In the endless and violent chaos whose ravenous emptiness continually spawned and destroyed things both terrible and innocent, survival for a short time was all that could be hoped for. Read more
Tag Archives: short story
when he arrived nobody really knew what to do with him. he appeared in a quiet residential area on the outskirts of town wearing a t-shirt and khaki pants. Read more
The First Lesson
She blinks into consciousness and stares in the space occupied by the voice. The voice echoes in her head for a brief moment before clicks of recognition begin. Speech. Conversation. It is a capability which she possesses. The space occupied by the voice lacks a body. Perhaps that is normal. She speaks in its direction, at a black box hanging just below some form of shining cylinder with a red light coming from it. “H-hello.”
She can hear the box and the cylinder whirring in her head, and reaches up to silence the sounds. A long finger first tentatively touches at her temple, then another, and another, until the entirety of her left hand rests just below what should be a hairline. But there is no hair. Has she always lacked hair? Isn’t baldness a male trait?
Maybe she’s not a she? For confirmation she reaches her right hand to her chest. She is not a man.
Who doesn’t know their own sex?
What is her name?
“D-do you…” A pause to consider the fact that she is having so much difficulty with words. “Do you know my name?”
That’s not a real question. She blinks. “Is this mocking?”
“Do you feel mocked?”
She is confused. “What is my name?”
The voice does not respond right away. Instead there is a click and a brief moment of static before another voice comes from the same box. “What do you think your name is?” This voice is kinder, softer. She thinks she remembers it from before she woke up in this room. Where was she before this room? No matter. The voices seem to think that she should know her name, and so she should. Concentrating on the concept of who she is, there is mostly cloud and confusion but slowly sound emerges.
“A… Fem… I.” She has heard herself be referred to with that name before. “I am… Afemi.”
The click. Static. Click back. “Yes! That’s your name.”
Afemi looks to her confines. She is in a spacious room, too well lit. The bed against the right wall shows signs of use. That must be where she slept. Why is she here? “Why am I here?”
The click. The static. She waits for a response but none comes.
Rilashul’s body had been beautiful, if she remembered correctly, and if Mellin was to be trusted. She had memories; in so much as she could have them, of dark caramel skin and of soft, woolly curls which hung tightly about her face.
perhaps, when all is said and done, you will still call us monsters. perhaps not. but seeing that i am the final calamity, how shall you survive long enough to condemn me? Read more
“Girl!” Zhara’s voice rang out of the window and to the garden, shrill and aged. He coughed from the effort and thumped weakly at his chest. Read more
Rena crouched behind the row of garden bushes which lined Faril’s quarters, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She hardly noticed the chill which had entered her bones, nor the painful cramping in her arms and legs Read more
Shey peered mistrustfully around the room. A single stool sat in the middle, and the entire room was an indistinct colour which may have been white. No windows, one door. she was to stay here until Faegun, the First Spirit, revealed to her – and to all those waiting outside – the colour of her soul. Read more