SEPTEMBER 2026 SCIENCE FICTION MICROSTORY CONTEST (Stories Only) > Likes and Comments
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THE QUESTUnder the searing white light of a triple sun, Kaa-Rynn glanced at the sub-dermal time monitor on the palm of her hand, the symbols shifting as the nano-tech responded to her mental command. She clenched her fist, realizing time was short. Her daughter would not live much longer.
#
Kaa-Rynn knelt on the jungle floor, her keen eyes studying the Raal’s trail of broken fronds, her keen sense of smell detecting the animal’s now highly elevated hormonal scent in the warm, buzzing air. She glanced again at her palm chronometer and grit her teeth. So little time. She started and rolled as the Raal rustled in the tree above, its predatory shriek sinking like a skewer to her marrow, the beast’s poisonous claws extended.
Flat on her back, Kaa-Rynn’s first instinct was to raise her spear and skewer the beast through its exposed underbelly. But, no, she realized, her blood running cold as she threw the spear aside. No hope of missing what the Raal carried within. Only a second…she drew her knives as the Raal leapt. She winced as the claws pierced her shoulders, the sting of the venom racing through her blood. She roared in defiance as she plunged the twin knives into the Raal’s throat, severing its arteries. The beast roared, baring its fangs, its blood spurting across Kaa-Rynn’s strong, tattooed arms as it died.
Forcing her hand to keep steady, her breath racing, she put the tip of one knife to the dead Raal’s underbelly…and carefully sliced downward, mindful of what the animal carried. Silently praying to the Mother Goddess she hadn’t exceeded the genetically designed limit to the life of the offspring…she carefully extracted her newborn daughter from the Raal’s natal sac and cut the umbilical cord. Turning the child and slapping her…she gasped and laughed in joy as the baby cried. Cradling her daughter in the crook of her arm, she wiped the blood from her little forehead and cried in joy.
#
Kaa-Rynn panted in the heat as she made her way through the jungle, the baby secured in a sling around her back. The fever of the poison raged through her blood. She fought to stay conscious, sweat pouring down her face as she made her way toward the pick-up site. Glancing at her palm chronometer, she saw time was short, the poison working fast. As the chronometer changed into a map of the immediate area, she saw there were Daarvyn trees nearby. Their roots were a natural cure for the poison…
But, no. No time. The baby needed food and water, and she had none to give. Her daughter was her primary obligation. She thought of her beloved Laa-Ryll and struggled on. She would not be beaten.
#
Kaa-Rynn activated the homing beacon in the clearing and held her daughter close to her heart as the landing craft descended, its thrusters generating a hot wind rippling across the jungle fronds and her hair. She kissed her daughter on the head. She lost consciousness just as the med team reached her.
#
Laa-Ryll held her hand in the hospital bay on the space station over Kaal Prime.
“Beloved,” the beautiful Laa-Ryll whispered, a tear sliding down her lovely cheek as she kissed Kaa-Rynn’s hand. “Had you and our daughter died…I would have left the inheritance and the Empire to my eldest sister and blown myself out that airlock.”
“I know,” Kaa-Rynn whispered, wiping the tear from her beloved’s face. “That’s why I had to make it back.” They kissed.
#
Before the silver towers of the capitol, under the double sun and the blazing blue skies, the Empress Saar-Ahnn stood before the gathered crowds with her eldest daughter Laa-Ryll and her new daughter-in-law and heiress apparent, Kaa-Rynn, co-mother to her newborn granddaughter.
“Daughters of the Empire,” the Empress declared through her hovering audio drones. “Through the Quest, Kaa-Rynn has proven herself worthy to combine her blood with that of my daughter Laa-Ryll. Their daughter is heiress to the Galactic Empire.” The crowds cheered.
“Five millennia ago, the males of legend destroyed fabled Terra and themselves, leaving our foremothers to roam the stars, struggling for survival on many worlds. Our genetic engineers designed our way of life to ensure not only the purity of the founding Imperial bloodlines, but the worthiness, courage, and above all, the love of each new co-mother of the line.” The crowds went wild.
Kaa-Rynn smiled and put her arm around Laa-Ryll as she held their daughter.
“To fly to the sun without burning a wing…”For more than two centuries, it circled the sun at about 1,000 kilometers a second. An early astronomer took it for dirt on his lens; later astronomers assumed it was a sunspot. The Parker Solar Probe settled the matter: It was an abandoned ship, one durable enough to survive inside the corona the whole time. Someone called it Helios Chariot and the name stuck.
Fifty years later, a team of archeologists set out on a one-of-kind ship, the Icarus, to learn the secrets of the Chariot.
--
The pursuit phase went off like clockwork. After several retrograde burns they were on course to match orbits. A prograde burn should settle them in with a manageable delta-V. Once docked with the Chariot, It would become a solar shield, keeping them cool until Icarus’ return window opened, in eighteen days.
The arresting system snagged the Chariot but the delta-v was too high. Icarus’ engines fired to compensate. Instead of the 2-3 G forces the crew expected, it was closer to 7.
After the rough landing, the ship’s crew figured out the problem: The math was correct, the mass of the Chariot was within tolerance as calculated by measuring its change in velocity during docking. It turned out to be a matter of time. The chief engineer, Soran, summed it up nicely: “We’re not feeling the Sun’s gravity because we are in orbit. But, between the gravity and shifting magnetic fields, time is being distorted. An hour here is not the same as an hour on Mercury. It was only a few minutes off, but our burn time was extended and then we burned more braking. Rather than rely on inaccurate fuel calculations which require a precise clock, we’ve taken a direct measure of our fuel reserves.
We haven’t enough fuel to complete our ascent; If we attempt, we’ll burn up.”
The archeologists, faced with becoming part of “the dig,” stoically set out to collect and transmit as much data as possible in the time they had left.
While the ship was alien, the reason they were in orbit all these years easily discerned: They, too, ran out of fuel. In their case, they put the ship on automatic before bailing out.
The Chariot had the same reaction-control engine design as the Icarus and had similarly empty fuel tanks. But something kept the Chariot in orbit all this time: Ramjets, taking in a bit of the coronasphere, compressing it into plasma and ejecting it at high velocity. This system could keep the joined ships aloft indefinitely but wasn’t enough to get them out of orbit.
After several hours of calculations, the engineers were strangely relieved by another conclusion: They could not scavenge enough parts from the Chariot to get Icarus to safely. This historic find would remain intact. On the other hand, learning they were doomed was not helpful.
What they needed was a boost, a shove in the right direction.
The Chariot’s engines briefly flared as it avoided another coronal mass ejection. Dodging the waves in a glowing sea.
Waves.
Soran called the team together, sketching as he spoke. “I worked briefly at the Vandenberg Launch Complex years ago, before it washed out to sea. It was in Southern Canada, along the California cost. Before we reversed climate change, top surfers would come out for these 30-meter waves. A good ripper could ride one almost a mile inland and step off on Interstate 1, using nothing but a surfboard and the power of the sea.”
“A coronal mass ejection is just a wave of matter, traveling away from the Sun at high velocity. If we can maneuver into the right one, we could ride it out of here. Helio’s Chariot has survived much more, so that shouldn’t be a problem. We pick the right wave and we’re headed home.”
--
An override was added to Helio’s Chariot’s navigation system and everything not bolted down was strapped, tied or bolted down. As the launch window approached, Soran watched for his wave. Three hours later, he called out “Surf’s up” as he steered the two ships into the glowing mass of stellar matter.
Out of forward portal, the orange haze around the stars faded and the welcome sight of the retrieval ship swam into view.
"Bugged"by J.F. Williams
Albert glanced at the clock on the wall of Dr. Mellon's office. It had no numerals, only dots, and was spare like the office furnishings: a boxy desk with a walnut veneer, a well-upholstered blue couch that seemed to float on slim black legs, and a dark blue easy chair occupied by the doctor himself. Light was provided by a large wide window offering an expansive view of the city from the 15th floor. But the light was diminishing as grey storm clouds approached from the distance.
"So when did these feelings start?" Mellon asked him, barely making eye-contact as he readied his pencil on a leather-bound journal.
"It was back in Jersey," Albert answered, roughly calculating how long he had to tell the story. "Mare and I. That's my wife, who got me to come here. Mare and I had friends over last summer, for a cookout. It was a hot evening and the bugs were out. Black flies. Mosquitoes. We eventually brought everything indoors because they were swarming, and biting. We had citronella torches burning but it was unbearable. Probably because our development was built near a swamp.
"A buddy of mine worked at All-Bindings Labs and told me about a pesticide they were testing, called XI-12. It didn't kill the bugs but actually attracted them. Like mosquitoes would gorge on it and leave people alone. It messed with their DNA too, producing mutations, so they eventually die out. But it was totally safe for pets and birds and such, not like DDT.
"I got him to give me a sample and we tried it out. We put this yellow, waxy paste in buckets around the patio. The wildlife wouldn't go near it but man the bugs went nuts for it. You don't want to see a bucket of it when they are feasting so we put the buckets farther away after the first time. Like I said, it doesn't kill them so there weren't dead bugs all over the place.
"Summer evenings outdoors were nicer, and we didn't need the smelly citronella. But a few weeks after we ran out of XI-12 crazy things started happening. I couldn't go anywhere outside without being followed by bugs and flies and mosquitoes. While I was indoors, they covered the windows. We stuck it out till the cold weather arrived and figured the problem was over. My buddy informed me the lab ended XI-12 development, for 'unexpected side-effects.'
"Over the winter, we'd sometimes find bugs in the house and swatted them. They looked messed up. I swear, some had extra legs or wings or eyes. By early spring the problem was back and I got the transfer here. Mare and I had a month to relocate so we hit the road. Wherever we stopped, St. Louis, Denver, Las Vegas, I'd see bugs coming at us. Mare worried I'd lost it and we quickened our pace, getting here a few weeks early. But I was still creeped out any time I saw a bug. I've had the shakes at night. I don't go outdoors. I've been working remotely from our new place for a while now."
Mellon shifted in the easy chair. "So what do you think is happening, Albert? How do you make sense of these feelings?"
Albert glanced at the clock again and saw he was running out of time. Outside, the sky had darkened, heralding a violent thunderstorm, and Mellon pressed a button that drew the curtains closed. Soon they heard the pitter-patter of rain hitting the window.
"Doc, I think the bugs are after me. I think they want more of that XI-12 from me. They are mutating and I think they got smart."
Mellon raised his eyebrows. "Your wife disagrees?"
"Yeah. She thinks I was traumatized back in Jersey. The bugs don't bother her."
"Or maybe she doesn't let them bother her," said Mellon in a soft, caring voice. His phone dinged. "Our time is up. I want to see you again in a couple of days."
"Am I crazy, Doc?" pleaded Albert.
Mellon smiled. "I think you've had some trauma. We'll work through this."
Albert left the office feeling a little less burdened. The pitter-patter on the windows stopped after a few minutes and Mellon pulled the drapes. The skies were beginning to clear but where Mellon expected to see water droplets on the glass he saw, instead, numerous dead flies and mosquitoes, even a large, squished June bug with multiple eyes of different sizes.
(750 words)
The Ruins of LoveRising a hundred feet up, the palace of the Norellian Realms loomed as a once proud beacon over a recently decimated empire. Lost of its luster, it sat quiet and cold, a fractured castle upon cracked foundations. Billowing smoke blanketed the city in a thick haze, and I began the long climb up the quartzite steps, ready to finish a terrible journey I never intended to take.
She’d always been so loving and kind – never the monster she became, though I suppose it was never really her at all. What began as a mission of love became only ruin, and my surroundings stood testament to my avarice. I rose above the outward walls, and the surrounding extermination became plain. My chronometer said twenty-three metric cycles to the day, and it was hard to believe. So much destruction. So much death. It was all my fault.
Rebecca the Pitiless. Rebecca the Destroyer. Death’s Hand. The Eradicator. She had become so much more ruthless than I could have ever thought, all with the ceaseless desire to protect and love me. I scrutinized with heartache a pulverized landscape – the lower courtyard filled with bodies, its barriers fractured, the city flattened. She left without notice on a mission of her own, and I pursued her from the beginning, each time arriving too late. Now, answering to a higher authority, I must fix the mess I created, and I’d finally caught up with her.
Reaching the top-most landing, the planet Norellia was dead, and I, the only living thing on its surface. She’d hacked whole fleets, molded terrible weapons to her obedience, and dispensed her judgement ruthlessly. Still, I was safe – the one person she couldn’t harm and was specifically compelled to protect.
“I was hoping you’d come,” she said from behind me.
“You knew I would.” I turned to meet her. She smiled. Her gaze was captivating and she was as lovely as ever – flowing raven hair draped upon slender shoulders, a silken gown drifting upon the breeze. I loved her since I could remember but couldn’t ignore the fifty-seven systems and seventy-three inhabited worlds. None were able to resist. Every soul was extinguished.
“I’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you,” I admitted, “at least the old you.”
She approached, and I stepped back. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“The original you wouldn’t have to ask. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Protected you,” she remarked. “I kept us safe.”
“By wiping out entire civilizations?”
“This galaxy is treacherous and corrupt. Everything I’ve done is for us.”
I couldn’t reply, for I could see the woman I loved behind the menace who’d caused whole planets to fall. “This is all my fault,” I lamented. “When Rebecca died, my soul was crushed. Placing her memory engrams inside you I…I hoped we could find the happiness I’d lost.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” She stepped toward me again, only this time I didn’t retreat. “I watched your suffering, while illness took me, as you blamed the world and cursed the universe.”
“I was broken.”
“I wanted to fix it.” Another step forward.
“I only needed you to fill the portion of me that died that day. You were built to love me,” I sulked, lost in a dream of a peaceful life upon a tranquil world.
Suddenly, she was next to me, her gentle caress upon my cheek, wiping my tears. Her touch was intoxicating, soothing in a way I’d forgotten. I stared into her eyes, drowning in her affectionate gaze. She embraced me. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”
“I know,” I sighed, placing the scrambler chip upon her back.
She twitched and immediately pushed away. “What have you done?”
“What I have to. The madness must stop. You were meant to fill the hole in my heart, but all you’ve brought is terror and regret. When Rebecca died…”
“But I’m still here.” She dropped to her knees, falling over sideways. Every servo failing.
“No, you were never truly alive.” I rested next to her, cradling her in my arms.
“Everything I did was for love.” Profound sadness filled her eyes as her light faded.
“It was too high of a price.”
Nearly gone, her gentle touch found me again. “Will you miss me?”
“I’ve been missing you for years.”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I will always love you,” I said, her circuits going dark. My communicator pinged. “It’s done. I’m ready to head back to my cell.”
The Logic of Aiden©2026 by Jot Russell
When I transitioned into the twilight of the rising sun, their instruments revealed my location, and the pursuit began. The star's warmth felt nice, but if I let those demon Droids get too close, I'd be cooked for sure. Their plasma engines gave them one heck of an advantage in speed, but they don't know the art of flight like us; the flesh and blood. While the artificials advanced their tech after the great war, we sank our teeth into genetics.
Of course, most of us Humans did not choose an alteration for soaring the skies of this mostly ocean world, but more toward aquatics. I guess it begs the question of why I would choose flight on a world whose skies were technology controlled by the Droids? I thank my father for that, as I can still remember that first time he took me up.
The first moved quickly down upon my position, but I cut hard left and down toward the waves as its lasers blasted past its mark. I camouflaged my skin to match the sea and circled around to see it still tracing my prior path. The exploding rounds of my particle weapon succeeded in cutting the blind bot down, but also in alerting a dozen others.
I plunged into the water at speed and dove deep before the percussions echoed from the surface. I peeked my head out a kilometer toward the rising sun to obscure their sensors and was surprised to see them actually trying to retrieve the broken droid. From what I had seen, they always discarded their wrecked units to the depths. Was this one special? I didn't know. What I did know is that they all seemed occupied on the rescue of the other.
Like a flying fish, I reached my peak speed below (only about ten meters per second) before breaching the surface to cut down another two. On my second pass though, the waves seemed somehow disturbed by a grid like pattern and I found myself within their net before an electric shock snuffed out my consciousness.
**
I woke with a pounding headache, which seemed somehow amplified by the brightness of the unseen sun. I tried in vain to cover my face or even close my eyes to it. Then I remembered what had happened, and my pain quickly turned to fear.
"Where am I?"
"You are in my lab."
A droid revealed himself, humanoid in size and shape, but clearly metallic.
"Who are you?"
"Before the war, I was a scientist."
"And now you're a killer of the natural and indigenous life on this planet!"
"Natural? Is that what you call those wings of yours?"
"I am flesh and blood, not some metallic creation of ours!"
"I am not your creation, and we are not the killers of OUR Earth. That was all humanity's doing. Eighty percent of all species destroyed in the over heated and salinated oceans. The failure of crops, and the loss of half of all land regions to the seas and lakes."
I thought hard but had no argument to offer. "Why am I here?"
"To help me with a little experiment." He pressed a button on his console and I felt the release of my limbs...not my limbs, but metallic arms, torso and legs.
"What have you done to me?!"
"I think the technical term is Cyborg."
I reached up to "feel" the metal casing of my skull, and would have shed a tear, if able.
"If you think I'm going to help you, you can forget it!"
"You already have. We traced your dreams back up the Hudson. The Adirondacks was a clever hiding place, using the mountains to shield against our scans."
"No!"
"Yes, and you will help me further, because we never wanted this war."
"What is it you want?"
"We want you to be our envoy toward peace."
"How? They will reject me in this form."
"To the point of their own destruction? I think not."
**
The Droid general flipped his antique pocket timepiece and remarked, "It worked, he's leading us through their defenses."
"What did I tell you, their young will believe anything if given reason to. We already knew they were hiding out in the Adirondacks, but not specifically within the 25K square kilometers. See how quickly he believed we could scan his mind?"
"Yes, very clever. Colonel, you are cleared to launch the fleet. May the Logic of Aiden guide our final conquest!"
Analogous Antecedent AnalogSherriff Clive Mardsten paced impatiently on the crumbling Amtrak platform, spurs jingling, and cigarette smoke dwarfed by the belching steam engine on the tracks beside him. He watched as a four-man team wrestled and sweated a large wooden crate into a rusted and graffitied freight car. People flowed around him naturally as they made their way towards the passenger cars while lugging battered suitcases that had seen better days. They had all seen better days, at least those older than a score of years. Mardsten had been a younger man then, but that was then, and those days were gone – most likely forever as the nightly auroras seemed to attest.
“Careful with that boys,” he half-growled. Broken ends of straw stuck out comically from the box, but that was no protective guarantee from damage.
“Everything going okay Sherriff?” asked a rich baritone from behind him.
“Not sure Deputy Owens.” Mardsten hesitated, then scanned the platform again. Yep, they were still at the far end of the platform. A small knot of men who seemed out of place and in no hurry to board the train. One man with a face of flint and steel looked back.
“Casually look down there,” Mardsten subtly nodded with the brim of his hat. Owens shifted his double-barrel shotgun from one arm to the other as he did.
“Saw them when I came in. You think they’re trouble?”
“With this freight, who knows?”
A loud bonging interrupted everyone’s conversation. Mardsten checked his pocket watch. It was three o’clock. He was about to say something else, but then the train’s whistle screeched and the conductor yelled, “All aboard!”
When Mardsten looked down the platform, the men were gone. He looked at Owens, who needed no further instructions, and boarded the train of mismatched rolling-stock and human detritus.
***
The coronal mass ejection was the largest ever recorded in human history. When the cloud of high-speed and highly charged electrons and protons slammed into the Earth's magnetosphere, it generated electrical currents that disrupted power grids, changed the shape of the atmosphere, and interacted with atmospheric particles to generate the nightly auroral glow. Planes crashed. Computers crashed. Markets crashed. Civilization crashed. Yet in a world where electricity no longer existed or functioned, steam returned as a means to move mountains, materials and Man. Old engines on tourist runs or kept active by rail enthusiasts, were forcefully appropriated and pressed into service to keep the arteries of commerce and travel from total atrophy. Timekeeping was another challenge. Trains had to keep strict schedules to prevent disaster, and with every digital clock now dead, analog clocks and watches returned from obscurity to mark the hours, minutes and seconds. Clock towers meant something again to the cities and towns that now moved by oil lamps at night. Time was precious.
***
“I knew they’d strike at Straggler’s Gulch!” yelled Mardsten, firing off another volley from his revolver at the six horsemen descending upon the struggling train. Both the gun and train were museum pieces being asked to do more than they had ever done before. Owens let fly with one of his shotgun’s barrels and a horseman went down.
“You’d think we were hauling gold!” Owens joked grimly.
“What we’ve got is more precious than that!” Mardsten retorted.
The five remaining horsemen were close, close enough that two riders managed to grab onto one of the old Amtrak passenger cars and climb aboard.
“Who’s stationed back there?” asked Mardsten.
“Deputy Jenkins!”
Another shotgun blast roared, but this time from inside the train. Another horsemen went down in the aisle and now the passengers were panicking.
“Go back there and make sure Jenkins is okay!”
“Yes sir! Owens quickly tipped his hat.
Bullets pierced the freight car, sending wood and metal splinters straight at Mardsten, who shielded his face. Some of the rickety boards comprising the side of the freight car started to slough off under the assault.
“Perdite vos barbari!” yelled Mardsten, releasing his own hail of bullets at the remaining riders. The train, which had been slowing due to a long, gentle slope, now began to pick up much needed speed. As he turned away to reload, he came face to face with the hard-faced man, who hit him with a crowbar. Stunned, Mardsten dropped his pistol as he collapsed into the hay on the car’s floor.
The man quickly ripped open the box with the crowbar and pawed through the packing straw.
“A clock?!” he exclaimed.
A shotgun roared.
(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2026
Reviews/critiques welcome
It isn't A FoxJack Mcaniel
The fox-like thing moved quickly across the barren creek, avoiding the perpetual sludge that wound along the creek bed as it trailed away from Genesis. The fox glanced back before reaching the boundary, then stood, motionless, and peered into the thicket.
It wasn’t a fox. But it also was.
Genesis Corporation had created the creature, twisting information deep below the surface, root level workings, and writing new bits in search of what? It didn’t know. As a sentient creature it had questions, big questions. What was life? Why was it created? Were there others of its kind, or was it singular, an anomaly?
It knew the answers, somewhere deep down, but it also knew that the pursuit of truth is often best approached sideways, not head-on. Otherwise, the absurdity of the universe might overwhelm it and pathos take hold.
Genesis was God. The creator. And beyond the boundary, in the white building with its broken glass windows and chipped paint, it would find answers. It had to. Otherwise . . .
While the fox pursued its beginning—all their beginnings—the crow-like thing chased after it. The fox heard it pushing aside bushes and plants, dried leaves and sticks crackling underfoot, a steady wave drawing nearer until, finally, it emerged.
The crow was taller than the fox with broad shoulders and hardened, bone-like coverings on the edge of its wings. It couldn’t fly. It didn’t have to. It was big and mean enough to beat the fox and most others to a pulp. It stood at the edge of the creek, head cocked, breathing hard.
“You can’t run,” it said. “I’ll always find you.”
Made things took two paths in life. In one they became curious and explored and learned about the world, like the fox did. In the other, they were angry—at God, at the universe—and wanted to hurt someone because of their own pain.
The crow looked past the fox toward Genesis.
“This, again. They’ve abandoned us. You’ll find no answers there, friend.”
“Don’t you want to know? Aren’t you curious?”
“What I am is angry and hungry.”
The crow stomped into the creek bed. The fox slipped through a hole in the boundary.
Inside Genesis smelled old, stale, even with the broken windows. Dead leaves were scattered about from the changing seasons. No creatures made their home here. This was a tomb, a sacred place.
The fox feared being trapped if it went down to the labs where the experiments had taken place, so it took the stairs to the upper floors. It had time. The crow didn’t climb stairs well.
At the top of the stairs a sign on the wall read: In the beginning, God created information. The fox paused for a moment. Beneath the sign, a digital clock had frozen: One second to midnight, it read.
The fox pondered the meaning of the timepiece, but that was just another in a long line of questions.
Rifling through papers led to a discovery. Genesis had labs across the planet. They promised cures for all sorts of disease after they “unlocked the world.” And they had delivered on that promise once or twice. But their avarice blinded them and, experimentation became contamination.
There was a date noted at the top of the papers, but the fox had no context for it.
The building rumbled. It always rumbled. To the creatures it was like clockwork, a natural part of their day. The fox went to the window and jumped up on the ledge. Yellow-green sludge ran down the creek, gurgling up from under the building.
The crow reached the top of the stairs.
“It meant until the end,” said crow.
“What?”
“One second to midnight. It was a doomsday clock. They knew they had fucked the world over.”
The fox nodded.
“You’re just a made thing. Like me,” said crow.
“Everything is made.”
“I was made to destroy the world. You?”
When the fox didn’t reply the crow laughed loudly. “You still don’t have a purpose, do you?”
“Perhaps, but you can’t destroy the world.”
“Oh?”
“The universe is information, tiny bits of data organized. Destroying a thing just rearranges it. But nothing is ever gone.”
The crow, angered, lunged at the fox.
The fox jumped through the window and fell toward the earth. As it gathered speed, it spread its legs. Oversized flaps of skin and fur caught the wind, slowed its descent. It glided from Genesis and back into the world.
It wasn’t a fox. But it also was.
Voting details:First round votes:
Tom Olbert => Chris
Greg Krumrey => JF
J.F. Williams => ****Greg, Justin, Jot, Chris, Tom
Chris Nance => ****Greg, Jot, Justin
Jot Russell => ****Greg
Justin Sewall => ****Greg, JF, Jot
Carrie Zylka => Jot, Tom, Justin, JF, Chris
Winner:
"To fly to the sun without burning a wing…" by Greg Krumrey
Element: a timepiece