Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Congratulations to Marianne Petrino, five-time champion of the Science Fiction Microstory Contest
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Well done, Marianne. A beautiful and moving story.
Indeed well done, Marianne.My top choice, and clearly not alone in that!
Very, very well deserved, Marianne. A superb story.
Really great story, Marianne. I enjoyed reading it immensely, and that's the whole point!-C
Thanks all. I am very surprised. Some of the best reads were in this month's offerings. :)
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Jot: Does this mean I get to play the Rocky music ;)I feel honored by the outpouring of positive comments and support. I hope what I have come up with for next month's contest makes everyone take flight creatively :)
A wonderful story Marianne, and a very well deserved win. Congratulations!
Congratulations, Marianne! Nicely written!
by Marianne Petrino
There is change in the air. The waves lap the shore as before, but my footprints do not disappear. The dolphins circle; the gulls cry; the sun sets. The great arc of the Milky Way in the dazzling night sky fills me with joy. But a tangle of dread pulls my thoughts into a knot. I have not seen Sparkly. Why would a blazing white unicorn hide itself? In the morning, I will check the coves, after my reading at the Library. Papa always valued education.
But morning never comes. The Milky Way is frozen above.
Papa said this would happen one day. “The World will get sick from a virus, and die, but you must be brave, baby, for you will survive.” That was the last thing he said to me before he dove into the ocean and disappeared forever.
I have reached back into my memory many times, but I have found it lacking. How did I get to this beach? One minute, I was playing with my stuffed animal. The Bronx traffic blared in the background, along with Papa’s frantic cries on the phone to the hospital where he worked. I blinked. Then, I was at the seashore with Papa, who still left.
From one day to the next it is always the same: sunrise and sunset; Milky Way rise and Milky Way set. I was alone until the animals simply appeared, but never lonely in my exile. Yet I wonder why I never questioned the absence of the moon, and many other things, like why food has not passed my lips since Papa departed. I wonder why I was never worried until now.
It remains an unsolvable puzzle, but I never spend too much time trying to understand it. I trust Papa. That is all that matters. But was forgetting necessary? Was that a puzzle piece?
The clopping of hooves breaks my reverie. “Sparkly!” I shout. But something is wrong with the glowing unicorn. Dark splotches have marred her pristine white coat. She looks at me with sad blue eyes.
To my astonishment, instead of a soft whicker, she actually addresses me with a human voice, “End protocol commencing. Unlocking Code initiated.”
My heart races in my chest; doubt flares in my heart. “You are sick, Sparkly, like the World. Am I going to die too! Did Papa tell a lie!” The unicorn rests herself on the sand and places her head in my lap.
Sparkly takes a shuddering breath. “We’re in! Bringing back physiological functions to full, but taking it slowly.”
My head warms and hurts; I hold my palms to my temples. “Make it stop,” I cry.
Another voice drifts on the wind, breezy, but concerned. “Ease up, Smarts. The child has been in a suspended state for ages. Give her time to adjust.”
Sparkly huffs to the wind. “Glad you found her Quarantine Box, Magda. It was finally failing. I’m shocked that it actually lasted so long. This is only the second one ever found from the start of Outbreak with a living occupant.”
“Good thing she’s a girl.”
Sparkly adds, ”Nano-vaccinations complete.” Her eyes go dead.
The Milky Way dissolves in a flood of light. The brilliance descends, devouring everything. “Goodbye, Sparkly,” I whisper to the engulfing silence.
There is the low humming of a machine. I am blinking back tears as color and sound return like sheets of rain falling across the ocean. Two people are above me. “Mama?” I ask. Whatever happened to my Mama? Why did I never ask that question?
A cool hand strokes my flushed face. “Yes, child,” says the woman with dark skin like my own. “You have been born into a new world, so I guess I am your Mother, for I delivered you.”
I sit up, not on sand, but on a hard table. I am in a room that looks like one Papa used to work in at the hospital. I am naked. I shiver, and the woman covers me with a red blanket.
In the far corner is a pink Box. Or is it really a child's casket? Another woman with black hair, but lighter skin, regards me with rich brown eyes. “You are free, child. What do you wish to be called?”
I remember all of it now; I was ten when I went into that Box because of Outbreak. I am still ten in body, but not in mind.
The pixilated dreams are gone. I answer, “Decca.”