I – The Magician

The first time I jump, I fall into darkness. Then I wake up. The ground is hard, but I don’t feel bruised, so I don’t know how I got there. It is dark, but off in the distance, I see a bright light. I feel the dirt below me and hear drips. I stand, shaky, and test out my legs. I feel young and alive. I walk toward the light, letting my eyes adjust, but when I exit, it is still a shock. The sun is overhead, but seems to be all around, and yet somewhat filtered by tall trees, both hardwoods and evergreens. When I turn around, the cave is gone, just the edge of a mountain rising behind me, and no door or other entrance. But I’m used to that by now, and suddenly, I want to do something.

All this time I have been following, being guided, but now it’s time for me to act, not merely react. Even though I don’t know where I am, I see a clearing in the distance and head that way. The clearing is unusual because there is a table in the middle, but no one around. On the table are various tools I have never seen before. A shining brass plate inscribed with leaves. A silver chalice filled with some kind of sparkling liquid. Along the top edge lies a curved sword. And right in front of me a golden stick with two gems, one on each end. I pick it up.

I like the heft of it in my hand. One end is blue and the other red, but as I watch, the colors swirl and change. Yes. I can do something with this. I can make something. But first, I need to stake my claim on this place, so I set it down again, and pick up the sword. With the sword, I draw a circle in the dirt around the table, and then a star. I don’t remember my name, but I know I came from the stars, so I make it my signature.

I want to create life, a plant, a tree to grow in this clearing long after I am gone. One that will greet anyone else who comes out of that cave. Back at the table, or perhaps altar is a better word, I pick up the wand with the glowing tips. I raise it to the sky, pointing the other end down toward the brass plate. I feel the sunlight hit the tip of the wand. It is warm and electric, and I almost drop it, but I’m so excited about the plant that I manage to hold on to it. It gets hotter, almost too hot.   I stand firm, and as I watch, the lower gem turns bright emerald green. A stream of life bursts forth, bursting off the brass plate, blinding me. I close my eyes against the brightness, but keep my hand grasped firmly around the wand. It shudders for a moment, but then, it steadies and cools.  The painful light outside my eyelids recedes into delicious coolness.

When I open my eyes, I see a tiny hawthorn sapling sitting on the brass plate. I point the wand at an area of dirt near the altar, and watch as a hole appears, just large enough for the sapling. I set the wand down, and plant the sapling in the hole, covering it with dirt. I look back at the altar. Something seems incomplete and I realize that I have used all the tools except the cup. I take a drink from the cup — pure fresh water that is somehow magical. But as I move away from the altar, the altar begins to shimmer. It is translucent; I can see the grass and dirt through it, and soon, it has disappeared. I am left holding only the cup.

I pour the rest of the water over the hawthorn. In just seconds it begins to grow, growing and spreading until it is fully grown. In the distance, I hear a dog barking, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a glint of silver from the chalice. I rest beside the hawthorn a moment, but I know I cannot stay.

It is time for the next adventure.

The End.

0 – The Fool

I remember that day perfectly: the sun shining so bright that I kept my head down, the scent of the flowers so overpowering that every breath was a mouthful of perfume. I was taking a walk through the meadow singing to myself when I realized I had no idea where I was. The landscape in all directions was the same flat flowered field. Like my life of sixteen years: all the same, no adventure. As I looked to see any sign of the way back, I heard a dog bark. It was a short playful bark, and as soon as I identified its direction, I saw a path form in the grasses.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I was curious; I didn’t really want to go back home yet. The day was still young, and I wanted to explore. I wanted to meet the dog. I took one look, then started along the path. Mother wouldn’t miss me for several hours anyway. After some time I could still hear the dog ahead of me and the sun was still in the upper East. How was that possible? But I was curious, so I continued.

I became alarmed when the grass grew. I wanted to go home. It felt like I’d been walking forever. Grasshoppers hopped from the top of the blades, which were now shoulder height. And then, I looked behind. Big mistake. A wall of grass—so high I couldn’t see past it—blocked the way back. I tried to push through it, but it was too thick and dense. There was only one way to go: forward. So I walked on and eventually the grasses gave way to rocks, and along with the dog, I now heard the sound of waves crashing.

The path ended. I stood at the top of a cliff looking down to a tumultuous sea below. Mountains rose to either side of me. Home was gone. From a cave in the mountains, a small spotted black and white dog came running. He barked and jumped at me, and ran up to the edge of the cliff and made circles, chasing his tail. Then he looked up at me expectantly, joyfully wagging his tail. I looked over the edge at the sea, and suddenly the dog hurtled off the cliff. My heart froze in horror, but the dog shimmered in the air and disappeared.

I had to know what happened. So, I leapt.

The unknown became home, and the dog was always ahead of me.

The End.

This one also happens to be featured in It Happened in a Flash: An Anthology of 64 Bite-Sized Stories. The anthology is free as an e-book, so be sure to check it out!

Welcome back to the next Storytime Blog Hop!

Interstellar Student Exchange

No, no, no, no, no, he thought and ran faster. They have her. They can’t have her. He felt the rasp of breath in his throat and the painful twinge in his side, but he had to get to the clearing. Everything was wrong. How had he not seen? Lured away with a promise of an exchange for money when they didn’t even want money. They just wanted her. He would have given them everything to get her back safely, but when he got to the exchange site, there was no one there, just a message that he was too late.

Then, he’d started running, and now, he could hear the sound of the rocket. He had to get there before they left, before they took her for who-knew-what experiments. His daughter, his little girl, even if she was sixteen now. What was the phrase? You’ll always be my baby? Yeah.

So he ran, but he didn’t know if he could make it. Already, the breaths were coming too short and his legs felt like rubber. But he made it. He made it to the clearing. The rocket was still there, it hadn’t left yet. There was still hope. He ran up to it, pounding on the sides even as he felt it begin to shudder. He didn’t know how it was powered, didn’t know if he would burn to death in an explosion like Earth-rockets. He pounded at the doors, and one of them opened.

“Alright, get in,” ordered one of Them.

“No, I want my daughter. She doesn’t need to–”

“Daddy?”

Alexis was sitting calmly, her arms entwined with one of Them. Oh, no.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“To bring you home!” he realized he was screaming as his words echoed off the walls of the chamber. “They abducted you, they are going to do horrible things to you. Come home!”

Two of Them blocked his view, then parted so he could see her better. She was sitting with one of Them, its arm, a tentacle, around her shoulder, looking oddly comfortable against the gleaming wall.

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I agreed to go. It will be like a study abroad. Lots of teens are doing it these days.”

“ABROAD?” he thundered. “Abroad is Italy or Spain or heck, maybe Africa. And so what if lots of teens are doing it. If they–”

“Jumped off a cliff? Look. I signed their contract thingy. It says no harm will come to me as long as I obey their orders. And it’s just for a few days unless . . .”

“Let’s relieve him of his anxiety,” the one he hated most said, the one with its tentacle wrapped around her shoulders.

“Okay,” she said, smiling, standing up and weaving her arm around Its. “April Fools!”

Arm linked with Its, she pushed past him getting off the shuttle.

One of the others looked at him sharply before he could follow his daughter. “You will keep my boy safe,” It commanded. “He is here on a student exchange. We will be back.”

He turned back to see his daughter still waiting, arm interlinked with the alien’s. “Well? Aren’t you going to invite him to dinner?”  She didn’t wait for an answer, as she started back down the path to their house.

The End

Continue on to the next story here: The Ghost Fighter, by Bill Bush

List of All Stories:

1. A Snow White Morning, by Katharina Gerlach
2. The Letter, by Juneta Key
3. Trick or Treacle, by Angela Wooldridge
4. Sugar in the Raw, by Karen Lynn
5. Inferno, by Fanni Soto
6. Tae, by Barbara Lund
7. This story:  Interstellar Student Exchange
8. The Ghost Fighter, by Bill Bush
9. Hare, by Elizabeth McCleary
10. The Widow, by Vanessa Wells

I hope you enjoy this spring’s stories!  Come see us again in July!

The Rose Tender
by Raven O’Fiernan

Lord Sirio looked over his landscape to make sure everything was as it should be. He was hosting his daughter’s coming out gala in a fortnight, and it was essential that nothing be out of place. He turned his gaze to the south, where a row of poplar trees grew, creating a natural fence and backdrop. Then he looked back at the design of Fortunato’s line of trees. No, as he suspected, the trees were not right. They were too tall and skinny, and there were too many of them. He’d only planted the twelve indicated on the garden plans, but there were, he counted, nineteen now. Some of them must have put up shoots in the early days. He’d told the gardener to uproot them, but apparently the man hadn’t gotten them all. That was the problem with having an ordinary gardener instead of a Botanist. A Botanist could have used magic to make the change at any time, but now, if the gardener removed any trees, it would leave unsightly empty gaps. But after his brother had bankrupted the family coffers, Sirio could not afford to hire a Botanist, so he had to make do with the gardener. He hoped the other nobles wouldn’t notice the differences.

The line of trees wasn’t the only area of concern. To the east was the rose garden, patterned after Lady Emilia’s exquisite garden. It wasn’t quite right even from the beginning because some of the varieties of roses had been impossible to find, so he’d had to settle for similar varieties. It was a disappointment, especially since the new varieties didn’t bloom at the same time as the originals, and some of the roses, whether new or original, were susceptible to bugs. Some were even dying and the gardener said he didn’t know if he could save them. The man said that certainly a Botanist could cure them, but not a common gardener.

At least in the north and west, Sirio had obtained a measure of success. The south was an orchard of peach and pear trees. Those at least were perfect, exactly as the late Lord Francesco had recommended. And the west was empty — just rocks and sculptures reminiscent of the poet Gregor’s collection. It was all ready for the gala.

He sighed, looking again at the line of trees in the south and the imperfect rose garden where the gardener was weeding. It would have to do. If Rochesa was going to get married, it had to be as good as possible, and he’d invited all the eligible men in the realm. If they weren’t impressed, if they saw the imperfections, it could affect her happiness, and that wouldn’t do.

He called her out: the gala was two weeks away, so they still had time.

“Yes, father?” she asked.

Sirio frowned at her. Her hair was too light to match the painting he had bought of the Black-Haired-Irina, and her eyes were blue instead of black. He’d tried to make her into the old beauty, but nothing seemed to take.

“Go to town. Go see the magician,” he told her, handing her some coins, hoping it would be enough. “Ask again about the hair. And the eyes.”

“Yes, Father,” she said and left.

A palpable emptiness spread over him. Something was wrong. Was it the trees? He looked again at the poplars and back to the design. He’d talk to the gardener. Maybe there was still something to be done. Maybe the man knew a Botanist that would be affordable.

As he turned to the south to approach the gardener, he saw that his daughter had not followed his instructions. She was bent over the roses with the gardener, who had his hand at the small of her back. As he watched, she reached out a hand, and one of the dying roses suddenly bloomed, fresh and new. She clapped her hands and let out a gale of laughter as the gardener spun her around.

But what Lord Sirio wanted to know was: when had his daughter become a Botanist?

The End

Thanks for reading!  Please check out the other stories in this July’s Storytime Blog Hop:

The Last Sleeping Beauty by Tamara Ruth

Freeman by Elizabeth McCleary

Hell’s Play by Juneta Key

The Token by Eli Winfield

Moshe 4th by Chris Makowski

To The Moon And Beyond, by Fanni Sütő

Surprise by Katharina Gerlach

In A Picture by Erica Damon

The Past Tastes Better by Karen Lynn

Revealing Space by Barbara Lund