Tag Archives: Soul Smith

Soul Smith – Prologue

Soulsmith-with-title

Chuck’s doing another random song title story challenge again. ….And the winner is… Prologue, by Loreena McKennitt from her 2014 album, The Book Of Secrets. “Prologue?” I thought to myself, “that’s too vague.” I clicked next, and Bohemian Rhapsody started. Ugh, like that one hasn’t been overdone. Fine, I’ll do ‘prologue,’ and I’ll throw in a line from Bohemian Rhapsody. Here’s 1541 words:

* * *

Skye felt himself being strapped into the interrogation chair, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Nothing really matters, he thought, nothing really matters to meMy son is dead.

It had been weeks since he received word of Bear’s death, but the wounds were just as fresh today as they were the day their entire world had turned upside-down.

Ha, he thought, their world.

It was a monumental conceit. This was not their world. It never had been. They were the interlopers here. They had chosen to remain blind to the evidence all around them than to face the fact that the society they thought extinct had been anything but. Years of studying the chronicles of these humans; Years of trying to understand their culture. They were a society of extremes. Love, hate, music, art – each disparate part demanded an emotional response. Tales of great wars, great loves and the all-to-common nation-state oppressing those they deemed ‘inferior,’ or simply different.

Was it any wonder that the humans would seek vengeance against Skye and his people? After all, they had unwittingly brought an ice age to the human’s world, displacing millions, perhaps billions of people, all because of a delicate balance. It was a balance of wind and water. Skye closed his eyes, imagining he could comprehend millions and billions of deaths. The planet was so polluted, so violated; surely no species could prosper in such an inhospitable world?

Well, maybe not humans… They were such fragile creatures. The People, thought Skye as he approximated a human smile, The People were made from more robust… The thought died as Sky contemplated the origin myths of The People. Humans had their own myths. Myths that defied logic; Myths that contradicted themselves; Myths that they protected at any cost.

Skye was grateful for one thing:

The humans had destroyed their Heaven. This world would not share the fate of their home world. His lifelong quest was at an end, but at such a terrible cost… Skye had a hard time contemplating millions and billions of human deaths, but Heaven? The humans were but children compared to The People. Their notions of the afterlife were so… pedestrian. There were more souls living their lives in Skye’s Heaven than had ever populated this rock tumbling around a pale main sequence star.
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SoulSmith – Tearing Smile

Soulsmith-with-title

Woke up early today, so Inspiration Monday time! Telly helped with this one. Here’s 1450 words:

* * *

Barrow brought her knife down on the insect, watching it squirm, as it’s circular symmetry was broken, but she wasn’t able to enjoy its writhing agony like she normally did. She was growing bored. She had already memorized the placement of all the internal organs of the circlebug, and this particular specimen was not very awe-inspiring.

Her mother opened the flap of their small dwelling and poked her head out. “Did you find any, Barrow?”

“Yes, mother. Coming, mother,” she said, picking up the dying insect and heading inside to the smell of cooking swordgrass. It was a horrible smell, but it made her mouth water anyway.

She handed the insect to her mother, who dropped it into the boiling soup, and commenced to stirring.

“Just one?” she said, sighing discontentedly.

“Yeah,” Barrow replied. “And we were lucky to get that. They’re getting harder to find.”

Barrow hated it when her mother complained. Complaining did not help their situation. Only going out and doing something about it did anything, and she had a few ideas in that regard.

“I’ve seen quite a few outside the walls,” she said. “Perhaps we could…”

“Absolutely not!” her mother yelled unexpectedly. “I forbid you to go up on the wall again! What if you fell and… and…”

Her mother choked back on the dreaded word, and pounded the insect into the bottom of the pan with a sickening crunch, before going back to her stirring. “Just don’t go back there again.”

“But if we don’t find some food soon…”

“I know, little one. I know. I will do something about it tomorrow. I promise.

Barrow knew her mother would not be able to do anything about their situation, but merely shrugged her shoulders. It was all up to her. It always was.

Her mother strained out the water from the pulverized mixture. It was a sickly green, clear liquid. Then she added clean water and started stirring again. Next, she strained out the green water again, then repeated the process twice more, until the swordgrass and circlebug mash was a pure white color, all the green poison removed from it. Finally, she shared out a large portion for her daughter, and a smaller portion for herself.

Barrow shoveled spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, and before she knew it, her bowl was empty. Her mother finished hers much more slowly, and Barrow found herself wondering what would happen if she were to take her mother’s share as well.
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Soul Smith – Silence

Soulsmith-with-title

#FFC52 #3WW Both Three Word Wednesday and Thain in Vain were doing word prompts this week. My random word from the book I was reading was ‘silence.’ I also used derivations of the three words from #3WW. Here’s 1000 words for you:

* * *

“Gossamer threads link us all. Most of these threads twist back and overlap. Each instance of each thread connects us to each other. Some are minor, ignored by the fates. Some are known through out history. Devastating clashes and transcendent loves. Those are the stories that are told through the generations. We all want to hear of a love so profound, or a war so great, they change what it means to be who we are. Those that live in those times, in those instances, they’re unaware of the impact their actions have on us all.”

“Our world is dying. Arrogance and hubris drove our actions – our instances of overlap. If we’d known of the outcome, would we have continued down the same path? Would we have risen to the challenges, or plummeted to our doom?”

Ashe surveyed the arena. Where great sport events had once been the focus, the purpose of the great hall, now salvation was what was on everyone’s mind. The talk of today’s meeting jammed all communication. When Ashe read the faces of the members of the gathered factions, she saw fear these days where she had seen anger and contempt in the past.

Her eyes lingered on the young girl sitting in a section alone. Barrow, she thought. Barrow, they said, was responsible for the destruction of their world and their society. Ashe smiled and regarded the young woman. She held her head high, shoulders back with her long fingers intertwined on the table in front of her.

Ashe looked over her shoulder at the great sphere. The tendrils of blue were there for all to see. The threads that bound them all were so evident. “We must act!” She pounded the lectern and a ripple of shock moved in concentric rings until the entirety of those assembled felt it. Everyone, that was, except Barrow.

Shouts of dissention echoed. An angry murmur just as poignant as the shock flowed back towards Ashe. She felt their anger, their fear. She knew they looked to her to save their people. Again, she looked at Barrow. So calm and serene, she thought. She knew she wouldn’t be able to maintain the same composure Barrow did. But, she thought, I’m not responsible for so many deaths.

She longed to comfort the girl. To squeeze her shoulder and tell her that everything would be fine. In the depths of her psyche, depths that no one, not even she, dared to tread, she admitted that she wished their relationship was more than it was. She wished for the story of she and Barrow to be of an epic love, rather than the growing conflict. How was my thread chosen? She looked back in her mind’s eye and saw all the decisions. All her actions. Each made sense at the time, but…

The cacophony of overlapping voices hurt her ears. The emotions overwhelmed her. She banged on the lectern in an attempt to restore some semblance of order. Her actions were feeble against the tide. She felt as if she were in a small boat, trying to make it to shore. A storm raged around her, but she was unable to affect it in any meaningful way.
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