The concern over Kyra notwithstanding, the crew had much to celebrate. After all, prayers had been answered, how had not been discussed, but six days became seven and seven eight and everyone was just a little too overjoyed to tempt fate with questions.
John poured four glasses of amsec and handed one to Rog, one to Von and the last to Em. Lifting his crystal flute to the center, the others followed suit, the four golden glasses shinning like a chandelier as eyes looked upward for words to be spoken. A toast, he said as his voice trailed off.
What started as a slight vibration, a disturbing ripple across nectar held high, held firm, grew, exponentially; and in an instant, amsec rained down with shards of crystal and their small vessel rocked as if the hand of a giant had slapped the hull. As the four struggled to get to their feet, a second concussive wave knocked them down again as a young boy might shake a box of toy soldiers. Lights blinked and klaxons wailed and as quickly as the vessel was hit, stillness returned.
Rog yelled, although he didn’t need to, “I thought you said we had shields?”
John yelled back. “We do!” Picking himself up, his sea-legs betrayed him and only his strong arms kept his head from banging the control panel. “Our systems must be down?”
“What?” asked Rog.
“I said our systems must be down. Not a threat within a parsec, the screen is blank.”
“Blank?” said Von.
“Nada.”
Rog took the pilot’s seat. Then a low vibration, almost a moan wafted over the comms followed by a sickly gurgling sound. “What the—“
The hair on the back of Von’s neck stood up. Before anyone could react, a blood curtling scream, unmistakable in tone, permeated the room.
“My Janus,” cried Von. “Its Kyra.”
Unknown #1: We put her at great risk.
Unknown #2: We have no choice.
Unknown #1: Are you prepared to lose her?
Unknown #2: (with hesitation) Yes.
Unknown #2: We have no choice.
Unknown #1: Are you prepared to lose her?
Unknown #2: (with hesitation) Yes.
“Open the frailing door!” screamed Rog, his nerves frayed by the unworldly cries from within Kyra’s room, his hands bloodied from effort.
“It won’t budge,” screamed John back.
“Move!”
“Won’t do any good,” interjected Von.
“What?”
“The door will open when it is ready to open. You’d just as soon change the fabric of reality as to pry it apart.”
“Are you suggesting we just sit here?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you the matters at hand are beyond our ability to influence. Take that as you will.”
“So what do we do?”
“Bow our heads and pray we see our girl again.”
27 comments:
Oh gosh.
There I was all poised for a moment of stillness, what was I thinking, this is The Story, :-), and I do so love the story.
I may have said it a million times before, but with each chapter, as soon as one starts reading, one is transported straight into this fantastic world where for those moments nothing matters more than finding out what the next paragraph might bring. Thoroughly intriguing, always.
That scream could hardly have been anymore alarming had it been audible. With just one word, you instilled such fear had nothing else been said on the matter, it wouldn't have lessened the impact.
Questions and still yet more questions. The inclusion of that short exchange conjuring yet more confusion. Who are these unknowns and what do they have to do with what is happening to Kyra. What is happening to Kyra. :-) Been at the edge of my seat for 18 months!
Loved the metaphor about the giant hand. Loved the whole chapter, just wish you'd hurry up and write the next one already. ;-)
Very, very nicely done! Wonderful sense of mystery there at the end too, where the younger men take action, trying to get through the door and Von, and he himself probably doesn't even know how, has some, albeit unsatisfactory, real explanations/suggestions.
As always, thank you my dearest Sunshine for your very kind words. The next chapter, or a chapter coming soon I should say, will take us into the experience Kyra is undergoing. I can't promise there will be answers but I do hope to impart some of the visual and visceral images that are flowing in my mind, clear as day. Like Rog and John, I want to do something as I watch her suffer and my gut turns knowing I can't, knowing she must experience "the fall" or whatever else you want to call it. It does concern me that the very ones I would expect to have control, "The Unknowns", seem likewise to be at the mercy of something beyond themselves, and that in and of itself is of interest.
Here is a small taste of things to come: Imagine, like a butterfly in transformation, so is Kyra but imagine it this way--an air breathing creature is transformed into one of water or a fish is transformed to breath on land and try and imagine the pain and agony such a transformation might bring.
You know, I need to be careful in making my trailers better than than the chapter. :-D
Oh, my. Things don't bode well for Kyra in the moment. Kyra, however, will not go gently and I'm sure she will extricate herself from the abyss and persevere. I have no doubt that it will be magical to watch her do so.
You do realize that these chapters are becoming addictive? Oh, but of course you do; hence the trailers.:-)
SJ, I've been addicted to them for the better part of 18 months and they still have a magical hold on me as my characters continue to unfold before my imagination. I suppose if I were to dream, I would dream that money was not needed and I could sit and write all day long. I'm going to go make some coffee. Can I get you a cup?
As for Kyra, she is the love of my writing life. Never underestimate the character a writer loves the most. :-D
These characters are magical. I can see why you love them so, particularly Kyra.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we didn't have to worry about anything so mundane as earning the money to pay the bills? The ability to write when and where I feel like it would be a lovely dream.
I'd love a cup of that coffee, please. It smells wonderful.:)
SJ, just so you know, I only serve Italian roast, fresh ground, prepared in a french press at four minutes, lightly stirred and served only in off-white cups with a slight lip.
Torrefazione's Palermo Blend is a personal favorite of mine. ;-)
No need for such promises, not all questions need answers, more important is the asking and the exploring. With the last chapter, talk here of such collossal transformation seems to confirm that sense that this is a point to which the story has been leading, that though that scream was horrendous, it needn't all be bad, and that in actual fact Kyra is about to re-emerge more complete, more knowing, more who she always was, or was destined to be.
Through it all, through all the assurances that Kyra was something special, through Papa's eyes as he marvelled over the child, through the chapters of Kieran, somehow it's never been quite as marked as it is now, Kyra is not like the others, she is extraordinary. Whatever lays up ahead, though that great sense of concern wavers not, not only do we thankfully have the interviews back on Earth at some point in the future to look towards always in times when she is in a threatening situation, but she evokes faith that she has the strength to get through and to keep on going, come what may. Besides, cliched though it might be, equally true it is, that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and so - come what may - one thing we can be certain of is that Kyra will eventually overcome.
Good chapter Tree, I was brought to kyra's space and the shouting of everyone trying to get her door to open. When you can do that, you have done your job as a writer. Awaiting to read more in the shadows.
Inside, thanks for your very kind words. I am always torn between saying too much and saying too little. As I reread this chapter, so many other images come to mind I could have included to fill out in prose what I saw/see in my mind. The greatest challenge is trying to somehow communicate with words a mood, a feeling, a scene with texture. Many of my chapters are unlocked with music and while listening to music, an emotion rises and takes hold of a character and an action and before I know it, a chapter is born. Sometimes, when the scene plays out in my mind, I feel emotionally exhausted, sometimes moved to tears. What Kyra is experiencing is one such scene. I can see her pain so clearly in my mind, as clear as if I had watched the movie last night. I can see her face, her body, her movement. I can hear her screams and gurgling and wailing and cries for help. I'll stop here before I say too much of things to come. ;-)
Sunshine, I am fascinated with this transformation Kyra is about to experience. Just the fact that "The Unknowns" fear the process is in doubt, that the very process which is necessary has the ability to "lose" her--which, in my mind, could mean two things: (1) In a literal way, lose her as in she dies--but with the interviews from earth, we know that is not going to happen; (2) that they will lose her as in she misses her chance to "move to the next level" so to speak. Either way, the situation, as is Kyra's future, is in doubt.
Now, if she rises to the challenge, so to speak, then the challenge for me is how I somehow show that change in who we know Kyra to be, again, without making her one dimensional or predictable or unsympathetic. I think I have an idea, but that is about as far as it has gotten so far. Besides, until the chapter is written, it hasn't happened. :-D
Is anyone else attributing a male and femaleness to Unknown #1 and Unknown #2? I didn't write them to have gender, but it seems as I reread, gender, or at least personality come screaming out. How does that happen in less than twenty words? LMAO. I'm starting to think I have too much time on my hands. That was a rhetorical statement by the way.
Just a thought. What if Unknown #1 and Unknown #2 are the same entity, perhaps represented by a talk noble figure with two dignified heads. Just thinking out loud. :-)
I suppose I'm guilty of sort of taking it for granted that Unknowns #1 and #2 have male attributes. I "assumed." We do tend to do that, don't we? Sliding people neatly into slots, I mean.
Such emotion you feel creating Kyra and her world! I daresay not all writers feel such a panopoly of emotions during the creative process. That sets you apart, and it's what makes Kyra so compelling.
Oh, and yes, the fresh ground Italian roast sounds exquisite. If you'd pour it now...
I will, pour it now, with tender loving care. Hold your cup steady. Let me see your nails. Coffee is better with a good manicure. ;-)
As for the emotion, I don't know the origin (although I have some ideas), but I do know it is there, has been my whole life and I don't see that changing anytime soon. Doesn't take much to move me. I cry easily at movies. Can't help it. No longer try to resist it or judge it either. Without that well of emotion, I'm not sure I would want to write or read what I have written. I want to feel. I would rather feel pain than nothing. But to feel, to touch and be touched. The story gives me an outlet to do both. From the creation in my heart and mind, to the writing, to the reading, to the comments and the interaction. The story is a living entity. To those that ask about a "book" well, I've said it many times, the story, with its audio, images, video, comments, endless crisis and cliffhangers, well, a book would kill it. :-)
Ready for another cup? :-D
In case I can't find a computer to logon on Friday, I've done up a little card, with a family of teddy bears so you can be surrounded by many beary hugzzz!! :D
You can see it anytime from today at my site :)
Again, I'm gonna ask for your permission to put the 2nd fractal on my site--it's mesmerising!
Saffy, permission granted. On my way. Thank you for being so thoughtful. Four more days to forty-four. :-D
My nails are polished a soft, pale pink, neither too long nor too short. Will that qualify me for another cup of that delicious coffee with the alluring bouquet?
My dear Trée, the well of emotion is what sets you apart. It's affirmation to the highest degree of your humanity, and what enables you to create this living entity. In other words, it's marvelous.:)
Oooooh, I think you just cleared your tab with that comment. If I didn't know better, I might begin to think you had a little Châtelaine in you.:-D
Come a little closer. Show me the back of those neither too long nor too short polished nails, slowly. Click them on the table, let me hear them.
You know, my dear Serena, I would write more but I'm at a lost for words and what I really want to do is read your comment another twenty times or so. ;-)
And the answer is yes.
Châtelaine? Perhaps. I'm guessing they do always balance their accounts. With a paid tab, I am free to linger at the table with my delicate off-white cup and ... click my nails on its glass top. Perhaps you'll brew another pot of coffee?:-)
A pot of coffee for a smile, the kind of smile that says stay awhile, the kind that watches me as I turn to walk away, the kind that says come sit beside me. If you've got that kind of smile, I have all the coffee in the world. But I hope you see something you like besides just my coffee. :-)
But, of course. And as I sit beside you, I see ... much.:)
Should I swoon now or later? :-D
By the way, do you know that you smile with your eyes? Dance with me. Wrap your mind around mine as delightfully as your educated fingers trace anticipation in the furrows of my brow. Make me forget there is a tomorrow. :-)
You do have a way with words. I think it would be bad form for you to swoon first. I'll go first, you'll pick me up off the floor, and then we can have our dance.:-)
Tomorrow is almost here, and this is a good thing because I have no doubt that another chapter will then be born.
To quote from the first chapter of the story:
Fear not the fall, what my arms might miss, my heart will catch. :-)
Then I won't be afraid. Just don't let my head hit the floor.:)
That's a beautiful quote.
Thank you SJ. I won't say it was the quote that launched the story, but the short chapter this one comes from is where everything started. I often wonder, if I had not created that one fractal, which led to that brief post, would there even be a story. And my guess is no. Interesting how the whole direction of our lives can turn on the smallest things, the most unexpected crossing of paths, things, which at the time, we hardly noticed, but as we look back, take on a significance beyond any reason in the particular.
If you want to read the whole chapter, look in the archive to 11/26/2005, Caribbean Canopy.
I like this image... I can't say what it reminds me of. Worms with eyes, intelligent life forms? Not sure...
Chicky, when I saw your comment in the sidebar, I assumed you were talking about the image used for Listen. Imagine my surprise. :-D
Post a Comment