Prompt: I will remember you

Frank knew he was dying. The biosuit was still doing its job, protecting him from the acrylamide atmosphere, recycling his fluids and stabilizing his body temp. It couldn’t do anything about the lack of feeling in his legs. Or movement. Or the console that crushed his hips and legs.

He heard Bhiteri’s chittered greeting, rasping in his ear and behind his sinuses as the four-foot arthropod slid into the ruined cockpit. The acrylamide didn’t affect his chitinous plates or feathery antennae. Frank tapped his fingers against the console in IMC, the patterns so similar to the American Standard Morse Code he had learned as a boy. Still here.

Bhiteri’s feet scratched the smooth wall, now the floor under Frank. He wound around the console and pulled a makeshift leaf pouch full of cave water. Frank closed his eyes, irritated at his momentary squeamishness over the silk Bhiteri used to seal the water. If it weren’t for the Bug—and Frank used the derogatory word with full awareness of the irony—he would have died at least four times by now. Maybe five. All the Bug’s effort would be for nought if Frank died before the cavalry arrived. Frank tapped TX as Bhiteri held the water pouch to his lips.

When Bhiteri rested the empty pouch on the floor, he curled up, outlining Frank’s torso and leaning his head against the console so they could see each other in the dim light. He drummed his feet in a soothing pattern for awhile, and Frank dozed. When he woke, he could see this godforsaken planet’s second moon reflected in Bhiteri’s eyes.

The Bug tapped slowly. I can save you.

Frank’s brows knit together. What was the Bug talking about? He’d tried to move the console, but it was much too heavy, even with a lever. It had been nine days, and Frank knew his time was running out. The rescue team would likely only have one to take home. No. You tried. It’s OK.

Bhiteri looked away, then back at Frank. Among my people, when the body dies, the nahl lives on. In another.

Nahl? What was that? Oh. Soul? Spirit? Frank asked. Um…inner self? Mind?

Self. Bhiteri agreed. I can save your self.

Now Frank’s eyebrows arched up, and he could feel his dehydrated forehead wrinkling. Funny how sensitive every movement becomes.

How? He tapped, studying what Bhiteri had said. How can my self live on? In you?

Bhiteri chittered for a moment, as if forgetting, then he tapped. Yes. I will remember you.

Remember? I know you will. This wasn’t something the Bug was likely to forget. But that’s not the same thing. Frank closed his eyes, feeling a rush of disappointment that surprised him. He wasn’t religious. Didn’t believe in an afterlife. Did he believe in a soul? How could his soul live in Bhiteri? What the hell…

How? He tapped again. He must have dozed off. There was no moonlight on the Bug’s face now.

Bhiteri chittered once more, then stopped. I do not know the words. My people call it the nahl-kupa. It is common to remember family. Sometimes friends. We take the name of each nahl as our own.

You have done this? Frank asked. He’d never heard of this nahl-kupa. Was Bhiteri letting him in on some big Bug secret because he was dying and couldn’t reveal it anyway?

Bhiteri nodded with a chitter that sounded distinctly amused. Oh yes. Many times.

Frank’s eyes narrowed. And you carry all the names? What are they?

Bhiteri straightened and tapped as he chittered slowly and distinctly. I am Almada Ghodew Hishap Kawnte Jorhsi Dunlesh Xaintap Bhiteri.

Frank thought about those names for awhile. All those people? Those selves? In Bhiteri?

And you remember all those people?

As you remember your own life.

Frank’s eyes closed, too heavy to hold open. His head rolled to the side. His mouth was dry, and he tried to make some spit to swallow. The biosuit had nothing more for him.

He’d thought he had made peace with dying out here. Away from Earth. Alone. But given the chance, he didn’t want to. He thought he was nodding his head. When Bhiteri didn’t answer, he tapped out slowly. Y…e…s…

Bhiteri stood on the ruins of the pod and watched the rescue ship descend through the yellow atmosphere. It reminded him of the mining ships landing on Mars, and he chittered at the new memory. As the ship’s thrusters burned the acrylamide atmosphere, he chittered a greeting, and a farewell, “I am Franklin Almada Ghodew Hishap Kawnte Jorhsi Dunlesh Xaintap Bhiteri. I will remember you…”

#

And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Dogs in House	Houdini, Brindle
Music Playing	Sarah McLachlan, “I Will Remember You”
Time writing	30 minutes
November word count	4,938

Prompt: Who does the sentinel guard? Take 2

Thanks to SergeyMusin for permission to use his powerful “Deadly Shadow At Necropolis”!

Note: I started this story from one of the young "dorlen" boy's POV a few days ago, but it wasn't really working for me. I decided to let this one percolate for a bit, and thought I'd try writing from the sentinel's POV instead. What do you think? 

My steps were the only sound echoing off the moonlit walls as I followed my endless path through the city’s streets. When I reached the square, I would stand sentinel in the moonlight and recharge the jooln that ran red through my channels and fed my my central power source. I felt no fatigue in this body, but my sensors reported power was below optimal, and the full moon would provide plenty of light.

Once stationed in the square, I leaned against my staff and felt the thrum of power as it, too soaked in the moonlight. The jooln began to pulse throughout my body, and I almost remembered sensations of long ago, when I was alive. In my mind, I reached out for the memories, but they disappeared like smoke before the barrel of my forearm.

A scuff, then silence. I didn’t need to move to expand my senses, seeking the intruder. Likely some desert kaptil had wandered too far afield, and an auditory shrill would send it scurrying on six legs back into the silent sands. I scanned the area with night vision and found three dorlens crouching on the steps of the far building, hiding behind a line of power cells. I frowned. Did the fools think they would be safe there?

As I started toward them, clouds filled the sky, dimming the moonlight. I heard the first sounds of movement and knew I had little time. I raced toward the hidden trio and leaped up the steps, just as I sensed the others approaching. Sweeping my staff in an arc before them, I pulled up long-forgotten speech. “You dare? Noone enters the Necropolis. You know the penalty?”

The tallest dorlen moved in front of the other two. My sensors showed his fear, but he stood tall, reaching his empty hands toward me. “Please…please let my brothers go. I will pay the penalty—”

“Jarron, no!” one of the other dorlens shouted.

I frowned. Brothers? Memories…

I straightened and struck the step with my staff. Turning from them, I ground out, “Stay. Close. I lead. Out.” They did not follow when I started down the steps, and I stopped, turning back to them. I felt the smile on my face, but I knew it did not look like it once did. Speech came faster now. “Do you think I guard those who live here? Sentinels protect the living. Come.”

I turned and continued down the steps. It was up to them to follow me, or die…

To be continued?

#

And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Dogs in House	Houdini
Time writing	~45 minutes
October word count	1,328

Prompt: We’re not speaking the same language

Thanks to all who entered my drawing for a free copy of Faith Hunter’s upcoming release, Broken Soul. I’ve been in touch with the winner already. If you haven’t heard from me, you still have opportunities to win on another one of Faith’s blog tour stops—good luck! And get ready to enjoy Jane Yellowrock again on Oct 7^th!

#

Jillie sat with her back to the big “oak” tree and dropped her forehead against her knees. It wasn’t an oak, of course, but Jillie had started to use Earth names for things here, partly for some small familiar comfort, and partly to keep herself sane.

She heard steps and breathed in without lifting her head. The scent of rose and ash. Even though there were no roses here. Everyone here had a unique scent. The steps stopped in front of her, and hard-soled feet scuffed the dirt. Jillie sighed and lifted her head, careful to cover her teeth with her lips. “Hi Rose.”

“Set day not been change mill more, Jillie?” Rose folded her double-jointed knees and sat gracefully in front of Jillie. Her long, slender, furred arms reached out, and she began grooming Jillie’s forearms, even though they were clean. Jillie closed her eyes and schooled herself not to pull away. Rose would be sad, and Jillie had few enough friends here.

She pondered Rose’s words. The translator provided plenty of vocabulary, but it simply couldn’t make any sense of their grammatical structure or context. Set day not been change mill more… She smiled and quickly covered her teeth, even though Rose was looking down at her wrists, gently brushing her dewclaw over Jillie’s skin in a soothing pattern of endless grooming.

Jillie lifted her hand to her mouth, and Rose’s eyes followed. “Time to make food? Eat?” Jillie mimed moving food into her mouth with her fingers and chewing.

Rose nodded and stood, reaching slender fingers down to pull Jillie up next to her. “Set day not been change mill more.” She continued, “Any use log remember call link place under your else share open into wall,” as they headed back to the circle of grass huts where Rose’s people had sheltered Jillie for the past three years. Earth years, according to Jillie’s few pieces of surviving equipment. Three years alone with sentient giraffes who spoke nothing but gibberish…

#

And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Dogs in House	Houdini, Brindle
Music Playing	Book of Mormon soundtrack
Time writing	~20 minutes
October word count	370

Prompt: This Stone Longs to Speak

The words sit heavy on my tongue

How do you know 

stones have no tongue?

Have you looked inside?

You probably think 

I have no soul

No heart

No tears

No laughter

The words sit heavy on my tongue

I love you

You hurt me

I want to be with you

I want to be alone

I’m sorry

I wish

I could say the words

I wish you could hear them

The words sit heavy on my tongue

Right behind the teeth 

I don’t have

In the mouth 

you don’t notice

Wet with tears

I don’t cry

I want to dance

I want to fly

I want to feel your arms round me

I want to watch the stars cross the sky

Dogs in House	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	20 minutes
July word count	9,667

Prompt: The loneliest whale in the world

He rested at the surface of the water, slow breaths blowing a spout as waves washed over his back, covering his blowhole and slapping gently against his dorsal ridge. Each wave was different, warm or chill, as the sun vied with the ocean depths for primacy. A few birds swooped in the air, and some floated around him, hoping he would dive down and bring fish to them in his great ring bubbles. He could hear their shrill cries above the water. They never answered his song. No one did. None of his kind.

How long had he swum in the great oceans? How far had he travelled? How many times had he tilted down toward the deep and sung his song? Why did no one answer? Why was he all alone? His great wings drooped, and he moaned a long, lonely note. The birds wheeled and cried above him, but no one answered.

Note:

I’d like to work on this story, about the “52 Herz Whale”, but I’m not sure where to take the story yet. We’ll see if I return. Do you hear lonely whale song and crying seagulls (well, fulmars and shearwaters, but he wouldn’t call them that) in the intro above?

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Music	Paul Winter, whale song
Time writing	20 minutes, plus about 45 mins research
June word count	5,911

Prompt: Reluctant Mind Reader

Jarram sat cross-legged beside the throne, the queen’s hand resting on his fool’s cap. He never looked up at her or spoke. She felt the slightest nod of his head, up and down, or side to side. She never acknowledged his, his presence, his counsel. But he knew. He saw her decisions, choices, actions.

He’d been there so long, some might think he didn’t remember. Some might wonder why her fool was always present. He knew. He remembered.

“Jarram?” The beautiful woman on the throne leaned forward and motioned with her fingers. His grandmother pushed him toward the throne. He clutched her hand, but she tugged it away and touched his chin, encouraging him without words to be brave and strong.

He climbed up the steps and stood in front of the throne. The woman leaned down to look him in the eyes. “You have a special gift, don’t you, Jarram? I’d like you to share that gift with me.”

He frowned and started to turn back to his grandmother. Then he remembered what she had said about this woman, this queen, and he stood as tall he could, facing her. “Why?”

She laughed once and leaned back in the chair. “Because I asked you to. You never need another reason. But if you do, here is a very important one I want you to always remember.”

She leaned forward and gripped his shoulder, spinning him around. A soldier stepped behind his grandmother and thrust his short sword through her back, until the blade shone and glinted red in front of her. She kept her eyes on Jarram and made no sound as she fell. The soldier pulled out his blade and wiped it on her cloak before sheathing it and stepping away.

“If you need another reason, Jarram,” the queen said in his ear, “my soldiers can go back to your village and bring all of your family here.”

He shook his head side to side, hating her more than anything he could imagine. It kept the grief at bay.

Her hand on his shoulder turned him around. “Clever boy. Now, come and sit beside me. We have work to do.”

Jarram sat cross-legged on the stone floor beside her. He watched the people walking toward them. As they came closer, he dropped his head forward, listening to their thoughts. She rested her hand on his head…

Dogs in House	Brindle
Time writing	15 minutes
April word count	12,467

Prompt: Drawing spirals in water

 Thanks as always to Artur Rosa for his magical “Drawing spirals in water”!

I can’t fly…not like her anyway. I mean, look at her! She has such perfect form, such control. That’s one of her favorites, that spiral. She does it over water, sand, even on the back of a sleeping elephant once. Now *that* was something, let me tell you. She’s like an ice skater spinning faster, then slower, her hand trailing down, drawing those spirals, her legs sliding smoothly back and forth, her body perfectly parallel to the ground.

I can only do a kind of breaststroke, and most of the time, I can’t get very high off the ground. Never when anyone’s watching. I get too nervous, and then my legs get so heavy and fall down until I am touching the ground. Then I stumble, and fall. I always wish I could curl up into a ball and disappear. But Nicholas is the only one I know who can do that.

But I always try to follow Briana when I see her taking off. I mean, sometimes I can’t keep up, or follow where she’s going. But when I can, I love to float along behind her and watch her perform. Just for herself. For joy. For love of the air. For the barest touch of water or earth on her fingertips.

Sometimes, and I really don’t understand why, I can go higher. Higher even than the trees. Once I caught a thermal, almost by accident. I had gotten up pretty high and was flying along a powerline right of way when I started sinking. So I dropped onto one of those big metal towers and grabbed on. When you stop flying and are up high, like in a tree, falling is even scarier, because you didn’t climb *up* and it’s usually farther down. Anyway, this time, I made a perfect catch with my elbow around a strut and landed balanced on the beam below. I swung around and whooped and scared a hawk that was probably looking for rodents down below. I laughed at the dirty look he gave me as he flapped away. Squatting down, I flapped my arms up and down like he did, trying to imagine what flying that way really felt like. I could never make it work. I still had my eyes closed, and I felt the warm air rising up around me, and I don’t know why, I pushed up like a frog, and then I was in the air, and flapping big strokes up and down, and the warm air was rushing around me, and I was spinning…

But then I opened my eyes and saw what I was doing and freaked out because I was really by god flying like a bird, higher than I ever had flown before, and I was so high the tower looked far below me. And I fell. Broke my collarbone and my thigh and was in the infirmary for like two months going out of my mind.

Briana came and read to me. She just showed up one day, through the open window, and pulled up a chair and settled in and started reading Starship Troopers, and I didn’t have the heart to tell I her I hated it. Alien bugs attacking? Ugh. But she finished that in a few days and then she brought Childhood’s End, and I was hooked.

She came in through the window every day. Sometimes I was sleeping, and I’d wake up, and she’d be there, reading. When she saw I was awake, she’d flip back to where she’d left off and read it again, out loud. We never really talked, even about the books. And I never remember her leaving. Just waiting for her to come in the window.

When they took off the leg cast, my thigh was all white and wrinkly, and so weak I wondered if I’d ever be able to push up into the air again. That night, Briana came in through the window and sat on my bed, just sat there, until I woke up. “It’s not about strength,” she said, resting her hand flat on my leg. “Come on.”

She took my hands and helped me stand. I could still barely put any weight on my leg, and she ulled my arm over her shoulder and helped me to the window. She helped me sit on the ledge and get turned around, so my legs were dangling out the window. With a grin, she climbed out the next window and then appeared in the air in front of me, just hovering. I could never do that, either. She held out her hands.

“Do you trust me?”

I didn't say anything. Didn't take my eyes off hers. I just put my hands in hers and leaned forward….

Dogs in House	Houdini, Brindle
Music	George Winston, Winter Into Spring 20th Anniversary Edition
Time writing	20 minutes (yes, it poured out)
April word count	6,727