sonia realized she had stumbled upon a glossary of imagery frequently found in the tea leaves left behind.   

“Coins indicate money; that’s obvious. A heart suggests romance, of course. Oh, a wasp. What’s that mean? Ooh… a possible affair or rival lover!”

Losing herself momentarily in the book, Sonia failed to notice the quiet rumble of water building before it was too late. Swearing, she leaped, yanked the kettle from the burner, and paused to listen for her husband. But Gerard remained in bed, apparently still asleep.

Relieved, she threw a couple scoops of herbal tea into her cup. Sonia reflected as she poured the hot water, wondering how to pose her question. When satisfied with the wording, she picked her cup up and, mimicking her great-aunt’s actions from long ago, took a cleansing breath before speaking her question.

“What’s going on between Sabina and her boyfriend, Casimir?”

Sonia slurped her tea, immediately grimacing as the heat stung her tongue.

“Hot! Hot! Hot! How in the hell did Auntie gulp this down? It burns horribly!”

Taking a few deep breaths, Sonia prepared to try again but lost the nerve seeing the steam continue to rise.

“Crazy old woman.”

Frustrated, Sonia glowered at her cup until the sound of the refrigerator cycling on gave her an idea. 

“Ha! That’s it! I’ll trade one burn for another.”

Sonia opened the freezer door, pulled out the ice bin, set it on the table before her, rolled a sleeve, and shoved a hand in. As the skin on her hand tingled, she raised the cup with her other hand and carefully blew on it. 

“I’ll try again once my hand aches. Tea should be cool enough then.”

Feeling like she had solved an impossible riddle, Sonia waited. When all traces of steam had disappeared, she clutched the cup in both hands and drank.

Surprisingly, the tea still burned going down, warming her stomach and causing beads of perspiration to erupt on her forehead. But Sonia found the prickling discomfort in her chilled hand most satisfying.

Despite pursing her lips at the end to avoid swallowing tea leaves, she had to spit a few back into the cup before covering it with the saucer. She struggled to flip them, but once she got them safely on the table, she rapped the bottom of the cup with the heel of her hand, reiterating her question, and then reverently removed the cup to see what the leaves revealed. She gasped at the exquisite clarity of the arrangement before her.

“A circle? No, a necklace. That’s a string of pearls!”

A ring of dots, spaced equidistantly, ran along the saucer’s outer edge, encircling three other unrecognizable clumps of tea. Frustrated, Sonia rotated the saucer, carefully considering each shape.

“Hmm, a feather. Yes. And that’s an umbrella! Didn’t see that when it was upside down. Now this last thing looks like… a fork? But with only two tines. No, maybe a line dividing, or is it a road? Yes, a road. It’s a fork in the road!”

Sonia slumped against the back of the chair, mouth open, stunned by her success.

“What could all that mean?”

She laughed at her own question.

“Duh! Look it up in the book, silly.”

Rifling back to the list of examples presented in the book, Sonia found entries for; feathers, necklaces, and umbrellas. Jumping from page to page, Sonia slowly pieced together a story of new lovers struggling to save a relationship plagued by uncertainty and signs of insincerity. Her heart ached to imagine the turmoil her daughter would face if she continued to date Casimir, and Sonia resolved to find a way to break the icy silence between them.

The clock in the living room chimed. Startled, Sonia looked at the time on the stove. 

“Midnight, already. Sabina should be home now.” 

As if waiting for her mother’s cue, Sonia heard the distinct rumble of her daughter’s car. 

“Ok, keep cool. Like Gerard says, don’t badger. Oh, this is going to be so difficult.”

She got up, rinsed the cup and saucer, and tucked them into the top rack of the dishwasher. Turning to gather the book and return it to Gerard’s desk, Sonia paused suddenly in doubt. 

“Damn! I was going to look, circle, up. What if it isn’t a necklace? What if it’s just a circle. Crap! I don’t want Sabina to catch me with this.”

Unable to resist, Sonia scrambled to turn the pages to read the definition. 

“Finding any circle most assuredly signals a time of successful completion or reaping the fruits from one’s toil. If the circle is dotted, this indicates the arrival of a baby.”

Sonia’s heart skipped a beat, calling to mind the line of tea leaves stretching across the saucer, forking at the end. The book contained no relevant entries about lines, forks, or roads. But, she could guess at its meaning. This last piece of information brought everything into focus. Her daughter had fallen in love with an unreliable man, thrown her lot in with his, and now Sabina found herself pregnant without a clue what to do next. 

“A fork in the road. Oh, Sabina!”

Sonia closed the book, kissed it, and solemnly returned it to Gerard’s desk, hiding it in the middle of a pile of papers. 

“Thank you, Auntie,” she whispered.

Sonia hurried to the kitchen, filled the kettle with more water, and relit the burner. Setting a couple of mugs on the table, she sat, barely managing to compose herself before hearing Sabina’s key scrape into the lock. 

“Why are you still up?” Sabina asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought some chamomile tea might help. Heard the car and pulled out a second mug if you want some.” 

Not wanting to scare her daughter off, Sonia fought to keep her emotions in check. 

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know. Lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Like what?”

“Your brother’s confirmation party, your uncle’s operation, and I’m struggling to finish knitting this blanket for Anastazja’s new baby. She’s due any time now.”

“Baby? How…wait? Who’s having a baby?”

“Anastazja.”

“Who?” 

“A new friend. It doesn’t matter. How are classes going? I suppose you were out with Casimir? You’re spending lots of time together. You really like him, huh?”

“Mom, I don’t have the energy to deal with your prying right now. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait. Don’t go.”

Sabina sighed and turned around. 

“What?”

“Your father and I had a discussion tonight.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Well, actually, it was more about me.”

“Isn’t it always about you, Mom?”

“Please, Sabina. Can you just listen to what I have to say?”

“Fine.”

“I know you and I are very different….”

“That’s for sure.”

“I know I can be pushy, loud, and nosy.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Sabina, what I’m trying to say, is I’m sorry. My mother and I were so close….”

“Oh, not this again. Stop. I’m going to bed.”

“Sabina, wait. Let me finish.”

“You’ve said all this before. I know how this goes. You drone on and on, talking in circles, saying the same thing. Unless you have something new to say, I’m going to bed.”

“Ok. I get it. You’re tired. I’ll be quick.”

Sabina huffed but didn’t leave.

“I want you to know I’m going to try harder to respect boundaries, keep my nose out of your affairs and finally start treating you as an adult.”

Sabina stood, listening, appearing surprised.

“I have no idea how to begin changing my behavior, Sabina. But something needs to change because I feel like I’ve lost you, and I know that’s my fault.”

Shocked by her daughter’s silent attentiveness, Sonia continued cautiously.

“Your father thinks things will be better between us if I just let go and let you live your life on your own terms. I’m probably failing miserably at that even now, but I want to try. That’s all. Thank you for listening. I love you. Sleep well. Good night.”

Sonia stood abruptly, scooped the mugs from the table, and turned to put them back in the cupboard. She wanted to say more and ask the questions battering about inside her, but for the first time, Sonia managed to dam it all up. 

“What are you doing?” Sabina asked. 

Startled by the question, Sonia whirled around to see her daughter standing there. 

“I’m not in the mood for tea anymore,” Sonia said.

“Well, I am.” 

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

Sabina hugged her mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

“I know how difficult that was for you, and I really appreciate it, Mom.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

“Mom?”

“What?”

“Would you make us some chamomile tea? I have a lot on my mind, and I’ll sleep better if I talk it out.”

The End

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A Fork In the Road Part 1

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

This story is my response to the March picture prompt from the Writers Unite website. Visit their site to check out the cool stories others came up with for March.

Alas, I’ve been struggling with my writing for the past couple of months, and now I am ridiculously late with my submission because I fell prey to my inner critics. Better late than never!

Enjoy.


Part One

“Backtracking After a Wrong Turn”

The rhythm of Sonia’s knitting needles dominated the room without stopping. She smiled as her husband yawned. 

“Gerard.”

“What?”

“You’re yawning.”

“So.”

“You’re yawning nonstop.”

Gerard looked up from his papers and studied his wife. 

“Aren’t you getting tired? How much longer are you going to be?”

“Anastazja’s baby is due any day. I want to finish tonight if I can.”

Gerard frowned. 

“Who’s Anastazja?”

“You remember the new couple that moved here last month from Warsaw.”

“No.”

“We met them at my uncle’s retirement party.”

“Did we?”

Sonia clucked, shaking her head. Gerard rolled his eyes and returned to editing. 

“Imagine her husband losing his job when they’re expecting their first. Luckily, Walter and Anna took them in. They’re not even related. Wonder what the connection is?”

“None of my business, nor yours. Keep your nose out of it.”

“Gerard, some people don’t have family they can count on. I’m just being neighborly.”

“Living across town doesn’t make them neighbors.”

Village, Gerard. Lipa isn’t big enough to be called a town.”

“Walter and Anna are a fifteen-minute drive away. This Anastazja is hardly our neighbor.”

“You know what I mean. They’re part of our community now. My family has….”

“Yes, I know. Your ancestors have lived in Lipa since its founding, weathering the tides of history from the Huns to the Nazis. Which makes you what, a baroness?”

“I’m just trying to be nice. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except when being nice leads to prying.”

“You never give me any credit.”

“Sonia, dear, you have a heart of gold. But you need to respect people’s privacy.”

“I do.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I try.”

“I know.”

“Curiosity’s a sign of intelligence, they say.”

“And an inquisitive cat usually kills the mouse it plays with.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Look, I think you need to channel this need to know everything. Maybe write for the newspaper? I’d help with editing. Then when you’re indulging your curiosity, people would expect their dirty laundry to be broadcast across the county.”

“You make me sound like a monster. Am I really that bad?”

Gerard snorted. 

“Afraid so.”

“Name one instance!”

“Conrad’s friend, Lukasz.”

“Poor thing never would have asked that girl out.”

“She snubbed him.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“And… Lukasz asked for your help?”

“Not in so many words.”

“I figured. Meaning, well, doesn’t give you license to interfere without asking.”

“One mistake.”

“I have a whole list if you want me to continue.”

“No. You’ve made your point.”

Sonia harrumphed, turning her back to her husband. 

“Don’t pout.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Not everything’s a secret, Gerard. Besides, I know when to be discreet.”

“Sonia, your own children watch what they say around you.”

“Conrad confides in me.”

“He’s only thirteen. Keep meddling, and he won’t, just like Sabina.”

“It’s normal for a mother and daughter to squabble. You’re a man you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough to know she hides things from you.”

“Well, someone has to keep tabs on her. You’re too liberal. A father should be protective.”

“Sabina’s twenty with a level head on her shoulders.”

“Well, when I was her age, I told my mother everything.”

“Did you have a choice?”

“A mother’s experience can help her daughter avoid the same mistakes.”

“It can also drive her away.”

Sonia put her knitting down and sighed. 

“That’s just it. Everything I do annoys Sabina. I’m too loud, too dramatic, too emotional. She’s like you, so serious and practical.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“You know what I mean, Gerard. We just don’t have anything in common. You make fun of it, but my mother and I have always been close. I wish Sabina and I could have something like that.”

“First off, Sabina loves you in her own private way.”

“You really think so? Sometimes I just don’t know.”

“Try not to be so obvious. Don’t interrogate her. There are subtler ways to learn what you want to know.”

“Such as?”

“Listen for a change.”

“Ha! Listen to what, her silence?”

“It’ll take time, but she’ll open up. And when she does, don’t always let on you’ve figured something out. Respecting someone’s privacy also means avoiding topics they don’t want to discuss.”

“I don’t have the patience for that. Besides, talking is the best medicine.”

“When you’re invited to. Sabina is an adult now.”

“But, I worry, Gerard. She’s dating, off at university, making friends with strangers.”

“It’s good to explore the world.”

“I just don’t understand why she’s so secretive.”

“Secretive? I wouldn’t say that. She’s reserved.”

“Same thing. Besides, I’m her mother. Why should she be reserved? I’m not some disapproving, old woman. I’m hip.”

“Only people who aren’t hip say they’re hip.” 

Sonia considered Gerard’s statement with a dazed expression. Looking up, she saw the smirk on her husband’s face and grinned.

“Point taken, again,” Sonia said.

“Look, you can’t expect to know everything. I don’t blather every thought that pops into my head.”

“Except when you’re tipsy,” Sonia said. “If I need to know something, I’ll ply you with vodka.”

“Is that so? I thought that was the cue; you wanted to get frisky.”

“That too.”

“So all I have to do is refuse to reveal my secrets?”

“Sorry, you’re plum out of secrets at the moment.”

“I’ll have to work on getting more,” Gerard said, standing up, “I’m going to bed alone, it seems.”

Sonia held her work up. 

“See, I was paying attention when you read your article to me. I’ve included a red ribbon to protect the baby from evil.”

“Doubt they’ll appreciate the significance. That’s an old, rural superstition.”

“I’ll know, and that’s what matters.”

“Or explain the meaning to them.”

“I’ll show them your latest article. What’s the title?”

“Outwitting Evil; A Polish Obsession With Charms and Omens.”

“I like it.”

“You’re just trying to make up for turning me down tonight.”

“No, I mean it. It reminded me of my great-aunt, who lived behind the house I lived in as a little girl. She read tea leaves.”

“There’s a subtle form of divination for you. The Church never could stomp that practice out.”

“Don’t you have a book on that?”

“Reading tea leaves?”

“Yes.”

“It’s in the study, on my desk. I was referencing it for this article. Why? You planning to tell fortunes?”

“Maybe.”

“Article’s done, just a line edit to do before submitting. Take it. It’s an interesting read.”

“Thanks, love. I’ll read Sabina’s future.”

“Could be a good way to sate your curiosity without badgering her.” Gerard laughed. “But don’t take it seriously.”

“Oooh, how exciting.”

“Sonia, it’s not real.”

“I know that. I’m teasing.” 

Gerard kissed Sonia.

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”


The Fern Flower Summons (5 of 5)

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This is the fifth installment of five. Below are links to previous episodes for anyone who missed them.


“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Five)

Stumbling to his feet, raising a hand to protect his eyes, Connor squinted into the unexpected glare. Off to his right, he could discern a frail old man’s silhouetted figure walking toward him within the brilliance.

“What? Who are you?”

“Someone you should trust.”

“I don’t understand.”

(connor time runs low)

“Wait! Where is that light coming from? Is that another fern flower?”

(connor a better life awaits take it)

“Ignore the voice! Yes, by God, it is another fern flower! Listen to me, Connor! You’re making a mistake!”

“What? I’m so confused! How do you know…?”

(connor the bloom fades)

“Using the flower is a mistake. What you’re asking for is wrong.”

“Asking for my fair share is wrong? You don’t understand. It’s humiliating how they treat me, my family, everyone living in orbit!”

“I know how you feel. But, this isn’t the right way.”

(connor)

“You don’t know how I feel! You don’t know me!”

“I do because I remember. The exhilaration of stepping into a new world intoxicated me. I gave in to the temptation, ignoring the warning I felt, the warning you feel now. My greed destroyed me, leaving only anguish, robbing me of the joy I sought.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m you. I’m what you become. I am your future.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s true. Trust me, Connor. Wanting for nothing, having everything life offers is a lovely dream, but….”

“You’re lying, trying to trick me out of what I deserve!”

“No, I’m trying to save you and prevent me from ever happening.”

“This is crazy! The flower won’t give me what I want? The voice lies?”

“The voice speaks truthfully, but it does not reveal the cost of wishing.”

“What cost?”

“Choosing this path will provide you with unimaginable wealth. But, you can never share it.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Surface-dwelling snobs hoard everything without consequence!”

“Connor, you will gain what you wish but lose everything you love. The fern flower’s power can never be used to help anyone else, even friends and family.”

“Hey! Disembodied voice! Is this true?”

(using the flower to help others will negate its power undoing your wish)

“Will my wish hurt my family?” 

(no your good fortune need not come at their expense)

“See! I can make things better for myself. I’ll explain everything. My family will be happy for me. They’ll understand. Finally, I’ll be able to help them if there’s a real emergency. I’ll give everything up when I need to.”

“Connor, altering reality is dangerous. It changed me. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but I began to think of myself as invincible, above the law. Justifying my actions became easier the further I slipped into the world I created for myself. But, it all came crashing down when Phoebe…when she….”

“What about Phoebe? Why are you crying? What happens to her?”

“I had the power to save her, but I hesitated. Addicted to the life I created, I feared losing the flower. I reasoned the odds of helping her were slim. I told myself I would sacrifice everything when all other options ran out, but I waited too long. She died unexpectedly from complications during an experimental procedure. My greed subjected her to needless suffering.”

“What? I’d never allow that to happen!”

“Connor, I’ve lived a privileged life, but I can’t say I enjoyed it. I’m ashamed to admit it, but my memories of enduring ridicule have always prevented me from doing the right thing. No matter how I tried to have it all, the flower has consistently denied me the true treasure of sharing my life with someone else.”

(infinite are the paths the flower offers with foresight you may choose differently)

“Yes, you’ve given me the warning I need.”

“No, don’t do this.”

“Why shouldn’t I enjoy the good life while I can? If I make wise decisions, nothing bad will happen.”

“Think of Phoebe.”

“I’ll write all this down! I promise to remember! I’ll be better than you!”

“Will you? Is it worth the risk? Will you accept wealth, power, and status now, knowing people you love might suffer and die because of it?”

“But, the voice says I can take a different path.” 

“I beg you! Walk away from this evil!”

(it is time to choose)

His future self’s warning frightened Connor. He rejected the possibility of ever becoming this wretch. But, the thorny seed of doubt had been planted. No matter how he tried to pluck it out, the grotesque image of a bleak, lonely future grew, threatening to overwhelm him. He shook, cried, and stamped his feet as he gazed between the ugly old man and the exquisite flower.

“Connor, all the universes have to offer isn’t worth a damn thing without someone to share it.”

(will you take the flower)

Connor hesitated, hoping to ascertain the true strength of his character. He desperately wanted what his other classmates possessed but feared the uncertainty. He knew he couldn’t rule out the danger of making the same mistakes. 

“Connor, reflect on the happiness you have now being amongst friends and family. Contentment comes in many forms.”

He recognized the truth in the old man’s words, realizing he only yearned to be accepted. Suddenly, he understood if Bright Star Academy couldn’t give him that, somewhere else could. Fate had dealt him a difficult hand, but he suspected changing reality should happen, moment by moment, throughout one’s life.

“I’m afraid I must decline. Some things are just too good to be true.”

0500 hours, June 21, 2433

Connor found himself abruptly standing in the meadow overlooking the school campsite. His teachers and classmates gathered quietly about the fading fire. He entered the circle and sat down next to a fellow student whose name he couldn’t remember.  

“Where’ve you been, Connor?”

“Got lost. Thought I found something. Turned out to be nothing.”

“Well, you missed the excitement. Freddy fell into the river, trying to fish a wreath out. He almost drowned! Ironic, he’s so athletic but apparently can’t swim.”

“Must’ve been quite the sight.”

It occurred to Connor his classmate spoke to him normally without any hint of derision. 

“Wait…why… why are you talking to me?”

“Ouch! But suppose I deserve that. Hey, I know I shouldn’t let those jerks intimidate me. And I’m sorry, Freddy and Brad give you such a hard time.”

“It has made things kind of rough.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy. Anyway, I’m tired of letting them decide who’s cool and who’s not. Personally, I could care less if you live in orbit.”

“Now, I need to apologize. I’ve no idea what your name is. In my defense though, I don’t talk to anyone.”

“Nathan.”

“Nice to meet you, Nathan.”

Professor Dalton interrupted the quiet of predawn as he jumped up and down excitedly. 

“Amazing, Dabrowski! That last spike in multidimensional radiation topped everything! I hope it didn’t damage my scanner. It’s completely silent now. I’m not even picking up the background levels we saw yesterday afternoon. Whatever it was, it’s gone now. But, I must say this has been a worthwhile experiment. Plenty of data to publish!”

“Ah, sorry to hear that, Dalton. Perhaps, the approaching dawn drives the denizens of Para away. Look, the sun’s beginning to rise.”

Connor smiled eagerly, facing east to witness his first sunrise. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had passed some test. He didn’t expect his difficulties to vanish, but he felt hope again. 

1200 hours, June 21, 2507

Jeeves and Alfred waited, watching the sun climb higher and higher.

“It’s 12:00. Sir, has not returned. What does this mean?”

“Sir has found what he sought.”

“Now, what?”

“Per his instructions, seek out our new master in New Seattle.” 


This tale was inspired by a submissions call from Shoreline of Infinity Magazine for their upcoming September 2022 issue themed around science fiction fairytales. Hope you check it out. I’m eager to read what made it in!

The Fern Flower Summons (4 of 5)

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This is the fourth installment of five. Below are links to previous episodes for anyone who missed them.


“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Four)

Convinced the source of the distant glow was multidimensional, Connor rushed off, determined to confide in Professor Dabrowski. Having misjudged the distance and his ability to navigate the darkness, he stopped to recover his bearings. His heart sunk, realizing the light had vanished. As Connor searched for it, the dazzling radiance rematerialized in the field before him. Staring in disbelief, he couldn’t shake the feeling it beckoned to him. Mesmerized, he stepped tentatively forward. 

(come closer)

Startled, Connor halted. Rooted in place, he trembled, doubting his sanity. 

(don’t stop now)

“Who’s there?”

(follow the light all will be revealed)

An unbearable urge to enter the woods welled inside Connor. But, he found the light’s retreat into the dense undergrowth disconcerting. His courage failed at the forest’s edge.

“What do you want?”

(to help you connor)

“How do you know my name?”

(your mind is easy to read)

“Why couldn’t anyone else see the light?”

(you are the one chosen)

“Why?”

(you endure great unhappiness)

“Why should that matter?”

(is it wrong to remedy harm inflicted)

“No, but I don’t understand. Who are you? Why do you move deeper into the woods?”

(the gift resides there within)

“What gift?”

(indulge your curiosity bravely follow the light)

“Why should I trust you?”

(risk abides in every action and refusal to act)

“What will I find?”

(what you already suspect)

“The fern flower?”

(yes)

Connor wrestled with conflicting emotions. Endless possibilities ran through his mind. Although the offer tempted him, experience had taught Connor nothing in life was truly free. He supposed interacting with another dimension could have unforeseen consequences. Faltering, he tried to decide whether to play it safe and return to the bonfire or accept the risk, follow the light and take his fair share of wealth and privilege. 

“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming.”

Connor tramped forward, pushing through the brush until he stepped into a hollow filled with radiant light emanating from a floating orb of energy. A large oak stood in the middle, its branches thickly overhanging to create a secluded grotto. Nestled between the tree’s gnarled roots, a beautiful woodland fern grew. Fine motes of light drifted down from underneath its fronds, coating the ground with glittering dust. A golden stem extended up in its center, bearing a magnificent flower. 

Connor watched the luminous sphere descend and merge with the blossom to cast an array of iridescent light through its translucent petals. Connor felt an intense heat radiating from the bloom. 

(rarely do mortal eyes gaze upon the ferns fiery blossom)

“I… I am honored.”

(do you know the magic it holds)

“Professor Dabrowski says it has the power to grant wishes.”

(correct)

“If I wish for something, will it happen right away?”

(the magic works subtly until time brings your desire to fruition)

“How’s this possible? Magic isn’t real in this world.”

(what you call magic is simply energy capable of shifting reality bringing desired aspects from countless parallel universes into this one)

“I want to be like my classmates. I want to live on the surface. I want to be respected and admired. I want the life they have!”

(ask for limitless wealth the rest will follow)

Connor crept closer to the fern. Variegated light illuminated his body as he fell to his knees. Tentatively, he extended a hand to touch the flower.

“Do I pick the blossom?”

(fear not the bloom is imperishable utter a wish pluck it forever yours to keep)

The crack of snapping wood and crunching leaves startled Connor out of his reverie. He vainly searched the surrounding darkness, his eyes struggling to adjust. He suddenly suspected someone had followed him. The thought angered him.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

(a woodland creature ignore it make your wish)

Connor recalled his mother’s fear of wildlife.

“Animal? It sounds huge.”

(the hour grows late)

Detecting a trace of irritation in the voice’s tone, Conner again reconsidered accepting help from the multidimensional entity. But, his qualms fled as he turned back to behold the flower’s ethereal beauty. An intense desire for wealth and status reconquered him.

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

(hurry)

Energy pulsed up his hand as he grasped the flower, numbing his entire arm. The stem resisted his pull. 

(state your desire to reap the bloom)

“I want….”

A dazzling flash accompanied by the crackle of arching electricity interrupted Connor’s wish.

“Wait! Stop! Say nothing! There’s something you need to know!”


This tale was inspired by a submissions call from Shoreline of Infinity Magazine for their upcoming September 2022 issue themed around science fiction fairytales. Hope you check it out. I’m eager to read what made it in!

The Fern Flower Summons (3 of 5)

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This is the third installment of five. Below are links to previous episodes for anyone who missed them.


“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Three)

“Shall we get started, Dabrowski? I have conducted baseline scans for dimensional radiation, but I’m depending on you to guide us through these archaic rituals.”

The literature professor set his suitcases down near the bonfire, opening one with a flourish. 

“Now, everyone, gather around. I’ve had costumes specially fabricated for this experiment. I think you’ll find them quite amusing.”

Connor’s classmates bunched forward, shoving him aside. 

“Don’t touch anything, Orbit!” someone whispered.

“Yeah, careful! I hear Orbitals are allergic to everything down here. You could go into anaphylactic shock.”

“It’s like Orbitals aren’t even human.”

“Probably why resettlement restrictions exist. It’s for their own good.”

“Nah, if we let everyone back, it’ll ruin the climate again.”

Mortified, Connor fled to another part of the circle.

“Tonight’s the eve of the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. Humanity has long revered the solstice, believing it a time when a portal to the fey realms opens.”

“Fey realms? Professor, is that another name for Para?”

“Yes, I suspect so. Now, I’ve brought along plenty of traditional Slavic costumes for anyone wishing to dress the part. The academy has graciously provided funding for replicas made with transforma-cloth. You’ll find everything adjusts to fit.”

“Professor, they’re so garish!”

“Ah, but that was the style.”

The students began picking through the pile of multicolored garments as Professor Dabrowski opened the other suitcase to reveal a jumble of clippings. 

“Now, we have violet, rosemary, vervain, thyme, hyssop, mugwort, lavender, and St. John’s Wort.”

“What are we doing with flowers, Professor?”

“Making wreaths. These plants were believed to be magical, especially on Midsummer Night’s Eve.”

“How so? 

“Providing protection from wayward spirits or conversely attracting good luck. Some even claimed such herbs could help find true love.”

“Scandalous, Professor!”

“What kind of field trip is this?”

“Don’t be gross!”

“I think it’s romantic!”

“Ladies, gentlemen, please control yourselves. Remember, this is a school function.”

“Professor, how’re a bunch of flowers going to find true love?!”

“Glad you asked! Simply weave them into a wreath and toss it into the river. If your suitor retrieves it without getting wet, rest assured knowing their love is true!”

“Why can’t we get wet?”

“Because of the rusalka.”

“The what?”

“Spirits lurking beneath the waters eager to lure helpless young men and women to their doom! Remember, the veil between worlds is at its weakest tonight!”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“It’s not real.”

“Para is real.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah, this is just a superstition.”

“Ah, but we’re here to test that conviction. Are these truly just fairytales? Other dimensions and parallel universes hid around every corner. Science has proven this. Contact with the inhabitants of Para has cast everything into doubt.”

“You’re scaring me, Professor.”

“Rest assured, you’ll be completely safe provided you remain dry. In the event you fall into the water, our bonfire will ward you from harm. Its flames summon kindly faeries keen to bestow aid and good fortune.”

“Really? What kind of aid, Professor?”

“Success during the coming year or good health.”

“How about passing all my exams?”

“A worthy aspiration for all my students!” 

“Professor, what’s special about the fire?”

“It’s the bravery displayed about the bonfire that’s important.”

“Professor?”

“Our ancestors leapt the flames hoping to prove themselves worthy of otherworldly gifts, favors, and secret knowledge.”

“Like hidden treasure?”

“Most sought help procuring the fern flower, a rare blossom found only on Midsummer’s Eve.”

“And if you find it?”

“Discovery grants a wish.”

“We should try to find it!”

“Yeah, where do we look, Professor?”

“I should warn you. The flower is guarded. Legend says only true desperation reveals its location.”

Connor wondered why any of his classmates would ever need to find such a flower. Wishes were meaningless when you already had everything, he thought. 

“Remember, everyone, make time to acquaint yourself with the dim-scanner. I’ve collected rather unusual readings with Professor Dabrowski’s arrival and subsequent lecture. Perhaps there is something to all this nonsense. Sorry, Dabrowski, no offense intended.”

“None taken, Dalton. You are, undeniably, a consummate man of science. Leave the imagining to me!”

With instructions given, the students dispersed. Some plopped near the fire with armfuls of cuttings for making wreaths, while others danced about waiting to jump the bonfire. Connor sat on the outskirts quietly surveying the antics. He found himself distracted by the countless fireflies flickering about in the surrounding darkness.

“Finished my wreath. Protect me as I toss it into the river, Brad?”

“Absolutely, Chelsea!”

Connor watched the couple stumble off, giggling. As usual, everyone ignored him, but tonight he didn’t care. Leaning back on his elbows, he stretched his legs and gazed across the meadow. Above, the lights from Earth’s ring of artificial structures twinkled brightly. While trying to locate New Seattle, his eye was suddenly drawn to a glimmering glow near the forest’s edge. It appeared to him to be another fire. Startled, Connor jumped up to get a better view.

“Do you see that?”

Several heads turned toward Connor.

“Are you talking to us?”

“Ah…yes. Do you see that light?”

“They’re called fireflies, Orbit.”

“No, in the woods. See the light changing color?”

“I don’t see anything. You feeling ok?”

 Out of character, Connor grabbed hold of someone walking by. 

“Tell me you can see that!” 

His classmate angrily brushed Connor’s hand away. 

“Let go of me, Orbit! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh…sorry.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

“He’s hallucinating or something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t even be here.”

Embarrassed, feeling trapped, Connor’s eyes darted about frantically. Spying Professor Dalton, he rushed over to the man. 

“Professor! Professor! Professor Dalton!”

“Connor? Whatever is the matter?” 

Connor glanced quickly again to the forest seeing the light still blazed conspicuously. His stomach clenched, realizing he alone could see it. He paused to recollect himself.

“Sorry, Professor. Nothing’s wrong. Just a bit excited to be here.”

“I should say so.”

“Professor, I’m curious. Has the scanner picked up any indication of an actual dimensional rift developing nearby?”

“Why yes, Connor. I owe Dabrowski an apology. The readings are off the charts.”

“Any idea where?”

Surprised to hear such eagerness in his student’s voice, Professor Dalton quickly scrutinized Connor. 

“Well, multidimensional radiation is high everywhere, but it increases significantly on this side of the bonfire.”

“Is the scanner difficult to use?”

“No, not at all. Give it a go, Connor. It’s straightforward enough once calibrated, which I accomplished painstakingly earlier. Simply point and press this button to capture a reading.”

“Have you scanned closer to the forest?”

“What? Well, no. I’ve focused my attention around Dabrowski’s activities.”

“Professor, may I sample levels further away from the bonfire?”

“A budding scientist, eh Connor? By all means, but let’s not stray far. Lady Science demands controlled methodical inquiry. Remember, our objective is to uncover any correlation between concentrations of dimensional radiation and reenacting superstitious practices.”

Walking several paces towards the woods, Connor took a measurement.

“Interesting, Connor! This warrants further investigation. Unquestionably, this uptick in energy suggests the presence of a nearby weakening of the division between our universe and the next.”

“Perhaps, the bonfire really does provide some kind of protection.” 

“Interesting. Dabrowski will be delighted to hear this.”

“Where is Professor Dabrowski, sir?”

“He’s down by the river. The notion of treacherous spirits skulking about is absurd, but youthful shenanigans are not.”

“I’ll tell him what we found. Thank you, Professor!”


This tale was inspired by a submissions call from Shoreline of Infinity Magazine for their upcoming September 2022 issue themed around science fiction fairytales. Hope you check it out. I’m eager to read what made it in!

The Fern Flower Summons (2 of 5)

Photo by Mike Demou on Pexels.com

This is the second installment of five. Here is the link for part one for anyone who missed it.


The Fern Flower Summons”(Part Two)

1800 hours, June 19, 2433 

“Connor! You’re home!”

Connor’s little sister tackled him as he entered their family’s modest living quarters. 

“Hey, Phoebe.”

“Please help me with my presentation! Mom’s useless.” 

“Sure, what’s it about?”

“How interacting with parallel universes will change society.”

“Really?”

“Hey! I’m not little anymore. I’m learning important stuff.”

“Relax, I know. It’s just we also talked about Para in literature class today.”

Phoebe beamed triumphantly. 

“I’m catching up to you! We’re studying the same things!”

“Guess you should advance your application to Bright Star Academy now. Well, only if you can stomach spending time with condescending jerks.”

Phoebe frowned.

“Is anyone nice there?”

“The teachers can be.”

“Oh, Connor.”

Her genuine concern touched him.

“Don’t worry. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I’ve got an idea for my presentation!”

“What?”

“Contact with Para means we can travel to all sorts of parallel worlds. Nobody has to live in space anymore!”

“Always the optimist. Hope you’re right.”

“If you set your mind to it, you can do anything.”

“Can you convince Mom and Dad to give me money for transport to the surface?”

“The surface?! Wow! Why?”

“School outing.”

“Where? To do what?”

“Professor Dabrowski thinks myths and folklore about fairies are based on actual historical encounters with dimensional rifts into Para. He wants to use the school’s dim-scanner to prove his theory.”

“I wish I could go! You’re so lucky!”

“Not if I can’t get money for the fare.”

“I’ve saved some money from babysitting. You can have it if you pay me back.”

“Let’s see what Mom and Dad say first. Hopefully, I can use the money I’ve saved working during breaks. Supposed to be for university, but this is a school trip. They might say yes.”

Connor’s mom looked apprehensive. Rarely on the surface, being outside frightened her. 

“I don’t know, Connor. Is this trip safe? You’ll be in the wilderness? I’ve read about animal attacks.”

“I’ll be with a bunch of people.”

“Still makes me nervous. School’s providing transport?”

“No. We have to arrange our own ride.”

“What about the school’s private transport your scholarship provides?”

“I asked. It’s only for travel to and from campus.”

“Can’t someone offer you passage?”

“Everyone lives on the surface, Mom. They’ll already be there. No one’s going to make a special trip up for me.”

His father balked at the cost.

“Ship fare’s a month’s worth of wages.”

“I have the money.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, Connor! That money is for university.”

“Mom, please! I can work extra shifts.”

“Your mother’s right. That money is for school, not entertainment.”

Frustrated, Connor gave up.

“Mom, you always say breaking into surface society requires good connections.”

“Phoebe, your point?”

“Everyone at Connor’s school treats him differently. This is a chance for him to fit in.”

“I’m sure he has friends. Don’t you, Connor?”

Connor shrugged, staring at his feet. 

“And Dad, you’re always preaching that we should stand up for ourselves and force others to acknowledge us. You say things will never change if Orbitals keep floating around up here, manufacturing everything for the elites below.”

Their father smiled proudly at Phoebe, nodding his head.

“This idea of crashing a surface-dweller’s party is beginning to appeal to me.”

“Honey? I don’t want Connor getting political.”

“No, this is perfect. He can wear my union protest gear.”

 “Dad, that’s not going to help Connor fit in.”

“Well, he could wear a slogan. How about Celebrate Climate Restoration! Bring Everyone Home!

“Dad, stop!”

“I’m serious. I could ask the action committee to pay for the trip. Think of the publicity!”

Connor hated the idea. But desperation got the better of him.

“I’ll do it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Honey, no. This isn’t fair to Connor. I’ve money tucked away for emergencies.”

“But, Babe?”

“I won’t have him used as a political pawn. Connor, you can go. But, I expect extra help around here while your father and I work overtime.”

Phoebe jumped gleefully as Connor hugged his mother.

1300 hours, June 20, 2433

After waiting in line for close to an hour, Connor managed to find a seat on the commercial Earth-bound shuttle. A throng of people swarmed about the cabin, filling the space with noise, odors, and clutter. 

“Connor. Mind if I sit with you?”

Professor Dabrowski struggled to stow several cumbersome bags before dropping into his seat. 

“Professor? What are you doing here? Why all the luggage?”

“Traveling to our campsite.”

“But, I thought….”

 “And… you’ll have to wait to see what I’ve packed for our expedition.”

“What are you doing in New Seattle?”

“Just because I teach at a prestigious school on Earth doesn’t necessarily mean I live on Earth.”

“You live in New Seattle?”

“Used to. Visiting with family for a couple rotations. My wife and I live on Manchester Station.” 

“I’ve never seen you on the school transport.”

“I stay down in staff quarters on campus when school is in session. But, when I do travel, I prefer commercial ships. They’re more interesting than stuffy, private shuttles.”

“I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Connor. Humanity is enriched by diversity. In some respects, you’re better off than other Bright Star Academy students.”

“Sorry, Professor? How could I possibly…?”

“No, I’m sorry, Connor. I forget how limiting it is to grow up in orbit. I, too, dreamed of living on Earth. I remember feeling cheated by my circumstances.”

Professor Dabrowski’s admission piqued Connor’s curiosity.

“How did you do it?”

“What? Oh, you mean, how did I avoid an unfulfilling, low-wage job in an orbital manufacturing plant?”

“Yes.”

Professor Dabrowski took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Just like you, I studied. I aced my exams and earned a scholarship to a school on the surface.”

“Why don’t you and your wife live on Earth?”

“Connor, there’s more to it than making enough money. The elites living below have a plethora of unspoken rules. Life there is restrictive, stifling. I prefer to keep a wider perspective.”

“What restrictions? Surface-dwellers have everything one could want!”

“And they don’t appreciate it. They’re bored, trapped in a scripted world of endless leisure.”

“Sounds great to me.”

“You’re lucky to be able to think outside of the box. You can take risks because you have nothing to lose.”

Connor flinched.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be so brusque.”

“No, you’re right. Thanks to the government, my family has just what’s necessary, but nothing else. Opportunities to get ahead are scarce. Earning my scholarship to Bright Star Academy was a dream come true.”

“And what do you intend to do with this opportunity?”

“Become filthy rich, move permanently to the planet and never come back.”

“You’ll leave your family, friends, and countless others like you behind?”

“I’ll never abandon my family.”

“Well, a word of caution, the privileged like to talk about equality and rewarding hard work, but there’s very little they want to change or share when it comes to action.”

“But, you’ve been able to work and live on the surface.”

“Yes, because I’m an amusing oddity. Think of me as Bright Star Academy’s mascot for charitable contributions.”

His conversation with Professor Dabrowski unsettled Connor. Excusing himself, he lingered in the crowded dining compartment, only returning to his seat just before their destination. 

“Ah, Connor. I feared my pessimism scared you away.”

“No, not at all. Just grabbing snacks.” Connor lied.

“I remember those days. My father contemplated getting a second job to buy food!”

Connor felt guilty hiding. He really did like Professor Dabrowski. Discovering their common background made him realize he had unexpectedly found someone at school who understood how he felt.

An announcement sounded, indicating the shuttle had reached Krakow. Connor prepared to disembark, eager to finally visit another part of Earth. After navigating through security, they found themselves standing in a waiting area jam-packed with boisterous reunions and the shrill calls of vendors hawking souvenirs. Extensive lines queuing for refreshments, lavatories, and taxis branched about, creating a chaotic maze of people. 

“There’s our ride. Come on.”

Connor briefly caught a glimpse of a man leaning against a hovercraft, holding a sign for Bright Star Academy.

“Glad you’re leading, Professor. I’d be overwhelmed on my own!”

During the ride, Professor Dabrowski and the driver chatted amicably. At the same time, Connor gawked at the rolling pastoral landscape and immense country estates. Witnessing firsthand the stark contrast between life in orbit and that on the surface angered him. He knew he’d do anything to live here. 

“Oh, excellent! Professor Dalton has already built a lovely bonfire.”

Connor’s heart leapt into his throat, seeing his classmates frolicking about the encampment. He felt the weight of his awkwardness return. Even more than at school, he felt like an intruder here.

“Dabrowski! How good of you to join us! I was beginning to worry. Trouble with public transport?”

“Never fear, Dalton. I am here. All is well. Traveling with the masses may be slow, but I find it exhilarating!”


This tale was inspired by a submissions call from Shoreline of Infinity Magazine for their upcoming September 2022 issue themed around science fiction fairytales. Hope you check it out. I’m eager to read what made it in!

Celebrating Rejection!

While perusing the news recently, I came across a top-ten list of glitzy jobs, which can, in reality, be quite horrible. Top of the list was publishing/writing.

Yep!

Beyond entertaining us, I don’t think the reporter hoped to dissuade anyone from pursuing a demanding, onerous career. But, the cautionary article reminds us there’s a reason we refer to one’s profession as work. 

I love writing and equally hate it. But, I cannot ignore the call to create.

Submitting stories to publishers for consideration is a rite of passage for aspiring authors. Experiencing rejection is inevitable. Knowing this helps, but it still stings. 

After thinking it over, I decided to post the first story I felt brave enough to submit for publication. It also holds the distinction of being the first rejection! It will forever remind me of dipping my toe into the maelstrom of professional writing for the first time. Ha! Perhaps I sound dramatic, but I’d ask you to forgive me for indulging a freshly bruised ego! 

This past Monday marked the beginning of August and the ancient Gaelic holiday, Lughnasadh. It’s midsummer, and the harvest times have arrived. I often revisit Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream around now and consequently find myself musing about faeries. It seems to be an apropos time to share my sci-fi/fantasy mash-up tale about a twenty-fifth-century young man’s strange encounter with the fey on the summer solstice.

The original short story is a bit long to post all at once on my blog. I will dole it out over a series of shorter episodes. 

Enjoy! 



The Fern Flower Summons”(Part One)

1900 hours, June 20, 2507

The orbital cities encircling Earth dominated the twilight sky like a bejeweled girdle of brilliant light, occulting even the brightest stars. Beneath them, an old man gazed blissfully across a meadow, admiring the fireflies.

“More this year. A good omen.”

 Peering beyond to the forest, he frowned.

“Jeeves, Alfred, I’ll continue on alone.”

The servant droids waited with the luxury hovercraft. 

“What’s this about?”

“Superstition.”

“Regarding?”

“Faeries and flowers.”

“Seriously?”

“Sir has solemnly observed solstice for eleven years now.”

“What does Sir seek in the forest?”

“I know not, but he always returns disappointed.”

0600 hours, June 19, 2433

Earning the opportunity to attend an elite academy on Earth had been difficult. But Connor had succeeded. Knowing most people struggled to afford even a brief once-in-a-lifetime vacation to the planet underscored his good fortune. But, before long, Connor realized obtaining a scholarship to Bright Star Academy didn’t equate to earning social parity with his surface-dwelling classmates. After weeks of failing to fit in, ignored by most and taunted by some, he became increasingly self-conscious about being the only Orbital at school. 

Catching the academy’s private shuttle down to campus in Buenos Aires required waking a couple hours early, but Connor didn’t mind. He thought that being able to ride aboard the luxury transport made up for it.

“Good Morning. How’s New Seattle’s future poet laureate?”

“Morning, John. Tired and hungry.”

On the first day, Connor thought the shuttle pilot was teasing him but soon realized the man spoke with a sense of comradery. John explained Orbitals had to stick together when navigating amongst the surface folk. 

“Hop in. Tonya’s serving up coffee and the usual surface-style breakfast.”

Connor noted only one other person in the cabin, an unfamiliar professor, sipping coffee and reviewing his papers. He settled into a plush, spacious seat next to a large window. Connor loved observing the stark, inky contrasts of space gradually morph into the hazy, soft blue of the planet’s atmosphere. While selecting something from the menu, he heard a warning chime. 

“Unexpected magnetic field disturbance. Possible solar wind uptick. Departure delayed approximately twenty minutes.”

“Damn!” Connor muttered.

He hated being late; it only accentuated that he lived in orbit. Two of his classmates relentlessly bullied him because of it. Connor fretted, anxiously watching the minutes pass until the shuttle gained permission to leave. 

“Finally! I just might make it in time.”

As the shuttle neared Earth, Connor saw the Andes looming far off in the west. Below, green, gold, and brown patches of farmland spread across the extensive Pampas. Buenos Aires lay further off with the Rio de la Plate estuary glittering behind it. Connor longed to explore these places, but his travel documents only allowed him to attend school. 

He grew up with stories about a dark past when people fled a toxic, used-up planet for an artificial sanctuary in space. Time and technology promised a chance to return one day, but most were still waiting. His father, like many, argued against continuing the draconian resettlement restrictions. Connor wasn’t interested in politics, but the flights back and forth to school had opened his eyes to the vast disparity between life on the planet and that above. 

After landing on the school grounds, Connor sprinted to class, eager to get there on time. Just outside the door, he paused to catch his breath. Hearing disorderly chatter, he peeked inside, finding no sign of Professor Dabrowski. Confused, he checked the time only to discover how late he was. Quietly entering, Connor tried unsuccessfully to avoid attention while taking his seat. 

“Incoming! Falling from orbit fast!”

“Meteor?!”

 “Nope, space junk.”

Snickering percolated the unsupervised classroom. 

“Hey, Orbit. Trouble landing?”

Connor sunk further into his chair, reddening. 

“Security quarantine you again?”

“Probably took one look at your face and sent you to decontamination.”

Connor ignored the taunts knowing any reaction only prolonged the harassment. Relief washed over him seeing a disheveled man jog into the room. 

“Class, sorry I’m late!”

“Good morning, Professor Dabrowski.”

The salutation stopped the old man short. Warily scrutinizing the room, he smiled.

“Yes, it is a lovely morning. I confess I had my doubts.”

Shuddering dramatically, he scowled.

“Administrative meetings. Wretched things.”

Post-apocalyptic literature heartened Connor, giving him a reason to continue attending Bright Star Academy. While his privileged classmates sneered at Professor Dabrowski’s antiquated mien, Connor basked in it. The old man’s appearance harkened hundreds of years back to the 21st century. Eschewing modern fabrics, the teacher’s clothes consisted of scratchy, natural fibers incapable of acclimating to the environment. The man actually endured perspiration. 

“Before beginning, I’m delighted to inform you of a last-minute opportunity to earn extra credit this weekend!”

The class groaned. 

“Now, none of that. I expect you’ll feel differently learning what Professor Dalton introduced to the faculty today.”

“What?”

“A dimensional scanner.”

Pandemonium erupted.   

“No way!”

“How’d the academy pull that off?”

“Aren’t dim-scanners classified?”

Professor Dabrowski raised a hand for silence.

“Fortunately, our headmaster worked intimately with the scientists involved in humanity’s first contact with Para, our interdimensional neighbor.”

“Professor, didn’t Dean Choi lead the Orbital Collider Project before coming to Bright Star?”

“Yes.”

“Professor, what’s the Orbital Collider Project?”

Disbelief punctuated the air. 

“What? Am I the only one in the dark?”

“Probably not; I applaud your bravery in admitting it. Allow me to illuminate. The Orbital Collider is where astrophysicists first created a stable micro-singularity, making it possible to interact with parallel universes.”

“Oh yeah! Like Para! I knew that.”

“Yes. Well, done. Now, due to these connections, Dean Choi’s been invited to join the I3 Taskforce.”

Someone raised a hand. 

“Yes, sorry. The Interdimensional, Interspatial, Intertemporal Agency.”

“Can I use the lavatory?”

Rolling his eyes, Professor Dabrowski nodded.

“Professor, how does this relate to the dim-scanner?”

“The headmaster’s tasked the faculty with finding ways to incorporate this new technology into the curriculum. Professor Dalton and I volunteered to pilot using the dimensional scanner with students.”

“How?”

“Well, upon hearing communication between worlds is possible, myths and fairytales immediately came to mind.”

“Those are children’s stories, Professor.”

“I’m convinced there may be a kernel of truth to them. Let’s consider. Is it possible stories of fairy circles, hidden kingdoms, and magic portals were simply primitive attempts to make sense of frightening encounters with interdimensional beings?” 

“The dim-scanner, Professor?”

“Oh, yes! We’ve organized an excursion to my ancestral homeland of Poland, during which we shall endeavor to reenact the ancient rituals of the summer solstice. Professor Dalton will assist students in deploying the scanner to capture fluctuations in dimensional radiation throughout our visit. I, for one, am quite eager to learn if any of the old customs will have any measurable impact.”

Connor’s pulse quickened, wondering where he’d find the money to go on the trip. He knew he’d have to find his own way to the surface. Unlike his peers, his family didn’t own a transport.


This tale was inspired by a submissions call from Shoreline of Infinity Magazine for their upcoming September 2022 issue themed around science fiction fairytales. Hope you check it out. I’m eager to read what made it in!

Flash Fiction: Eye of the Beholder

“Nothing ventured. nothing gained.”

Brion stood tall, proudly smirking. 

“Admit it. You doubted.”

Frowning, Marigold gazed into the garden.

“No, said it was dangerous.”

Most laughed until realizing Brion actually intended to try. The aldermen cautioned the pacifist farmer. 

“You’ll be accountable for any unpleasantry or mayhem.”

Anxious villagers considered Marigold’s husband’s goal foolhardy. Accusations of treason spread. The constable visited every day. 

Watching Uqukh work peacefully, Brion indulged his urge to boast.

“I know I’ve upset some, but it seemed right, offering the creature a chance to thrive.”

Marigold didn’t have the opportunity to reply. 

“Marigold! Marigold!”

The goblin rushed over, carrying a basket of vegetables.

“Lots of tasty roots, seeds, and pods. You take. Make a tasty supper?”

The sincere offering touched her. 

“Thank you, Uqukh. Yes, these will be delicious.”

Brion clapped the goblin on the shoulder. 

“Uqukh. It’s getting late. Time to bring the cattle in. Go give Dillon a hand. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Nodding enthusiastically, the goblin scampered off whistling. 

“Sorry, should’ve had more faith in you, my love. Fear prevented me from seeing the good you saw in him. You’ve saved his life.”

“All it took was patience, kindness, and love.”


Word Count: 200

In response to word prompt: thrive

Courtesy of Your Daily Word Prompt for March 14, 2022.

I encourage anyone looking for a fun, easy to interact with website for daily creative inspiration!

“The Forging of Isaz” (Part 6 of 7)

A Short Story Set in a Mythical Nordic Medieval World.

Photo by sam Hancock on Pexels.com

Glossary of Terms and Characters

  • Völvur: a shamanic order of women capable of foresight and communing with the otherworld.
  • Jötunn: god-like elemental forces of nature from the mountains, forests and wilds of the tundra. (Giants.) 
  • Gobban: a Norseman, a smith and master craftsman of weapons.
  • Kalda: servant of Skadi, an ice sprite. 
  • Skadi: winter goddess of jötunnic origins.
  • Seiomenn: men who practice conjuring magics. 
  • Greta: the queen’s seeress.
  • Alfar: fairies, elves.
  • Surtr: Norse god of fire.
  • Muspellheim: elemental realm of fire.
  • Steinvegg: a stonewall.
  • Holde seg:  a command to hold, stay, or remain still.

Part 6 “Runes”

Holding the elegant blade aloft engendered within Gobban a hope he hadn’t felt for weeks. It felt good allowing himself to celebrate. But, the moment passed quickly. The smith became grave again, worry and concern shrouding the radiance on his face.

“Now, we come to the real test, Kalda.”

The ice sprite tensed, perceiving a solemn air of importance hovering between them. 

“If we fail, nothing short of divine intervention will stop the beast from consuming the entire kingdom with his infernal fire,” he said. 

Kalda reflected. 

“I fear the assistance you seek from the otherworld is already standing before you. I pray I am equal to the task.”

Gobban smiled, nodding. 

“I believe you are.”

“Tell me what needs to be done.”

“We must create the hottest possible fire to harden the sword. The winds you conjure should be sufficient.”

“What will prevent the steel from melting?”

“The magic inherent in this forge’s construction will imbue the metal with a resistance matching the fire’s intensity.”

“Then truly all that’s required to defeat our foe is to build a fire greater than its own.”

“Yes.”

Kalda studied Gobban’s face trying to identify what he didn’t say. 

“You are troubled by something else.”

Gobban snorted, shaking his head. 

“You see right through me.”

“It isn’t difficult to read your aura.”

Her revelation surprised the smith. He stared disbelievingly at Kalda. 

“My aura? You speak as a völvur. What signs do you see circling about me?”

The sapphire light behind the ice sprite’s eyes intensified. 

“You are afraid. Our task is more dangerous than you say.”

Gobban sighed. 

“I can’t be certain the forge will contain the fires even with my smithing magic. This is uncharted territory.”

“Remember, you don’t carry this burden alone, Gobban. You will have my magic supporting you. Together, we shan’t allow the fires to get out of control.”

“Your confidence is reassuring, but quenching the blade will present the most danger. The extreme shift in temperature is always violent.”

Kalda smiled, her magical barrier expanding. She reached out, touching the nearby barrel of water instantly freezing it. Gobban grimaced as the expanding ice cracked the wood. 

“Hey! There’s a hole in that now.” he laughed. 

“I wanted to remind you of what I am capable of.”

Gobban rolled his eyes.  

“I assure you I hadn’t forgotten.”

“Let us begin then?” Kalda asked. 

“Sooner we start, the sooner we’ll know if we’re successful.”

Gobban threw more fuel on the fire, carefully raking the coals to create a hollow. Laying the sword in the furnace, he raised his mighty voice to sing and chant while Kalda fed the flames with a steady current of frigid air.

Feast and Fed! Flare up! Burn bright! 

Surtr, the swarthy one, harken to my plea! 

Hammer, anvil, tongs, and bellows! 

Coal, wood, peat, and oil! 

Surtr, creation comes through you!

Fire, I seek.

Fire, I start.

Fire, I tend.

Fire, I shelter.

Forge of Muspellheim, my need is great!

The fire grew so intense it pained Gobban to stand close by. The hue of the flames shifted from blue to white. The radiance silhouetted Gobban as he paced, gesturing with his hands to evoke a shield of warding magic around the forge.

“The fire needs more air!” 

Kalda responded, increasing the airflow from outside.

“Good!” he shouted. 

Containing the heat and fire was becoming arduous. Gobban rushed to and fro, reinforcing the magical barriers. His voice grew hoarse, no longer singing, he shouted his incantations over the roar of the storm Kalda had brought into the room. 

Steinvegg strong have I built! Holde seg!”

Gobban gasped, exhausted from his efforts. As the flames intensified, they increasingly threatened to escape. The rising heat required him to redouble his focus on providing a scaffolding of magic about the sword, but continuing to confine the firestorm demanded too much of his attention. Ensuring the sword endured meant Gobban had to risk allowing the fire to damage the smithy.

Holde seg! Be content within the steinvegg!” 

The firestorm obeyed briefly as the smith called out to the ice sprite. 

“The sword is in danger! I can no longer protect it while reining in the fire’s desire to spread!”

“I will stand guard for errant flames!” Kalda said. 

Releasing his grasp on the raging inferno, Gobban watched in dismay as wooden beams above the furnace erupted into flames. He struggled to concentrate as a blast of snow and ice snuffed out the fire. He whooped gleefully, seeing the charred wood drip with moisture. Gobban could now focus on the sword, knowing Kalda would watch the fire. Thankful most things in the smithy were made of stone or metal, but he winced, noting his bellows had already been reduced to ash.

Attending to the steel blade nestled deep within the forge, Gobban saw it shone with the light of the midday sun. Now, his task was to maintain a tight wrapping of magical force about the sword. He naturally did this with all his craft, but rarely to this extent. Standard weapons and armor did not require a heat of this magnitude. 

Eventually, Gobban realized they could achieve no more. He decided to withdraw the sword from the forge. Hopefully, the heat they created was enough. Reports of city walls sloughing apart in the beast’s fiery grasp harried his mind. Urgently, the smith studied the forge’s stonework. The granite sill running atop the furnace’s circumference showed signs of bowing inward. Still, his spirits soared, noting the great slabs of dark augite lining the interior walls remained firm, holding their shape. 

“It is time! I am going to quench the sword! Prepare yourself, Kalda! Wrap yourself tight within your snowy magic!”

Gobban fearing the blade would bend, continued to chant a protective spell about his work. His hands screamed as intense heat instantly radiated up through the metal tongs. The pungent smell of singed hair clawed at his nostrils. Gobban charged forward, plunging the brilliant white steel into the quenching vat. The oil erupted violently, causing the smith to stumble backward. Gobban fought to maintain his grasp on the tongs as splattering grease peppered his unprotected arms with angry blisters.

“I fear our success is also our undoing! Our magic allowed us to preserve the sword’s integrity within a heat that should have melted it. But it’s taking too long to cool! I can sense the steel threatening to buckle. It will take all my skill to safeguard our progress.”

“Have a care!” Kalda shouted.

The smith disappeared behind a dark cloud as the oil started to smoke. The fumes billowed and spread, rolling across the ceiling, cascading down the walls to fill the room with their acrid stench. The roar of the boiling oil increased, reminding the ice sprite of a mountain stream swollen with spring meltwater. Gobban’s hazy outline reappeared as the oil ignited, throwing flames high. 

“It’s too hot! The amount of oil is insufficient! It shan’t cool the blade fast enough!” he cried.

 “Let me extinguish the fire and chill the sword,” Kalda said. 

“No! You’ll create an explosion! The ice and snow will react with the oil throwing it everywhere!” 

“Then what shall we do?” Kalda asked. 

“Snuff it out. Pull the air out again with your magic. We’ll have to start over once I devise a way to safely quench the blade.”

“But that will take more time!” 

“There is nothing else we can do. We can’t safely cool the blade fast enough right now.”

Coughing, eyes burning, Gobban continued to sing his magic as he extracted the sword from the burning vat. Oil clung to the metal, wreathing it in flames.

“Wait! It needs to be cooled quickly?”

“Yes, an almost instant drop in temperature is required,” he said. 

Gobban could sense the sprite was about to do something rash. 

“Stop, Kalda. Let us ponder and try again. It is too dangerous!”

“Brace yourself! Keep a firm stance!” she cried. 

“Kalda! No!”

A vortex materialized about the sword threatening to wrest it free with powerful suction. Currents of air siphoned heat, smoke, flame, and oil away from the blade carrying them out the window. Seeing clearly again, Gobban marveled the steel continued to glow brightly with a white-hot radiance. 

A narrow shaft of cold moisture struck without warning, enveloping the sword in pale blue magic. Gobban reflexively flinched against the blast of steam. But, the expected onslaught never came. A strong, warm current of air protected him from behind, shunting the hot vapors into the expanding whirlwind.

Within seconds the sword’s heat and its light diminished and disappeared completely. The smith reached carefully to test the temperature of the blade. He laughed, feeling it was cool to the touch.

“My gods! You’ve done it!”

Kalda danced about the room, chasing the smoke out and smothering the remaining pieces of leather, wood, and cloth still smoldering about the smithy. Gobban noted the ice sprite avoided the vat of fiery grease. She had listened to his warning about trying to use water to douse it. Laying the sword gently aside, he moved to deal with the burning oil. Throwing handfuls of the scouring sand onto the flames, he tamed the fire and secured a lid atop to extinguish the blaze.

“Did I quench the blade fast enough?” Kalda asked.

Gobban picked up the sword and carefully examined it. His face beamed as he looked up across the room. 

“Yes, Kalda,” he whispered, awestruck.

“We are done now?” she asked. “Have we succeeded?”

Gobban could only laugh as he nodded and wept for joy. 

“Yes, we have accomplished a miracle. This weapon has endured even when the granite stones have not. Look at my forge!”

“Then we are done.” Kalda smiled. 

“Almost. Now, let us gently heat our masterpiece to temper and relax the steel. This will prevent the blade from becoming brittle. Otherwise, it could shatter in battle. Supple strength is our goal.”

Gobban returned the sword to rest amid the diminished furnace coals. Kalda watched as he frequently adjusted the sword’s position to modulate the heat.

“We will need to clean and resharpen the edge once more. Are you able to repeat what you did before?”

“I do not tire easily as your kind does,” Kalda smirked. 

“You underestimate humanity.” he laughed. 

Another layer of snow and ice buried Gobban as he held the blade beneath the scouring magic Kalda created. But, the smith found it easier to tolerate knowing their work would indeed fashion a weapon capable of defending the kingdom. He dried and oiled the sword admiring its beauty. Gobban looked up, beaming at Kalda.  

“I believe, my dear Kalda….” Gobban stopped short, realizing what he had just said. He flushed with embarrassment. 

Kalda’s blue incandescent gaze sparkled. 

“Continue my master smith. What do you believe?”

Gobban’s heart burned with a stinging warmth like the tingle fingers experience while thawing from frostbite.

“I believe this is the strongest blade I have…we could ever craft,” he said. 

“Then we have succeeded?”

“I can dare to hope so.”

Kalda thought for a moment. 

“Do you not ward your weapons with runes?”

“Yes, I often do when the need is great.”

“Which will you etch into this blade?”

Gobban considered. 

“Mannaz, certainly, to support and augment the wielder’s power. Urug to foster strength of will. Algiz to provide protection. Naudhiz to declare a great need. Lastly, Sowila to claim success.”

Kalda nodded, quietly thinking. Gobban watched a frown spread across her face. 

“What? What is it?”

“I suggest you add one more additional rune.”

“Which one?”

“Isaz.”

“The ice rune?”


Coming Next: (Part 7 of 7) “Winter Thaws”

“The Forging of Isaz” (Part 4 of 7)

A Short Story Set in a Mythical Nordic Medieval World.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Glossary of Terms and Characters

  • Völvur: a shamanic order of women capable of foresight and communing with the otherworld.
  • Jötunn: god-like elemental forces of nature from the mountains, forests and wilds of the tundra. (Giants.) 
  • Gobban: a Norseman, a smith and master craftsman of weapons.
  • Kalda: servant of Skadi, an ice sprite. 
  • Skadi: winter goddess of jötunnic origins.
  • Seiomenn: men who practice conjuring magics. 
  • Greta: the queen’s seeress.
  • Alfar: fairies, elves.  

Part 4 “Songs of the Winter Forge”


Frigid air rushed into the room as Kalda stopped speaking. She turned to face the smith and his subdued forge. She furrowed her brows with concern, biting her lower lip. Gobban felt the display of emotion made the winter fairy appear more human. He instantly longed to comfort the sprite, reassuring her no great harm had been done by her magic. As he stared, he wondered what made the fey folk so different and yet similar to humans. 

“I did not realize, Gobban. I am sorry. I only sought to help.”

“Do not worry. I am hale and hearty. It will take only a little effort to recover the necessary heat to continue forging.”

Gobban walked to the furnace and stirred the embers. Adding more coal, he began to work at the bellows again and sing his enchantments to the fire.

Wood, coal, peat, and pitch.

Awaken, ignite, erupt and blaze.

Work have I, metal to shape.

Heed my voice. Raise the heat.

Ore is hard, brittle, and dense.

Coal is hot, eager to burn.  

Heed my voice. Raise the heat. 

Relax, soften, pliable be.

Hammer, anvil will transform. 

Work have I, metal to shape. 

Heed my voice. Raise the heat. 

Offerings from the four winds I make. 

Breathe deep, leap up….”

Gobban abruptly stopped chanting, letting out a triumphant shout.  

“Kalda! How foolish of me. I know exactly how you can aid my efforts!” 

“How?”

“We’ve had it backward! We don’t want to remove the air; we want more of it!”

The ice sprite peered intensely at Gobban, her sapphire blue eyes burning bright. 

“I do not understand. The cold, chill, winter air will assist in intensifying the fire?”

“Fire is alive, Kalda. It dies without air. It breathes like a living thing. The more air it consumes, the greater its heat. Speak with the wintery winds. Convince them to fan the flames in the forge. Surely, that will muster the heat I and my song can not.”

Kalda looked perplexed.

“You need the air to go into the fires?”

“Yes.”

“But, the winter winds are frigid. They are fierce and mean. They will try to destroy you and your fire. Even humans extinguish a candle with their breath.”

“That is true. But, this fire will not go out. The gusts will only make it grow.”

“Won’t you be burnt?”

“I may singe hair and scorch my hide, but gods willing, the runes I wear will prevent any lasting harm. And every smith has to concern himself with a fire out of control at one time or another. One of the first smithing songs I learned was a tune of taming. The flames will obey me. They will not leave the furnace. I will demand they remain content with their fuel and promise to keep them ever well-fed.”

Kalda nodded with a smirk and a glint in her eyes. 

“I will call upon the winter wind. It will come. Like your flames, it obeys me.”

Gobban spirits soared, feeling this strange, new connection to Kalda. His hopes for crafting a weapon capable of slaying the beast rose. He resolved going forward to have more respect for the völvur. Not since boyhood had he observed the effects of their guidance directly. As an adult, Gobban often downplayed the importance of fate, declaring he was master of his own destiny.

“Right! Let’s work with all haste.” Gobban said. 

Kalda’s voice rose with her song again. Gesturing, she beckoned the wintery elements in. The incoming air whipped about her. The ice sprite’s protective shell of magic guttered like a candle in the wind. Bits of snow, sleet, and ice hissed, violently evaporating into angry wisps of moisture as they were pulled toward the heat. Within the furnace, Goabban watched the coals flare up with a burst of flames. There was no need to pump the bellows.

“It’s working!” the smith called out. 

Gobban uttered his chants, monitoring the rapid change in the steel. It already was the familiar golden, yellow glow. Gobban observed blue flames develop, indicating the fire was growing hotter. His thoughts drifted to the tales of the devilish monster melting raw stone. He wondered exactly how hot the beast’s fire raged. He needed to forge his steel with a temperature even more intense. But, Gobban suspected the metal would then be too soft to work. Nevertheless, he knew he had to try. 

“The forge needs to burn hotter!” he bellowed. 

“I will not hold back then,” Kalda said. 

A maelstrom of wintry precipitation raged within the smithy. The stone floor was slick and damp. Kalda strained to usher more air in against a steadily building resistance. Holding the winds inside was like keeping an upturned bucket full of air underwater. 

“It would be best to open the opposite window. It will provide a path for the currents to exit. This will generate better airflow!” Kalda cried out. 

Gobban perceived the ice sprite’s growing struggle. Only a thin layer of the protective magic encircling her was discernible. 

“It’s becoming too hot for you!” he said.

He was becoming acutely aware the same was true for him. A terrible thirst wracked his throat, his lips felt cracked, and his exposed skin was blistering. 

“I won’t give up! If we can vent this torrid air through another window, I can draw in more wind to fan the forge fires without it circling back upon myself.”

Gobban ran to the shuttered window on the far wall and flung it open. A gust of escaping air buffeted him about as it rushed out. 

“It is done! Is it helping?”

“Yes!”

Gobban shielded his eyes from the brilliant light from the coals as he returned to his forge. He beheld within the inferno the blazing white-hot steel. It threatened to bend as he pulled it from the furnace. He hastily draped the steel bar across the anvil. Carefully modulating the intensity of his swing, Gobban let his hammer fall. The metal over responded to the blow. 

“Blast! It’s too soft!” he yelled.

“Wait, let me help. I comprehend now what you are endeavoring to accomplish.” 

Before the smith could respond, he felt the icy stab of a focused current of frigid air strike him. Glancing down quickly to his anvil, he saw the metal’s light dim. Gobban hammered again. The steel pushed back with tenacity while yielding favorably to the smith’s demands. 

“Well done, Kalda! The metal remains hotter and softer internally. Yet, somehow, this gentle cooling has returned just enough external integrity allowing me to continue to shape it.”

“Good. I greatly desire to observe the final result of our efforts.”

Gobban hazarded a quick glance toward Kalda. His heart leaped upon seeing an intense smile upon her face. 

“Yes, I too am eager to learn more of the unique nature this blade will possess.”

Both labored tirelessly in such a fashion. Kalda alternately kept the furnace flames ready and hot while bathing the sword Gobban worked with subtle jets of cool air. The smith could hammer and shape for longer intervals of time and waited less for the metal to return to optimal temperature when reheated.

“I will now draw the blade out.”

Gobban returned the steel briefly to the forge. Returning the sword to his anvil, he furiously attacked it with a shower of blows. Each strike fell diagonally at an angle to the length of the blade. Before long, Kalda could see the steel was noticeably thinner and had doubled its reach. 

“You have pulled the metal out to a great extent, Gobban. Will the blade not be too weak if stretched so far?” Kalda asked. 

“That would be the case with lesser steel, but adamantium steel is exceedingly strong. We are fortunate to be working with such a quantity of the highest quality material.”

“Will it be what humans call a longsword?”

“I intend to expand the reach of this weapon even further. The fiery beast radiates scorching flames far beyond its body. I hope to provide this sword’s wielder with the ability to strike from the furthest possible distance.”

“It will be a great sword indeed then.”

“It will be nearly a foot longer than a longsword. This shall be a great claymore blade!”


Coming Next: (Part 5 of 7) “Force of Nature”