The serpent coiled his body tightly then lifted his head up into the air. His gaze tipped his nose down to the egg, which wobbled and shivered. His tongue flicked out, tasting the air, the yearning that seeped from the slowly growing cracks appearing in the surface of the shell. He lowered his body around and surrounded the egg as bits and pieces flecked away, chipping and falling onto his scales.
A small hand pushed out of the shell, fingers spread wide, grasping and searching. The serpent lowered his nose to the palm, hissing as the tiny fingers curled around it. The top of the shell shattered. He gazed at a small, girl child. Her hair was blonde in front of her soft, sculpted ears, and behind them it was a fertile brown. Her left eye was gold, and the right eye a clear, cobalt blue.
She reached up with her other hand, placing it next to her first on the serpent's snout. Her dual eyes blinked, curiosity making them open wider, as if to see more or see more clearly.
The serpent hissed.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
An Origin
A serpent slithered through the tall grass. He was eight feet long, though had for the majority of his life been long enough to surround the land, some claim chasing his tail. His scales shimmered, reflecting light as water might when viewed from below the surface. Each scale was a slightly different tint of either white or blue, and his unblinking eyes gleamed like polished gold. In front of his triangular head was an egg, the shell a deep, earth brown with flecks that appeared as lightning. The snake flicked his head upward, and the egg rolled forward.
As it rolled out of the shade of night into the light of day, the serpent took a moment to rest. He hissed, coiling his body to lift himself into the air. It would only be a few minutes before the night would catch up, and he would move the egg into the day again. He had to keep it in the sunlight. He didn't know why he was so determined, no greater being tasked him with this. He had just found the egg, bigger than his head, wider than he was around, abandoned, quietly shivering in the night next to the great river.
He had been overcome. With what, he did not know. He had not slept, for seven days he had rolled this egg into the sunlight of day with the threat of the cold night constantly on the tip of his tail. When he started, he was miles long, and now he was only eight feet. He had not eaten, except for what had tried to steal the egg from his protection. He nestled his head next to the egg, and could feel the vibrations of life within it. It would not be long now.
The serpent lifted his head and rolled the egg forward. The sunlight made the flecks of gold within the shell glisten. He felt the vibrations of movement through the ground, and slithered out of the night.
As it rolled out of the shade of night into the light of day, the serpent took a moment to rest. He hissed, coiling his body to lift himself into the air. It would only be a few minutes before the night would catch up, and he would move the egg into the day again. He had to keep it in the sunlight. He didn't know why he was so determined, no greater being tasked him with this. He had just found the egg, bigger than his head, wider than he was around, abandoned, quietly shivering in the night next to the great river.
He had been overcome. With what, he did not know. He had not slept, for seven days he had rolled this egg into the sunlight of day with the threat of the cold night constantly on the tip of his tail. When he started, he was miles long, and now he was only eight feet. He had not eaten, except for what had tried to steal the egg from his protection. He nestled his head next to the egg, and could feel the vibrations of life within it. It would not be long now.
The serpent lifted his head and rolled the egg forward. The sunlight made the flecks of gold within the shell glisten. He felt the vibrations of movement through the ground, and slithered out of the night.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Crazy Dreams -> Inspiration
Leylia stared at her left hand, trying to decide what the hell it was she just saw. There was a small, brown dot at the joint between her thumb and first finger, not like a freckle or mole, more like a very, very flat scab, or a bruise. She decided it looked more like a bruise. Out of boredom, and a tick she had since she was in preschool, Leylia had squeezed that part of her hand. Out of the bruise-thing had popped what looked like a white caterpillar with a clamp like jaw. Freaking out, she had released and the worm had shot back into her hand.
It hadn't hurt. Leylia rubbed her fingers over the spot where she though the worm was but felt no bump of movement. It had been about the thickness of a pencil, so she would have to feel it moving. She thought she had seen dark purple markings on its back. Pursing her lips, she grabbed hold of her hand again and squeezed.
Out popped the caterpillar again. It spun around, wiggling all its legs, though rather than angrily Leylia couldn't help but think they were wiggling in fear and panic. Still, she squeezed harder, pushing more of the worm out. After an inch, there were no more legs, and when she turned her hand upside down and started to shake it back and forth while applying so much pressure it hurt, the worm popped out but latched onto her thumb with three little claws on its rear end.
"The hell are you?" Leylia asked as it swiveled around to look up at her with two, tiny purple eyes that she hadn't noticed before. She felt her stomach cringe, it was pretty gross, and there was now a trickle of blood coming out of the hole in her hand. It squeaked, pushing itself down so it became fatter.
Leylia saw that the markings on its back looked strangely like tiny wings. This had to do with that strange doctor she met last week. With a huff, Leylia dug through her bag for her tin of mints, dumped the three mints out, then held her thumb over the tin. The worm wiggled to look down, then looked back up at her.
"Look," she said, feeling crazier by the minute, "I don't know what you are, and so I'm going to find out. Get in there and I'll go as fast as I can."
The worm clicked its jaws together, then squeaked and pogo-hopped into the tin. Leylia blinked. Then, feeling guilty that she considered to snap the tin shut, left it slightly open, cradled it in her hand, and sprinted the rest of the way home. By the time she reached the doctor's house next to hers, she was only breathing marginally heavier. She looked down at the tin; the worm was peaking out at her from the space she had left open under the tin lid.
It hadn't hurt. Leylia rubbed her fingers over the spot where she though the worm was but felt no bump of movement. It had been about the thickness of a pencil, so she would have to feel it moving. She thought she had seen dark purple markings on its back. Pursing her lips, she grabbed hold of her hand again and squeezed.
Out popped the caterpillar again. It spun around, wiggling all its legs, though rather than angrily Leylia couldn't help but think they were wiggling in fear and panic. Still, she squeezed harder, pushing more of the worm out. After an inch, there were no more legs, and when she turned her hand upside down and started to shake it back and forth while applying so much pressure it hurt, the worm popped out but latched onto her thumb with three little claws on its rear end.
"The hell are you?" Leylia asked as it swiveled around to look up at her with two, tiny purple eyes that she hadn't noticed before. She felt her stomach cringe, it was pretty gross, and there was now a trickle of blood coming out of the hole in her hand. It squeaked, pushing itself down so it became fatter.
Leylia saw that the markings on its back looked strangely like tiny wings. This had to do with that strange doctor she met last week. With a huff, Leylia dug through her bag for her tin of mints, dumped the three mints out, then held her thumb over the tin. The worm wiggled to look down, then looked back up at her.
"Look," she said, feeling crazier by the minute, "I don't know what you are, and so I'm going to find out. Get in there and I'll go as fast as I can."
The worm clicked its jaws together, then squeaked and pogo-hopped into the tin. Leylia blinked. Then, feeling guilty that she considered to snap the tin shut, left it slightly open, cradled it in her hand, and sprinted the rest of the way home. By the time she reached the doctor's house next to hers, she was only breathing marginally heavier. She looked down at the tin; the worm was peaking out at her from the space she had left open under the tin lid.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Ziarre
Ziarre lifted herself from her crouch, her boot heels crunching back into the gravel and debris thrown by overhead cars. She stepped to the side as a crumpled cup soared out of a particularly expensive model, it had platinum plating around the ground thrusters. Not a moment later red and blue lights filled the area as a police issued droid car zoomed out of the building in front of her and shot into the sky after the offender. Ziarre simply smirked and with barely a push launched herself forward into a sprint.
Her dark colored hair, rather than being cut short like the rest of the woman from her society, was long and twisted up into a titanium plated hair clip that had several Annalaeyd emeralds set around the edges. The stick that shot through the two holes on the clip was also titanium plated, though it had a thin band of highly reactive flintament, an element that could be struck against any solid surface and produce a shower of sparks equivalent to grinding down a weld. Ziarre crouched, dove through the closing bay doors, and then landed on her hands before arching her back to place herself onto her feet.
Straightening, Ziarre tugged her tight cuffs back into alignment on her wrists and fluffed the flounced sleeves of her shirt. She made sure her vest was pulled straight before she sprinted down the launch tube that the droid cars were lined up in preparation to launch and catch criminals. On Earth in today's standards, that typically meant litterers. That was probably why Ziarre found little resistance as she entered the wide bay where dirty men worked on repairing droid cars, and most of the ceiling was taken up by parked "heavy artillery", basically SWAT vehicles with mounted turrets. Actual people used those, but Ziarre doubted they had been brought out of dock in the past twenty or so years. She lifted her hand and inhaled as she examined the layout of the room.
"Ziarre?" said a voice in her ear, soft and timid. There was a slight stutter on hard Z in her name. "How are you doing?"
"I am fine, Taban," she replied shortly. She paused, then added, "There has been no problems so far, just tell me where to go." She put on a pair of clear glasses, and immediately data flashed onto the broad lenses. In a moment the data formed itself into a blueprint layout of the police building she was currently infiltrating, before a red light blinked in a specific room.
The words Alain's Cell labeled it as her target.
Her dark colored hair, rather than being cut short like the rest of the woman from her society, was long and twisted up into a titanium plated hair clip that had several Annalaeyd emeralds set around the edges. The stick that shot through the two holes on the clip was also titanium plated, though it had a thin band of highly reactive flintament, an element that could be struck against any solid surface and produce a shower of sparks equivalent to grinding down a weld. Ziarre crouched, dove through the closing bay doors, and then landed on her hands before arching her back to place herself onto her feet.
Straightening, Ziarre tugged her tight cuffs back into alignment on her wrists and fluffed the flounced sleeves of her shirt. She made sure her vest was pulled straight before she sprinted down the launch tube that the droid cars were lined up in preparation to launch and catch criminals. On Earth in today's standards, that typically meant litterers. That was probably why Ziarre found little resistance as she entered the wide bay where dirty men worked on repairing droid cars, and most of the ceiling was taken up by parked "heavy artillery", basically SWAT vehicles with mounted turrets. Actual people used those, but Ziarre doubted they had been brought out of dock in the past twenty or so years. She lifted her hand and inhaled as she examined the layout of the room.
"Ziarre?" said a voice in her ear, soft and timid. There was a slight stutter on hard Z in her name. "How are you doing?"
"I am fine, Taban," she replied shortly. She paused, then added, "There has been no problems so far, just tell me where to go." She put on a pair of clear glasses, and immediately data flashed onto the broad lenses. In a moment the data formed itself into a blueprint layout of the police building she was currently infiltrating, before a red light blinked in a specific room.
The words Alain's Cell labeled it as her target.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Deidre's World
Papa said I was his most precious creation. As soon as I woke up all I could hear were screams.
Pain. Suffering. Denial. Rage.
I would walk around and look in the tubes with figures. They don't look like me. They were missing pieces, or had extra pieces, or only part of pieces. Papa said I look like a little girl. But I have furry ears, and a tail, and spikes on my arms, and on my head that curl above me. Papa did not. Do little girls look like this?
Papa said I am a hunter. A killer.
What does kill mean?
Papa said the figures are my brothers and sisters. I don't like getting close because the screaming gets too loud. I'm scared of the room with my family.
The lights here are cold. Is there warm light somewhere? Papa is cold. His smiles are like stone. I want to see a smile like the machines when Papa leaves them on too long.
Papa said I need to eat food. It is gray, and feels weird. It isn't biteable. I cut my lips and tongue because I have longer teeth. Papa called them fangs. I liked the color of my inside liquid, Papa called it blood. It is so different than white and gray. I don't like the taste, and it hurts.
Blood. Kill. It's ugly. Papa is ugly and I cry a lot because I want him to smile. Tired machine smile. But he is like the floor deep in the home.
It is wet down there. Dark. Papa said to not go down there, but I wanted to. The screaming is dull down there.
I found something. He is bigger than me, with fur all over his body. He has four legs. His ears are like mine. His tail is like mine. He has a long mouth that has fangs like mine, but it pushes forward out of his face. His nails are longer, and sharper than mine, but my fingers are longer than his. I can bend mine and grab with them. He has spikes on his head. He says they are called horns and his name is Cainus.
He says Papa broke him, and used him to make me. Cainus is white, but beautiful. He lets me hide in his warm fur to sleep. He tells me of places he has seen, with beautiful things called flowers and trees. How there are other creatures that would like me and others that would try to eat me. He says he wouldn't let them.
Papa said to stop being stupid when I asked him. Outside is a barren, dead world. I don't know what dead means. Or world. Is this my world?
Papa tried to take me away from Cainus one day. So I hunted him. I bit his neck and didn't let go until he stopped moving. His blood was the same color as mine, but tasted good. My tail wagged for the first time. The screams turned to laughter.
I know what kill means.
Pain. Suffering. Denial. Rage.
I would walk around and look in the tubes with figures. They don't look like me. They were missing pieces, or had extra pieces, or only part of pieces. Papa said I look like a little girl. But I have furry ears, and a tail, and spikes on my arms, and on my head that curl above me. Papa did not. Do little girls look like this?
Papa said I am a hunter. A killer.
What does kill mean?
Papa said the figures are my brothers and sisters. I don't like getting close because the screaming gets too loud. I'm scared of the room with my family.
The lights here are cold. Is there warm light somewhere? Papa is cold. His smiles are like stone. I want to see a smile like the machines when Papa leaves them on too long.
Papa said I need to eat food. It is gray, and feels weird. It isn't biteable. I cut my lips and tongue because I have longer teeth. Papa called them fangs. I liked the color of my inside liquid, Papa called it blood. It is so different than white and gray. I don't like the taste, and it hurts.
Blood. Kill. It's ugly. Papa is ugly and I cry a lot because I want him to smile. Tired machine smile. But he is like the floor deep in the home.
It is wet down there. Dark. Papa said to not go down there, but I wanted to. The screaming is dull down there.
I found something. He is bigger than me, with fur all over his body. He has four legs. His ears are like mine. His tail is like mine. He has a long mouth that has fangs like mine, but it pushes forward out of his face. His nails are longer, and sharper than mine, but my fingers are longer than his. I can bend mine and grab with them. He has spikes on his head. He says they are called horns and his name is Cainus.
He says Papa broke him, and used him to make me. Cainus is white, but beautiful. He lets me hide in his warm fur to sleep. He tells me of places he has seen, with beautiful things called flowers and trees. How there are other creatures that would like me and others that would try to eat me. He says he wouldn't let them.
Papa said to stop being stupid when I asked him. Outside is a barren, dead world. I don't know what dead means. Or world. Is this my world?
Papa tried to take me away from Cainus one day. So I hunted him. I bit his neck and didn't let go until he stopped moving. His blood was the same color as mine, but tasted good. My tail wagged for the first time. The screams turned to laughter.
I know what kill means.
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