Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Thanks again for participating in this writer's club. Two months until the 10 year anniversary!
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We should do a 10 year retrospective bumper-sized book...
Would be nice as well to write a memorial in it for those who are no longer with us. Unfortunately, there's a few.
Yes, definitely to include a memorial. And let's let people select, say, the 3 of their stories they consider best of those they've published here. And each to name--or pick, if the book is large enough--3 stories by others that they consider the best published here.
And a gratefulness section where we can thank those of the group for help they've given to oneself or to the whole group.
I'm curious--remembering the first two contests of the group were the November and December (or was it October and November?) 2012 ones, so the 10th year anniversary 2 months from now (late August/early September, or so) is when you first organized and posted notices on LinkedIn announcing the group/competition, Jot--? That was such a wonderful thing to do, and a daring step. You will have to put a paragraph or 2 (at least) about how that was like, what that felt like, too.
Hi Jot,Congratulations. I didn't vote for yours on false pretenses. I thought it preposterous that trees could move but my presumption was slain by Socratea exorrhiza a type of palm in Central and South American rainforests that do indeed move up to 2cm per day. It grows roots in the direction of the sunlight and allows the old roots in the shade to lift in the air and die. My bad! It was a good story!
Mod
A 10 Year Anniversary book is a great Idea! It has my vote.
I can't lead the effort, but I can volunteer time to help.
Mod
I think I discovered it around the middle of 2013. Was initially very intimidated by all of the self-assured, exceedingly polished writers.
©2022 by Jot Russell
"All are welcome." The message carried a thousand years to the shores of our dying world; the same years that our broadcasts had been sent out with every detail of who we are. An encyclopedia of information begging for reciprocity, only to finally here, "All are welcome," at regular intervals.
"Who are they? What are they?" raised the questions within the hearts of the damned. "It's a trap!" Deemed some, when all had known that the real trap was where we had lived.
Ours was the last of the seed vessels, pushed furthest yet into the reaches of space. At near light speed, the message was now a constant echo, "All are welcome." What did it truly mean?
A year of our lives spent within this shell added another hundred to the age of the galaxy around us. In five, we reached the midpoint of our journey. Kids were born, and new life renewed our hopes to that which lay ahead. Another two, and we were now in range to get a response to our queries. As the clock clicked to zero, the "welcome" mat was suddenly retracted. No other response, just dead air that reduced our hopes of a new home ahead. Oh how we longed to here those words one more time. Fears grew to beg the question, "Are we still welcome?"
The strength and nature of the messages from home faded, until one day that year, they ceased. Dead air from ahead, and now from behind. Were we the last, only to be cast out of a dying world to one that we can now only fear?
We continued on, knowing only the life within this space-submarine. With nine years passed, images of the world ahead started to form: A green jewel without ocean or desert. No polar ice caps, just an expanse of vegetation that covered the globe. Ten years, and we arrived, genteelly slowing until we made orbit. Below, an endless jungle of trees extended up into the atmosphere. With no sight of land, I opened a channel and asked, "Where do we land?"
Only static followed, until suddenly, a single word was received, "Here."
I verified that the message didn't include some type of digital coordinate and asked again, "Where?"
"There!" said another, pointing to the view screen over a large section of countless trees that retracted their interwoven limbs to uncover a gap within the tree structure. Without opening a link, I puzzled over the sight. "Their trees can move?"
"We are the trees."
From below, the trees slowed their separation until a hole was opened to the size of our vessel.
**
For years we lived within the hollow structures of the trees; lived with the trees. And endless playground of mazes, lakes and waterfalls, with streams of light making their way through the intricate lattice that lay above. An abundance of fruit, with no insect or animal life of any kind to share the spoils. An effective utopia until one uncovered the true magic of this place, or was it a curse? The children were no longer growing, and no new babies were conceived since the landing. We had learned from the trees that they were immortal, without even a notion of death within their language. For how many of thousands of years had they lived? Only for us to inherit this protection against time. Ironically, it would be short lived.
A morning came with the shutter of the ground and the shaking of the trees. It was then that day turned back to night. The quakes grew stronger, as the trees cracked and tumbled, falling amongst our abandoned vessel. We took shelter within and powered her engines back to life. With telemetry up, it showed the cause; a dark star that ripped through the system, pulling this and the other planets off of their orbits. We watched as the computer traced the future paths of planets. The forest planet was being drawn out into the cold reaches of space, only to be pulled back and plunged into its star. As with our world, the trees here would learn what death is.
**
Countless years have past since the forest planet, and I shed a tear for their loss and the eventual loss of my crew. Five years ahead lay another green and blue jewel, but my heart weakens in the isolation and loneliness. I question whether I can make it, but for the sake of my species, I pray so.