Ichabod Ebenezer's Blog, page 10

Extra Credit

Image by composita from Pixabay



“I don’t get it, Professor,” Jenea said.

“I’ve seen pictures of the Earth before, and it didn’t look like
this.”

“Yeah,” said Woodrow, grabbing a fistful of grass. “The sky
is supposed to be brown. And plants grow in hydroponic bays, not on the ground.”

Professor Finch smiled. “It wasn’t always like that. This is
how the Earth looked in the early days of humanity, before overcrowding and
greed depleted its resources. Go ahead. Have a look around. See if you can spot
any of the native fauna.”

The children bolted in all directions, disappearing into the
tall grass and rosy heather. “Extra credit to anyone who can name them!” she
called out after them.

Small hands tugged on her chinos, and Maria was looking up
at her fearfully. “Can I un-jack, Professor Finch? I don’t like it here.”

The teacher came down to her level and brushed Maria’s hair
back behind her ear. “Oh, sweetie. What don’t you like about it?”

“It’s blowing my hair around like there’s someone behind me,
but when I turn around there’s no one there. And… and there’s no walls. It’s
not right, Professor. There’s supposed to be walls.”

Finch could see the tears coming, so she hugged Maria to
her. “How about I hold you. Will that be better?” She felt Maria nod and began
walking toward the snowline. “I understand what you mean, Maria. We’ve lived
inside ships like this for so many generations, we’ve gotten used to it. But it’s
been five hundred years, and it’s time to go back.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?”

“Well, you have a few years still. And if you try, I think
you might like it.” She pointed toward a hole where a small furry face protruded.

“Bunny!” Maria whispered. “Extra credit.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Maiden Rock

Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay



The young girl sat on a large boulder perched over the river.

Dressed all in white and barefoot, she looked out of place this far deep in the forest, but one who knew the sad history of the location could tell you this was Maiden Rock, and this young woman wouldn’t be the first to throw herself into the white water below, a victim of ill-fated love.

She kicked at a pebble and watched it roll down the face of
the boulder, regretting that she couldn’t hear the plunk far below. A cold nose
at the back of her arm alerted her to the white tiger’s presence.

“Oh, Jian. Don’t try to stop me,” she said, placing the palm
of her hand against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart beneath the fur.
The mournful tone of her voice bringing a tear to the tiger’s eye.

Jian came around to the front of the woman, splaying his
paws so as not to slip at this perilous angle. He rubbed his cheeks against her
face and purred.

“And don’t try to cheer me up! My father’s decision was
unfair! He can’t keep us apart like this, but he’ll never lift the curse
either.”

Jian plunked down on her legs so she couldn’t move from the
spot.

“Get off me! I thought you’d understand! This is the only
way that father will realize how cruel his curse is! Or would you have me
accept it too? Tell me, have you grown used to this new form?”

The tiger roared in response, then sat panting.

“Well, you can’t sit on me forever. Sooner or later, you’ll
have to get up, then I’ll show father.” She tossed another pebble and watched
it skitter over the edge.

“Then he’ll regret ever turning me human.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Fortune Cookie

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay



One more. Just one. last. trip. back.

Gareth took a step toward the portal and clutched his side,
hissing in pain. That was his kidney. Failing. They say it’s dangerous for two
versions of the same person to touch. Now he knew why.

His organs were shutting down.

But he could still fix this. Change history, and it never
happened. He hadn’t touched the original, just another version of himself that
had stumbled into him while searching for the original.

If only he had remembered which restaurant they’d been in.
If only the portal lasted longer than five minutes. If only there weren’t so
many versions of himself back there already. They were bound to bump into each
other eventually.

He started moving again, ignoring the pain wracking his
body. None of it mattered, because he’d found the original Gareth, eating a
number two with egg rolls, oblivious to Tina two tables behind him, the unrequited
love of his life.

Now that he knew where Gareth Prime was, all he had to do
was wait for those other two to bump into each other, then drop the fortune
cookie on Gareth Prime’s table.

He stepped through the portal, and found himself on the
sidewalk outside the Lucky Dragon restaurant. Through the window, he could see
his previous self, just gaping at Gareth Prime. What an idiot.

But where was the other one?

He coughed, spraying the window with blood. No more time. He
pushed open the door, focusing only on Prime, fingers clutching the cookie. His
vision narrowed, then the idiot stepped in his way. He shoved him aside and
stumbled forward, reaching out with the fortune cookie, but missing the table.

Gareth Prime knelt at his side. “Are you alright?”

No. He saw the cookie, crushed beneath Prime’s knee.

(Apologies for the lateness of this posting. There will be a second one today, and regular weekly flash fiction will resume presently.)

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Survivors

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay



“Was that Hawaii?” George asked.

“That’s the only thing it could be,” Roger said.

“Those bastards! What was the point in that?” Roger had no
answer, so said nothing. George tried again. “Well, where do we go now then?”

“Nowhere, George. There’s nowhere to go. If they’ve nuked Hawaii, that means they’ve already gotten
anyplace bigger, or closer. There’s nobody left. There’s nowhere left.”

A breeze from the west, from the direction of Hawaii, tugged
at their sail, and the boom swung to the limit of the mainsheet. Roger should
be tacking, but he just sat slumped against the hull.

George bit his lip to keep from crying. He was two years
younger than Roger, and crying was just what Roger would expect from him, and
that’s exactly why he wouldn’t. When the urge passed, he licked his lips and
said, “What are you thinking about?”

Roger shook his head. “I’m thinking about the future. About
how it doesn’t get any better. I’m thinking about throwing you overboard.
Drowning will be so much quicker…”

“Don’t do that Roger, don’t even think about giving up!
Maybe we can’t go to Hawaii, but we go somewhere! There were other people at
sea when this all started, and that means more survivors. We’ll find them. And
until then, we keep on fishing, and we keep distilling sea water.”

“Even if we found other survivors, what then? The world is gone. What’s the point?”

“Think about it. The sort of people who like to point guns
at each other just departed this world. I like to think the ones who are left
are gonna be friendlier.”

Roger sighed. He twisted one hand into the mainsheet and pushed the tiller all
the way to starboard.

“What are you doing?”

“Heading south. Kiribati’s somewhere down there.”

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(Far From) Home

Image by 8300 from Pixabay



“The only way to see Amsterdam is from the water,” Elias said,

rowing the small boat in the pre-dawn hours.

Even the sound of the sculling oars on the still water made Ranim
flinch. She still had the feeling that pursuers were just behind. She pulled
her daughter Reem close to share warmth.

How could Elias wear just a t-shirt and blue jeans? Over their
robes, Ranim and Reem wore scarves and thick jackets, yet her fingers stiffened
in the cold.

How could it be so cold? How could there be so much water?
How could these people waste all this light and yet afford to feed their
children? Did everyone have to own a car?

It was beautiful, even if it was frightening.

They passed under a bridge, and a car rolled over it,
rumbling so loudly she felt sure it would fall through.

She caught Elias watching her with amusement, and she grew
angry. She looked away and sang under her breath of Reem the smart, her hair
fair and tidy. She swayed and Reem hugged her more tightly.

“I’m sorry. I just remember that look. I saw it in the
mirror when I first came here. I was far from home, and everything was
different. Every custom that I adopted felt like a betrayal of my own culture. What
am I doing here? You know?”

“If my husband were here, he would stop you from speaking to
me,” Ranim said.

Elias nodded quietly and stowed the oars. The current
carried them toward a landing, and Elias threw a rope to several people in
traditional Syrian clothing who guided the boat to a stop.

They stood, and a woman beckoned with a friendly
expressions. Ranim turned back to Elias. “What changed?”

He shrugged. “I redefined home.”

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Prison

Image by Prettysleepy from Pixabay



The very iron of the door seemed to protest her imprisonment

as it swung shut behind her.

She turned to face her jailor. “Prison? For me? How long do
you think you can keep me?”

“I expect to keep you here a very long time, majesty,” the
monk said with a smile.

“I think you underestimate my popularity. The people will
storm your prison and free me.”

“The people believe you dead, majesty. A peasant girl with a
passing resemblance agreed to wear your gown, and quickly lost her head. Only
four people know of your survival, present company included. And the other two
will be dead by morning.”

The monk stepped up to the bars and rapped on them with a
knuckle. “If I were you, I would get used to it. Look! You have a lovely view
of the ocean.”

“You may have the people fooled, but I am perfectly capable
of effecting my own escape. And when I do, my revenge will be… creative.”

The monk smiled. “I know of your talents. But, that is why
you are here. The bars are cold iron, and there are no reflective surfaces. The
sea outside is never calm. You will drink from a damp rag and eat off wooden
plates.

Her lip curled in disgust as she examined the bars, keeping
her hands well away. “It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

“I’d say I’ll see you rot here, but you never will, will
you? I will, however, hear you beg for death!”

She snarled, coming face to face with him. “Look me in the
eye when you say that!”

He stared grimly back, but her lips curled into a smile.
Then he saw his own bewildered expression reflected in her eyes and knew his
mistake. But not in time to blink.

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The Temporal Explorers League

Image by FelixMittermeier from Pixabay

“It’s just a
party! Why can’t I go?” Barry asked. He tried to control the tone of his voice,
but it came out shouty.

“Because you’re not old enough, and I don’t know the host!”

“Stop treating me like a child!” Barry threw his backpack at
the couch and stormed out of the room.

“Where are you going now?”

“Nowhere, apparently! Just my room.” Barry stomped up the
stairs and slammed the door to his room. With fists clenched and breath coming
fast and heavy, it took him a moment to notice the light in the room was
different.

He slowly turned to see a faded wooden desk where his modern
plastic one had been. It held a candelabra, an inkwell and fountain pen, a
signet stamp and wax, a crystal goblet of water, a note on parchment, a globe
and other odd antiques.

“I can’t believe she moved my stuff!” Barry said. He snatched up the note, expecting it to explain.

Wishing you were elsewhere? Feel like you were born too soon or too late? The Temporal Explorers League is for you!
This desk is your key. Figure out the clues and how to join us at the correct place and time, and your membership will be approved.
This desk will return on its own in 24 hours.
Good luck!

-Misters Hillary, Cook, Magellan, and Byrd.

Anywhere was better than here, and Barry’s
favorite subject was geography, followed by history. He sat down and examined
the clues. The ink stain was clearly China, and the coins were Tang dynasty.
The calendar was open to February 3rd, 901, confirming Tang.

The box was full of spices that
would only have been available to the emperor. Barry turned the globe to Peking
and it began glowing…

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Candles

Image by Hermann Schmider from Pixabay



No one knew why it only came at night,

or where it came from. The only thing they knew was that until the pass cleared, they were on their own.

“You raised prices again? How in good conscience can you do
that, Nadine?”

“If you think I’m just profiting from this town’s tragedy,
Marta, you don’t have to buy my candles. Complain to the butcher who charged me
twice the usual for tallow. Or better yet, convince the bees to come out of
hibernation and make more wax for me!”

“I’m sorry, Nadine. I didn’t mean… I’ll just take two then.
She dropped several coins on the bar.

Nadine sighed. “I’m sorry too Marta. Look, don’t you have a
small room in your house? If you huddle together, you can light the room with
just one candle. I understand the Schwartz’s and the Reisengers have moved in
together to share their light. I’m sure I could convince Heinrich to make room
for you.”

Marta smiled. “I don’t think we’re ready to give up our home
just yet. I heard just this morning that the dogs had caught the monster’s
scent again. I’m sure this will all be over soon.”

“I hope they don’t lose it again. Did you hear about the
Dresdens?”

Marta crossed herself and picked up the two candles. “My
Paulie was the one who found them.” She hurried to the door, nearly trampling
over a young boy. “Careful, Peter!”

“Hi, Mrs. Seidl. Mrs. Ankershofen. Two candles, please.” He
plunked down his coins.

“How’s your mother, Peter?”

“Still won’t leave her room. Just slips coins under the door
for me. She spends all day pacing in there.”

“Terrible. I bet the nights are even worse.”

Peter cocked his head. “No. All I hear at night is her
curtains rustling.”

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The Scrying Crystal

Image by rihaij from Pixabay



“Tell me, girl! What do you see?” the old woman demanded,
her fingers shaking in anticipation.

Mary held the frozen globe lightly, worried that either her
fingers might freeze to it, or melt right through. “I… I don’t know.” Her eyes
narrowed. A single ray of sunlight danced across the frosty bottom half of the
sphere. There did seem to be something there…

Mary dropped the crystal with a gasp.

“No!” the old woman said, going to her knees and scooping
the delicate bauble up from the sharp peaks of frost. It was intact, but she
turned to the girl in anger. “Do you realize what you could have done?”

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, taking two small steps away from the
strange woman.

“No, don’t go! I must know what you saw.”

Mary hesitated, wanting to run back home and forget she ever
saw the old woman and her scrying crystal. Seeing the desperation in the woman’s
eyes as she knelt there clutching it with all the tenderness normally reserved
for a baby, Mary felt pity.

“There was something dark. At first, just a pinprick, but it
got larger, like it was coming closer. Then it was right in front of me, like
the head and shoulders of someone in a hoodie. And he reached toward me! It
looked like he was would grab my hand right through the crystal, so I let go!”

“You saw my son! Please! Was he happy? Is he still there?
Look again!”

Mary hesitantly took the proffered crystal, but the moment
she touched it, a hand grasped hers from within. A surge like electricity went
through her, and a second later a man stood where she had been.

“So cold…”

“Let me warm you, son,” the old woman said, tossing the
crystal aside.

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Conflagration

Image by Nicola Redfern from Pixabay



The two archmages threw spell after terrible spell at each other,

an epic battle of good versus evil that would determine the fate of the world. Volcanos erupted beneath their feet, and tornados scoured the landscape.

“We have to end this!” Eloanne shouted above the din. She nocked
an arrow to her bowstring in impotent fury.

“We’ll never even get close to them, darlin’,” Kerlin said,
reaching up to put a comforting hand on Eloanne’s hip. “It’s up to Telos now.”

They watched, as one moment, the sky was alive with a horde
of descending dragons, the next it bore the remnants of a dozen scorched
planets circling a dead star.

“But they’re ripping the planet apart! Even if Telos wins,
will we have a world to live in? Back me up, Galan!”

The mage’s apprentice watched the faraway battle with obvious
concern. “Telos made me swear to keep you back. And to take up his work should
it become necessary.”

“But we can’t stand here doing nothing!” Eloanne seemed on
the verge of charging up the newly formed mountainside on her own.

“That is precisely what we will do!” Galan said, spinning
round in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “This battle may rage for weeks,
and we will stand by to face the victor. You are not idle, you are preparing. If
Bartol wins, you may wish the world had been destroyed.”

Kerlin dug his spear into the ground and leaned on it. “I’ve
already prayed to my gods that our friend Telos emerges the victor.”

Galan stared off toward the growing conflagration. “Understand
this: It may be worse for us personally if he does. This kind of power can’t
help but change a man. The Telos who comes down that mountain may be worse than
Bartol.”

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