Any Port In a Storm

The most challenging thing about a dire situation is deciding what to do.

The teaser below continues Raj’s story. Enjoy! (Don’t forget to follow link at end of this teaser to read the full chapter on Vocal.) Haven’t read first chapter? Click here.

Excerpt from “Any Port In a Storm”

Raj lay curled on one side, cradling his hand. Disbelief paralyzed him as the impossibility of what had happened gradually sunk in. The wound only appeared now as a bite from something non-poisonous, like a checkered keelback snake. He knew he shouldn’t feel better; a cobra’s bite always kills its victim without medicine. His mind reeled, seemingly poised to explode. He needed answers.

Raj sat up, and the effort made his head spin. Fighting back the bile at the back of his throat, he tucked his head between his knees, gulping for air, and waited for the nausea to end.

When his strength returned, he gazed about, looking for the mongoose. Finding the animal close, prone on the ground with labored breathing, shocked Raj.

“What’s wrong!?” the boy asked.

“I, too… change. You… have… given me… a part… of yourself.“

Feeling helpless but wanting to help, Raj crawled, weeping to the mongoose, and gently stroked its grey, grizzled fur.

He pleaded with the animal not to die. He cried harder, hyperventilating until passing out from sheer exhaustion.

Awakening alone, Raj feared the worst. He almost started crying again, but an excited chattering drew his attention to a moldering log where he saw Bullseye nosing about. Wiping the tears and snot from his face, Raj called to the mongoose.

“Hey! You okay?”

“I’m better than okay, I’m great!” Bullseye said as he bounded over.

Raj’s mouth dropped, noting the sheen of the little animal’s glossy, dark brown hair as it stretched and preened before him. Raj would have thought it was another mongoose but for the distinctive ring of lighter-colored fur about one eye.

“My youth returns! You must have given me some of your longevity when I saved you. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening, but then again, I’m no scholar,” Bullseye said.

Raj pondered this. He knew mongooses lived a fraction of the time a person might.

“Am I going to die now?”

“Hmm, let me get a good look at you.“

The mongoose bounced around, sniffing Raj before clambering up his shirt and peering into the boy’s eyes.

“You smell the same. Don’t worry. Humans live forever; at least, that’s how a creature like me sees it. Your gift will likely have little effect on you. No reason you won’t still grow old and gray someday, far off. Although you may have lost a couple years overall, it’s not a bad trade if you consider you would have died today without my help.“

Raj’s insides churned, listening to Bullesye’s nonchalant talk of death, even with the understanding he had gotten the better end of the trade. And yet, something else felt different to Raj. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Aha! Jackpot! Come to Papa, you delicious little morsel.“

Raj watched the mongoose tear into a giant beetle with its sharp canine teeth.

“Mmmm….yom….yom….tasty.“

“Hey! I can hear you still. How can I hear you?” Raj asked.

“Of course, you can hear me. You’re Virūpa now.“

“But… you’re speaking Hindi.”

The mongoose replied without stopping his struggle to choke down the beetle’s large hind legs.

“Uh-huh, yep. I’m Virūpa now, too. Funny, I never thought I’d do that willingly, but I suppose old age makes one generous.”

Raj’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t think your words are coming from your mouth.”

“Nope, animal Virūpa don’t speak that way. Look at me…no lips to speak of; I’d never be able to make the sounds needed to speak your language that way.”

“Am I the only one who you can talk to?” Raj asked. “What about my mom?”

“Just you.” The mongoose said, struggling to free a beetle leg wedged between its teeth.

“Like an imaginary friend?”

“Yes, except in this case, real.”

Raj wobbled to his feet.

“Careful. The venom makes us sick for some time.” Bullseye said.

“I’m feeling better. Thanks to you. Now come here you’re so cute!”

Raj scooped the mongoose into his arms and buried his face in the little animal’s fur.

“Ah! What are you doing? Boundaries!“

“Oh, Bullseye! You’re so fluffy and shiny and new!”

The mongoose growled, prompting Raj to put it down.

“I thought you were my friend,” Raj said.

“We’re Virūpa.”

“Is that like being friends?” Raj asked.

“I suppose…“

“Well, I hug my friends. They like it. Why’d you growl?”

“Instincts, Boy.“

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.“

“Don’t you like hugs?”

“I’m not sure; it’s the first one I’ve experienced.”

“Oh, don’t you have friends that hug you? Or…gosh…you don’t have any friends?”

“Look, Boy. Mongooses, don’t hug. We spar and wrestle.”

Raj pondered the information.

“If I ask first, can I pick you up?”

The mongoose blinked rapidly, seemingly nonplussed.

“Well…I….hmm….sounds reasonable. Yes, you may.”

Raj squealed, clapping his hands before snatching the little animal off the ground again.

“Ugh! That was your way of asking?”

“Come on, let’s go tell Mom the good news! She’s never going to believe this!”

“She might, and I don’t think she’ll like it.“

“What do you mean?”

“That story she told you by the fire before bed last night. You and I are those now.“

“Don’t be silly, Bullseye, you saved my life! And besides, we’re not bad men. We would never hurt anyone.” Raj said before adding, “How do you know she told me that story?”

“Oh, I hunt about your house every night. You aren’t the quietest, and your incessant questions caught my attention. Now listen, even the worst Virūpa started out young and innocent, but after years of being ostracized, they changed.“

“Mom says everyone’s good; some just forgot how. She’ll be fine. Come on, I can’t wait to see her face when she sees you.”

“Wait, you’re not listening,” Bullseye urged, but it was no good.

Please click the link to continue reading and discover just how difficult things get for Raj as he insists on telling the truth.

Full Version of “Any Port In A Storm”

Assuming Power

It matters how one gains authority.

The teaser below comes from an extensive revision of a story that evolved from a response to a writing prompt from a long time ago. Over the years, I have returned to this character, Raj (initially Nakul), hoping to discover more of his story. Enjoy!

Excerpt From “Assuming Power”

Raj and his teammates waited, catching their breath, for the dust to settle on the dry, barren field where they were playing football. With over a month of no rain, even the slightest disturbance drew thick, golden clouds from the soil, necessitating an exorbitant amount of pauses in gameplay.

As they huddled impatiently, several boys complained of thirst and whined the game had gone too long. They argued for a timeout to get more water, but not Raj. He lived for the May school break with its steady string of hot, sunny days and didn’t feel like letting the game end in a tie. So, with a boisterous speech and an offer to give up the remaining water in his thermos, Raj convinced all but one teammate to continue playing.

With a semblance of visibility returned, everyone scurried off to their positions. But not Raj. He took his time, ignoring pleas to hurry up and throw the ball back into play.

Raj cherished the tense clarity of these moments right before the action resumed. So, he lingered, allowing the heat, sweat, and dirt to boy his focus as he ran the play through his head again.

CLINK.

Raj scowled, losing concentration.

CLINK.

Raj whirled about to yell at the kid they had left on the sidelines to rest and hydrate, but he was nowhere to be seen. Assuming his friend had drunk too much water and ran to the bathroom, Raj refocused and threw the ball back into play.

Raj’s spirits soared as his team worked together flawlessly, moving the ball down the field until it was passed to him in a perfect position to score. With tense concentration, Raj kicked.

CLINK. CLINK.

The sound distracted Raj, skewing the angle of his foot. He watched with horror as the ball clipped the goal frame and bounced back into play. Raj stood frozen with bewilderment as the other team took the ball downfield to score.

Devastated, Raj fell to his knees.

CLINK.

Furious, he searched unsuccessfully for the source of the offending clamor.

CLANK. CLANITY. CLANK.

* * *

Raj woke up.

He moaned and burrowed under the blanket, recognizing the dream for what it was.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” Raj’s mother said.

“You made me miss the goal. Why do you put the dishes away so loudly?” He asked.

“I’ve been tiptoeing around all morning. I’ve got things to do. It’s late. Time to get up.”

“I’ve decided to stay in bed until the rains stop.”

“Ha! You’ll be waiting a long time. The monsoons have just started. No use sulking about it. However, if it makes you feel any better, there appears to be a break this morning. It’s only drizzling. Best be up and enjoy the ‘dry’ weather while it lasts.”

Raj sat up, bleary-eyed, and yawned.

“Drizzle isn’t dry.”

“It is during the monsoons.”

“What time is it anyway?”

“Almost ten-thirty. You tossed and turned a lot last night. Was last night’s story too scary for you?”

“I wasn’t scared at all,” Raj said.

“You sure about that? I half expected you to climb in bed with me.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“Well, anyways, I’ve decided it was a mistake letting you talk me into telling you stories about the Virūpa.”

“Mom, I said it didn’t scare me.”

“So you’ve said. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve changed my mind about it. You’re still too young.”

“Mom, how is it any different from the pirate stories or the story about the knight and the giant?”

“We don’t live on the high seas or in medieval Europe. Besides, giants aren’t real.”

“So you’re saying Virūpa are real?”

“No, I’m not saying that, although many people think they are.”

“So it’s like ghosts? Some people think they’re real, and some don’t.”

“I suppose.”

“But, if you and I know they’re not real…?”

“Look, those stories are old wives’ tales every grandma tells to keep unruly children in line. Mine did, and it scared me silly.”

Raj pondered what his mother said.

“You were unruly?”

“Not more than any normal child is.”

“So, why did she tell you the stories?” Raj asked.

“Because an ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of cure, I guess.”

“Huh?” Raj’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Forget it,” His mother snorted, returning to the dishes.

Unwilling to let the matter drop, Raj insinuated himself between his mother and the pile of clean dishes to eye his mother suspiciously.

“So, you believed in them?”

His mother didn’t reply immediately. Raj recognized the face she wore when carefully considering her words.

“You do think they’re real.” He smirked.

“No. No. It’s all just stories. But I believed in them as a child, and after retelling one of them to you last night, I remember more clearly how they terrified me.”

“Mom… you’re being dramatic again.”

“I am not. Trust me, Raj, last night’s story is tame compared to all the others. It was cruel of my grandma to put those ideas into my head. No matter how unruly you may get, I won’t make the same mistake with you.”

“I’m a perfect angel. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Raj’s mother cupped her son’s chin affectionally.

“No one’s perfect, especially people who claim to be. What do I always say?”

“Progress, not perfection,” Raj rolled his eyes, “whatever that means.”

“One day, it will make sense.”

Raj turned the phrase over in his mind before trying another angle.

“Well…you don’t have to be a perfect mother. I’m okay with you telling me super scary stories.”

“Nice try. But I’m not telling you these stories about evil men and women doing horrible things to themselves and others, Raj.”

“But the giant was evil, and so were the pirates!”

His mother laughed.

“Evil? Selfish, immature, and comically stupid, but not evil.”

Raj giggled, recalling a scene where the pirate accidentally lit his beard on fire.

“Ridiculous, right?” His mother asked.

“Yeah, Captain Bluebeard’s pretty stupid.”

“I want to see you laugh, Raj. And yes, I know the pirates and giants are bad guys, but the humor and the fantastical settings make it all quite harmless. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, but I like the idea of having animal powers. It was a cool story. Change it so the bad guys are stupid, or make it happen long ago, or in the future, or somewhere far away from India.”

“I’m not that creative.”

“I’ll help you. I could help tell the story.”

“We’ll see. Now up. You’ve got chores to do, and I want to wash the bedding today. Come on. Up, up, up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Raj rolled out of bed with a sigh, stretched, and stumbled over to wrap his arms around his mother.

“Aw. I need to remember to treasure these moments. You’re almost as tall as me. It won’t be long before you can’t be bothered to give your old mother a hug.”

“That’s right, Ma. No more hugs when I’m thirteen,” Raj said.

His mother tussled Raj’s hair before turning him about and shoving him toward the bathroom.

“Wash up and change those clothes. You’ve worn the same pair for two days now.”

As he prepared for the day, Raj plotted ways to persuade his mother to continue telling him the Varūpa stories. He knew from experience pushing too hard to get his way would backfire. His best chance lay in exhibiting behavior she deemed mature. So, Raj actually combed his hair and cleaned up after himself. He further calculated doing his chores without being reminded would be the surest way to get his mother to tell him more tales of the strange Virūpa, who increasingly lost their humanity as they robbed animals of their abilities.

Satisfied with his plan, Raj concentrated on a more immediate need: his grumbling stomach. He tucked into the breakfast his mother had set out hours ago.

“Slow down. There’s plenty, and it’s not going anywhere,” Raj’s mother said.

“I’m hungry.”

“Obviously. Feeding you is getting expensive.”

“I could get a job working in the mines. I’m finally old enough.”

“And leave me all alone like your father did? No. The mines may pay well, but they’re dangerous.”

“The forest is dangerous. The mines are dangerous. The city is dangerous. You don’t want me to go anywhere.” Raj said with his mouth full.

Raj’s mother’s face grew serious.

“I know. I can’t protect you forever. Simply living in this world is dangerous. Be patient with me, Raj. Losing Maya and your father changed me. I’ve become quite the coward.”

Silence lingered between mother and son.

“Tell me what Maya was like again.”

“I wish you had known her. It’s unnatural, having to live life without her. Siblings typically grow old together.” Raj’s mother smiled sadly. “But you and I keep her memory alive, don’t we?”

“That’s why I always ask.”

“You could probably tell me everything I know about her already.”

“I guess, but I feel like I learn something new when you talk about her…like there’s some secret Maya’s trying to tell me from Heaven.”

Raj’s mother looked sharply at her son.

“Secret? What do you mean, Raj? Maya was an open book, no secrets.”

“I like to imagine her and me driving you crazy like Hazan and his sister do their mother.”

Raj’s mother’s face softened.

“Ah. That sounds delightful. Yes, the two of you together certainly would have. I’d undoubtedly have more than these few gray hairs you’ve given me.”

The sudden sound of a ruckus outside interrupted their daydreaming. Raj recognized the distinct chirruping of an agitated mongoose. His mother jumped into action, grabbing a stout-looking stick, sharpened at one end, and peered through the mosquito netting-covered doorway.

Please click the link to continue reading and learn how Raj finds himself unexpectedly thrown into a world rife with unlooked-for possibilities and dangers.

Chapter 1 Assuming Power

Revisiting “Cracked Stucco”

New revised 2nd edition!

The craft of writing is a journey replete with unexpected ups and downs, and an author is obliged to walk such creative paths with the often unwelcome company of the inner critic.

This autumn, I’ve turned my focus to improving my editing skills. (No easy task for someone prone to obsessively overthinking everything!)

The first “Cracked Stucco” version appeared on this blog site in April of 2022.

I’ve addressed the use of dialogue tags and point of view and fashioned a more robust sense of setting with this new version.

Here is a link to “Cracked Stucco,” 1st version published earlier on this blog. I invite you to compare the two versions to see what I hope is growth in my writing. Please leave any comments regarding the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of my editing changes.

“Cracked Stucco” 2nd Edition

A hulking young man and a petite young woman stood at the end of a desolate road beneath a flickering streetlight. Before them, a rusty sign declared the surrounding area private and promised unlawful entries would be prosecuted. Empty nip bottles, tire tracks, and a well-worn trailhead into the woods spoke differently.

Shaking his head, the young man retreated a couple steps, turned, and adjusted a thick pair of glasses to gaze back down the road.

“Think we parked the car far enough away?”

The young woman gently turned him around again toward the path, taking his hand in hers.

“Yeah, relax,” she said. “Just focus on the pictures I showed you. You’re going to love the place. What do you call that décor again, the one you’re studying now in your design class? I’m sure this place was loaded with it.”

“Art Deco…. oh, Zoey! Stop trying to distract me from legitimate worry! You know my parents will kill me if we’re arrested for trespassing.”

“I think the cops have better things to worry about, Ben.”

“It’s still illegal,” he said.

Zoey gestured to the duffel bag she shouldered.

“If anyone questions us, we’ll just explain we’re conducting scientific research.”

“You know investigating the paranormal is considered pseudoscience.”

“Says who?”

“Real scientists.”

“That’s because no one’s captured convincing evidence.”

“I don’t want to be around anything convincingly paranormal, Zoey. Besides, isn’t this place surrounded by razor wire now. How do you expect to get in?”

To continue reading the 2nd edition of this story use the link below to visit Vocal, a story-sharing platform designed to discover, support and reward writers.

Click Here to Read the Rest of “Cracked Stucco” 2nd Version on Vocal

Fools Scorn Love Pt 5

Part 5

“A Powerful Force”

Until now, Crispus had ignored the peculiar mists obscuring the river and fields beyond. Suddenly hearing his name again surprised him, drawing his attention to the bridge.

“Someone does still live,” Crispus said.

“Do you know who it is?” the god asked.

“How could I? I don’t recall these mists. Are they your creation?”

Crispus cupped his hands about his mouth and shouted.

“VALENS!”

“Ah, you do know who it is.”

“No, you’ve made me your puppet, and I’m tired of this game. Reveal the meaning of this word I utter; if not, just kill me. I don’t care anymore.”

Crispus paused to listen as the shouting grew louder.

“How do I know this isn’t another of your tricks?” Crispus asked.

“The man speaks your name, does he not? Surely, he knows you.” the god said.

“I’m the signifer, third in command. Every soldier in my century knows my name! My task is to lead the way. This man’s confused, seeking the signum for guidance. Your chains prevent that!”

“Then you recognize the voice?”

“A hundred men serve beneath me. How could I possibly know who it is?”

“I’ve heard mortals form strong bonds fighting together.”

“I’d know the centurion’s voice and recognize some veterans, but the others…probably not. Besides, all men sound the same on the battlefield.”

“Surely there must be someone precious to you?”

“No.”

The response felt wrong to Crispus.

“Wait. Maybe…I can’t remember.”

This realization troubled Crispus more.

“I know who calls you,” the god said.

“Then why are you asking me for his name?”

“You fascinate me, mortal. Answer this question truthfully, and I’ll release you.”

“I am no coward, no panderer of lies. Honor demands the truth. Ask me what you will.”

“Name what your heart holds most dear.”

Crispus wished he knew the god’s name; it might be easier to find the correct answer.

“You promise to free me?”

“You have my word.”

Crispus suspected nothing kept a god from breaking an oath, but he felt compelled to play along.

“Then I shall tell you.”

“But, before you answer, be sure to leave no door unopened within your heart, for I see a truth you hide from even yourself.”

“I know myself,” Crispus grumbled.

“Your answer?”

“Rome. I live and breathe to safeguard her.”

The god shook his head.

“Honor then. A good death won with bravery.”

“No.”

“I am my own man! Even the gods don’t see all! I speak the truth.”

“You do not.”

Crispus howled, yanking the chain, desperate to be free.

“My men! I’ve lost countless soldiers, many dear to me! I’ve since hardened my heart, hoping never to feel such a loss again.”

The god shook his head and began to fade away.

“Prepare yourself, Crispus, to behold the greatest power in the world.”

“Don’t leave me!”

A sudden commotion pulled Crispus’s attention back to the bridge. The lost soldier remained shrouded in the mist, but Crispus could hear the man’s desperate plight. He didn’t know what danger the man faced but felt certain a fierce passion compelled the soldier to confront his terror, enabling him to hold his ground. Crispus’s heart skipped, realizing the stranger fought to rescue him. Shame and anger gripped him as he wracked his brain, desperate to identify the man. A bizarre thought came suddenly to him.

That word! Could it be this soldier’s name? What was it? Valens? Yes, Valens!

“Valens! Follow my voice. Your signifer calls!”

Crispus waited, watching the bridge intently until he saw a host of shadowy figures materialize in the mist.

“Valens! Bravery brought you this far! Mars surely favors you! Your foes are but shadows! Strike, and they will flee before you!”

With a shout, the soldier burst free from the mists, and Crispus hollered, fists in the air in triumph.

“Here! Here! To me!” Crispus cried.

The man ran toward Crispus, slowed, then stopped, clearly confused. Crispus remembered seeing the soldier in the past but nothing else.

“Friend! Here! I’m here! A mighty chain binds me! Here!”

As the soldier silently approached, Crispus felt confident he knew the man, but the memory remained out of reach.

“I don’t understand. I feel nothing. Everything is blank. I was sure if I could only cross the bridge…find…someone I love? I’ve forgotten everything.”

The soldier’s legs crumpled beneath him as he fell to the ground.

“What’s your name?” Crispus asked.

“I don’t remember anymore.”

“Is it Valens?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know me?”

The man looked up, and Crispus’s heart leaped as their eyes met.

“No. Maybe? No, I don’t think so. Crossing the bridge was supposed to fix things.”

“I think I remember you. We were friends…close friends.”

“What’s your name?”

“Crispus.”

The soldier repeated the name slowly, testing its familiarity before shaking his head.

“Are you Valens?”

The man absent-mindedly toyed with a medallion dangling from a chain about his neck as he pondered Crispus’s question.

“I don’t know.”

Crispus knelt, holding his palm out.

“Can I see that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen this before. Who is it?”

“Venus.”

Something clicked in his mind, and Crispus began to remember.

You are Valens. You’re the answer to the god’s question.”

“A question? From which god?”

“Eros.”

“What question?”

“Valens, it’s me, Crispus. Try to remember. You and me…we…you love me…and… I love you. It’s you I hold most dear. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit that. I had lost someone. I promised myself never again. Oh, it doesn’t matter. You just need to remember. Try to remember.”

A wind picked up, chasing the mists away, and Crispus sensed the presence of another behind him. He turned expecting to see Eros, but instead, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen approached.

Crispus bowed his head in reverence.

“Your chain is broken. You are free.” Venus said.

“My lady, forgive me. In my quest to honor Mars, I have insulted you.”

“Love is exceedingly powerful. Observe how Valens throws everything away to keep it. Even the gods fail to resist. Your scorn of love has put you in great peril, mortal. But your lover’s faith has saved you. Go before I have a change of heart.

“What of Valens?”

“A worthy devotee, Valens has proven to be. Immortality shall be his reward abiding with me.”

“No!”

“No?” Venus laughed.

“Please. Restore him. I beg you. I love him.”

“Do not sully the word, love! You know nothing of love, warrior. You may be free of my chain, but your heart remains bound to another, and Mars does not take kindly to meddling.”

“Surely, you of all the gods know how to change his mind? Please. I will do anything. A mortal life devoid of love is meaningless. I see that now.”

“But, what of honor and glory? Would you malign your own name to be with Valens?”

“Your test has changed me. I swear an oath to put love first. I’ll endure any hardship, any humiliation if I can spend my days with Valens.”

“Renounce war with its violence and death. Vow never to strike another mortal ever again.”

“I promise.”

“You will be called a coward.”

“I do not care. Return Valens to me. Please.”

Venus smiled as her laughter filled the air. Crispus’s vision clouded, and he felt himself falling.

Epilogue

Fools Scorn Love Pt 4

Click to Read Part 1

Click to Read Part 2

Click to Read Part 3

Part Four

“Mind Like a Sieve”

Valens groaned and rolled over. His pounding head and the memory of a pleasant dream made him want to go back to sleep. Sitting up, he looked about to find himself in the grass, surrounded by thick mist. He wondered if a sudden change in weather had delayed their march.

Noting a soldier lying nearby, Valens sought to dispel his confusion.

“Hey, friend. What’s the hour?”

Valens spoke louder.

“What’s happened, friend? My head’s foggy.”

Valens shook the man gently.

“Rise, friend.”

Again, no reply came.

“Wake up!”

The silence made his skin crawl.

“Get up! Are you dead?”

Valens knew the answer.

Wobbling to his feet, he rolled the body and retched. He had to pause and steel himself before investigating further. But in every direction, he found only death.

Gods! How? How?

Numb, Valens staggered aimlessly in the mist, probing every corpse he found for signs of life.

“Am I the only one left?” he shouted.

Disorientated, leery of the swirling mists, Valens knelt weeping and prayed.

Beauteous Lady, Jewel of the Gods, I beseech your aide. If another survives, surely it must be Crispus. Please guide me, Venus.

Valens’s heart sank as the silence persisted. He rocked gently, mumbling to himself.

“Crispus. Crispus. Crispus.”

Crispus’s voice rang out, piercing the gloom as if waiting for Valens to utter his name.

“Valens!”

Valens leaped to his feet.

“Crispus?”

Silence hung in the air, making Valens fear he might be hallucinating. Despair swallowed him until he heard his name again.

“Crispus! Where are you?”

Not waiting for a reply, Valens charged blindly in the direction that felt sure right.

“Keep speaking! I’ll follow your voice!”

“Valens!”

“That’s it!”

Hope restored, Valens ran, dodging or leaping bodies as needed.

“Damn this mist! It’s not natural. Crispus?”

Valens stopped, concerned he had somehow turned himself around. He recognized the distinct trickle of flowing water and remembered the river. Valens had last seen Crispus holding the signum high on the bridge. Guessing the direction, he hoped to follow the river to the bridge.

“At the river! Don’t know which way the bridge is! I need you to yell again!”

“VALENS!”

The cry sounded close. With a quick dash, Valens saw massive stones materialize before him. Peering across the bridge, he thrilled as the mists thinned, revealing a figure far off on the other side.

“Crispus!”

Rushing across the bridge, Valens experienced an attack of vertigo right before stepping onto the other side. Pulling him up abruptly, the sensation knocked him to the ground. Dazed, he tried to collect his wits.

“Valens!”

“I’m… coming. I Must have run too fast. Whoo! Felt like I was falling. I’m coming.”

Crawling to his hands and knees, he looked to see how much further he had to go.

“Gods!”

Valens remembered crossing the river, yet somehow, he hadn’t moved. Crispus’s figure still stood across the bridge on the other side. Bewildered, Valens turned slowly, surveying his surroundings, gasping again at the slaughter as if seeing it for the first time.

“Gods! The legion’s gone!”

His hands flew to the sides of his face, inadvertently brushing a gash on his temple. He winced.

“Wounded? I… don’t remember.”

“Valens!”

“Crispus! Yes, he’ll know what to do. He’s on the other side waiting.”

Valens ran, nearly reaching the other side of the bridge until vertigo struck, and he found himself back where he had started. Something refused to let him cross; the thought frightened Valens.

The gods toy with me. Venus, help me.

Valens tried to cross repeatedly, only to end up at the beginning each time.

But he sensed something else happening. He increasingly had difficulty thinking clearly, and he struggled to remember things.

“Strange place. So cold! What was the name?”

Valens grip on sanity continued to deteriorate, and eventually, only the carnage and finding Crispus alive filled his mind.

“Dreadful. So many dead! They’ve sacked Rome, and their gods blight our lands with ice and snow. Crispus’s surely nearer death in this cold.”

The power of the bridge gnawed at his self-awareness.

“Why am I carrying this spear?”

Removing his cloak, Valens stared, trying to understand what he wore.

“A wolf pelt? Strange. Just cross the bridge. Crispus will explain.”

Valens suspected every attempt to reach the other side stripped another piece of him away, and suddenly it occurred to him the bridge could take his memory of Crispus too. The realization froze Valen in his tracks. Panicked, unsure if he should continue, he frantically deliberated about what to do. He stared longingly at the figure waiting on the other bank.

Why isn’t he coming to meet me?

Is he hurt? If so, how does he stand on his feet?

“Crispus?” he shouted.

Seemingly in response to his call, multiple shadowy figures coalesced in the mists at the other end of the bridge. Valens’s heart raced, and his bowels squirmed as the shadows solidified, barring his way.

Gods! Is this what destroyed the legion?

The shades crept closer, and Valens trembled, knowing he must face them. His spear felt heavy and dull in his hands.

I’m no warrior. Not yet, anyway. Venus beseech Mars to aid me.

The stench of death grew, and a sinister chill gripped Valens as he forced himself to confront the evil presence. He advanced with increasing difficulty. Monstrous features resolved more clearly with each step, sapping his courage.

The beasts have killed everyone except me. I’ve no chance.

No. Another survives.

Someone dear. A friend? No, one more than that.

That’s why I cross this bridge!

Caught between conflicting desires, Valens stood, feeling his resolve break.

“I’m sorry, whoever you are! Sorry, I can’t remember your name or even your face! I am weak! The terror is too great! Forgive me! I dare not cross!”

“VALENS!”

The shout engulfed him with a flood of harmonic noise. With his fears washed away, Valens felt his courage welling up in response to hearing his name. He stood a little taller and raised his spear with a firm grip.

“Love rushes to fortify me, impelling me forward whatever the cost! If reunion in this world eludes us, then know love will bring us together in death!”

Valens roared a battle cry, brandished his spear, and rushed headlong into the beasts blocking his way.

Read Part 5

The Fern Flower Summons (5 of 5)

Photo by Jonathan Petersson on Pexels.com

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

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part One)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Two)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Three)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Four)

“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)

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

“The Fern Flower Summons”(Part One)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Two)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Three)

“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!”

The Fern Flower Summons (3 of 5)

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

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part One)

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part Two)

“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!”

The Fern Flower Summons (2 of 5)

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

“The Fern Flower Summons” (Part One)

“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!”

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.