Say hello to fellow Sci Fi writer Kelsey Stone. I started talking to her when she called out for people to contribute short stories to her blog. I submitted Eternal Darkness short piece which I can remember cause a little stir. Most of you wanting the story to continue.
I wanted to return the favour, so Kelsey wrote something especially for this post, and just like my short piece I think this needs to be carried on. Read more about Kelsey and how to follow / contact her at the end of the post.
You’ll want to sit back read this… it’s good one!
The Eternity Sequence
The wormhole collapsed unexpectedly. It wasn’t without warning, but like all bureaucratically maintained forms of transport, the warning signs had been overlooked until disaster struck. There had been three ships in transit, and over 2,500 people died. We assume they died, at least. No one knows what happens when a wormhole collapses. Human scientists maintain that the radiation created in a destabilized wormhole would kill instantly. The Cryad scientists insist that the ships would be thrown to a random location in space, forever exiled. I’m not sure which is worse.
Perhaps it is those of us trying to navigate the aftermath who will suffer the most. My prison cell does not consist of bars and brick, but of glass and steel. I lean my head against a wall, allowing the chilliness of the metal to seep into me. Ravia, the Cryad planet, is a hot, humid swamp, much like Earth was said to be during the Carboniferous Period. Sweat trickles down my back, and my clothes cling to my body.
Nare enters, and my stomach plummets. He indicates my cot with one smooth finger. Cryads only have three fingers on each hand, each incredibly long and slightly webbed at the base. I stare at the sharp curve of the claws at the end. Pain simmers along the cuts that run down my arm. Yesterday I fought him. Today I settle onto the cot, my heart in my throat.
Those three fingers turn palm up in a gallant gesture. I can’t breathe. Shakily, I place my arm in his hand. His skin is a deep purple, like the eggplants my mother loved to grow. This is the worst part. He places a sticky square patch on the inside of my elbow, over one of my veins. Two thin tubes dangle from the patch, and he plugs those into the small box he wheeled in when he entered. One of his purple fingers hovers over a button on the box. No, no, no.
He presses the button and pain surges through me, setting me on fire, eating at me. The small cell swirls, a tornado of implacable gray. My eyes roll back and my body trembles.
“Please.” My voice sounds strangled.
I feel Nare’s cool skin against mine as he pulls me into him. He cradles me as a lover might, but it is not me he lusts after.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. The words sound thick, his mouth poorly made for English.
I want to tell him to go to hell. The words are stuck in my throat. A scream half forms, but my agony overwhelms it, and my head falls back against his arm. He traces a caress over my face, a gesture meant to soothe, but it grates on my already haywire nerves and pain echoes from his touch.
Five hundred years ago, when the Cryads created the wormhole and jumped into our system, life changed drastically. We formed a quick friendship with the aliens, eager to glean their knowledge and technological advances. It wasn’t long before a team of scientists discovered what they called the Eternity Sequence. Inside the human genome lays the secret to Cryad longevity. That is why he needs my blood.
The device I’m hooked to pumps a chemical into my system that causes the rapid production of blood cells. It’s the chemical that burns through me in excruciating waves.
When at last the box clicks off, I am nearly delirious. Images circle in my mind, fragmented and disjointed. My daughter with her blonde hair. I can hear the sweet notes of her laughter. The strong, soft touch of my husband’s lips. The moon, full and intoxicating, on a summer’s eve.
A sob breaks loose, and I pull myself into a ball, hiding my tears against my knees. Nare runs his long fingers through my hair. He likes the feel of it and his claws tangle in my curls.
“I have good news.” He drops the g and d on good, and it takes me a moment to figure out what he said.
I look up at him, hopeful that he will tell me they have found a way to create a new wormhole. He doesn’t have eyes. Instead, he navigates the world through sound, touch, and smell. My gaze settles on the sharp ridges of teeth in his mouth.
“You will not have your blood drawn for a while.”
“Did you find a way to create a new wormhole to Earth?”
I was only supposed to be here for six months, as part of my mandatory duty to the United Nations. Each citizen made the journey once in their life and spent half a year on Ravia. Blood was drawn slowly over that time, without the need for the hellish stimulating chemical. Not any longer.
“No,” he says, and his fingers inadvertently pull at my hair. “You have been selected for breeding.”
My mind rejects the crude form of his words, refusing at first to make sense of their muddled pronunciation. Eventually, though, the missing consonants click into place and my body turns icy. Behind Nare, the door opens, and another Cryad enters with a man in tow. He is tall and rough, with wild eyes and a shadow creeping across his face. There is fear in his gaze at first, and then hunger, and I realize that this is not a prison. This is hell.
Kelsey Stone , also known as @scifistone on Twitter and Instagram, is an aspiring author and current Master’s of Fine Arts in Fiction candidate. Her latest project, a science fiction book titled Sabiak’s Creed, is currently being reviewed by several agents.
Check out what she has to say about writing and peruse her short stories on her website,
www.tibetanlemon.com or connect with her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/scifisto
I hope you enjoyed this – go and see what else Kelsey is up to!