Why not kick of my career as a blogger with a story? I'll start with last week's story, called Camp Mariana. Like most of the stories that I will be posting on here, this one was written in less than a week, and thus is pretty rough around the edges (and, admittedly, everything in between). Also, as with any of my stories I post, I am open to any comments and/or criticism from anyone reading.
Camp Mariana was inspired by the fantastic Canon in J.
“Plo! Come, darling, I know you're tired but –”
He stopped talking as he got close enough to the bed to see that the child was already awake, pale arms hugging the blankets around her in the cold. Huge, round eyes followed him as he sat down on the foot of the bed. He hoped it was too dark for them to read his face. Had she heard? Did she know everything already? Had she woken up, sensing the importance of this night?
Or did she always sit awake like this, unable to sleep?
“There isn't much time, darling.” He kept his voice smooth and level.“You're going to have to come with me tonight, Plo.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and she pulled the blankets tighter around her.
“I know how scary this is for you, darling, but it's the safest plan Momma and I could come up with.”
Her eyes glowed huge and empty in the dark.
“Things aren't safe here anymore, Plo, especially for you.”
He ran a hand through his thick blond mustache.
“You're going to go to a place where there are other people like you, other people who needed to leave their homes. It will be safer there. You won't be so alone. You'll be happier, Plo...”
Gods, she was so small, so young... but surely there was no sense in waiting? No, things were only going to get more dangerous. And besides, she was old enough. That's what they'd decided, wasn't it?
“Will there be other kids there?” Her voice was soft, but not nearly as hollow as he had expected it to be.
“Well, I... I don't...” He grinned. “You know, I believe there will. Yes, there will be lots of other children there.”
Her grip on the blanket loosened, and something like excitement appeared on her face. Well, it probably wasn't really a lie – and if it made her happy, what was the harm? For all he knew, the camp could be teeming with children... then again, for all he knew it could be nonexistent...
To read the rest, click here.
I can definitely hear the microtonal weirdness of Canon in J when they are descending to the ocean floor, unconscious, bouncing off each other and tugging against the tether which binds them. marvellous.
ReplyDeletethankee!
ReplyDeleteTo say good bye to the sky... How can one do that? The Canon in J (the Bohlen–Pierce scale) has that feeling, adrift from the horizon of the familiar. As dystopic as the premise is, there is a thread of optimism.
ReplyDelete