fantasy - BLOGS - Blacksciencefictionsociety
2024-03-29T15:49:48Z
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/feed/tag/fantasy
"Priestess of the Lost Colony", a tale blending alternate history and magical realism
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/priestess-of-the-lost-colony
2021-05-04T20:32:35.000Z
2021-05-04T20:32:35.000Z
Brandon Scott Pilcher
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/members/BrandonPilcher
<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/8893328679?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><p><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZbQlx3mE5S8" width="560" height="315" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></p><p><em><strong>A headstrong Egyptian priestess, her brother, their sacked colony—and a rescue mission.</strong></em></p><p><em>When Itaweret’s beloved Per-Pehu falls to the tyrannical Scylax, she and her brother Bek lead a mission to save her captured people and depose Scylax. Along the way, they run into all kinds of perils, friends, and foes—and beasts sent by an angry goddess. Set in ancient Greece 3,500 years ago, this is a tale blending magical realism with history, high adventure with discovery . . . and Itaweret’s determination to save her people while learning her heart’s desires and realizing her deeper purpose.</em></p><p>This is the tale of <em>Priestess of the Lost Colony</em>, my debut novel. You can purchase your very own copy, either digital or paperback, <a href="http://openbookspress.com/books/priestess-of-the-lost-colony.php" target="_blank">here</a> on the publisher's website or at your favorite online retailer!</p></div>
Dave's Special
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/dave-s-special
2020-08-08T02:01:35.000Z
2020-08-08T02:01:35.000Z
Thaddeus
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/members/Thaddeus
<div><div> </div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7338315055,RESIZE_930x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}7338315055,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="710" alt="7338315055?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>Flash Fiction by <a href="http://thowze.carrd.co" target="_blank">Thaddeus Howze<br /></a></span></div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>500 Words</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Are you going to eat that? I'm starving." The voice, like caged thunder, rumbled as Harold held his head in his hands.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Knock yourself out."</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>A pair of twisted tentacles composed of degenerate exotic matter reached across the dimensional divide and hefted the Dave's Special. Surprised by the effort necessary, one tentacle removed the lumpy Kaiser roll to peer into the confines within; heaped with fixings, sporting an array of meats, sauces, twisted slab bacon, with tiny poppy seeds scattered across the top.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>Amen-mat, with his one enormous eye, grew dizzy staring at the huge sandwich. It took several tugs to drag it across the dimensional boundary into his four-dimensional space. Between bouts of enthusiastic chewing, Amen asked "What's wrong, old man?"</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>Harold sat up. "I can't pay the rent." The corner he was looking into was filled with newspapers. Harold was a hoarder. No, not the kind that lives with fifty cats. He was worse than that. Harold was the neat and reasonable kind. Piles, organized with tabs, dates, and locations; a clean and functional chaos. Yet it still disturbed people when they came to see him. After a while they just stopped. </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>It left more time for him to focus on his conflict with Amen-mat, inter-dimensional invader and game aficionado. The two moved through the apartment engaged in multiple forms of warfare across the centuries; chess, Go, Parcheesi, backgammon and Mastermind. No game was too small or strange. Alone for decades, a shut-in, Harold played chess alone until Amen-mat, during an invasion to subjugate the Earth, manifested in his loft to play chess.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"We talked about this a few years ago," Amen offered.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"No. I am not coming to live with you." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Why not? You'd have an entire dimension to yourself." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Because I know what you are." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"A soul-devouring monster feasting on Human greed and suffering." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Yes. There's that." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"That's not the deal-breaker?"</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"No. People who make deals with monsters get what they deserve." </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Then, what's the problem?" </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"What about my stuff? What about Dave's? You don't have a Dave's there, do you?" </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"No. And after eating that last one, I understand why you would be slow to leave. But I have an idea. Let's start moving your stuff." Harold twitched involuntarily as multiple tentacles appeared all over the room and began to size up the task. </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>"Don't worry, I won't change a thing. I promise." By the end of the day, the house was empty, walls scrubbed sporting a light lavender scent; security deposit reclaimed, Harold Turner moved out of his flat an into an entire dimension of his own, separate from Amen-Mat's. </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>Meanwhile, at Dave's, a corner light blows and can't be repaired. Sandwiches disappear. Minutes later, money appears to pay for the purloined hoagie. A pragmatic man, Dave never questions. The tentacle was, for all of its strangeness, a generous tipper. </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>On rainy evenings when business is slow, he occasionally hears the word 'checkmate', followed by free-rolling thunder which sounds suspiciously like laughter between old friends.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span> </span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>-----------------------------------------------------------------</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>WRITING PROMPT: HUMOUR/COMEDY<br />Your story must include a sandwich.<br />Your story cannot be longer than 500 words<br /></span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>Your story must include the following five words: <br />DIZZY, EXOTIC, LUMPY, TINY, TWISTED.</span></div></div><div><div class="_1mf _1mj"><span>-----------------------------------------------------------------</span></div></div></div>
The Bone Fairy
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/the-bone-fairy
2020-07-26T18:17:21.000Z
2020-07-26T18:17:21.000Z
Thaddeus
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/members/Thaddeus
<div><div id="js_5s4" class="_5pbx userContent _3576"><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Fantasy Horror Flash Fiction By <a href="http://thowze.carrd.co" target="_blank">Thaddeus Howze</a></span></p><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7141511096,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}7141511096,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="648" alt="7141511096?profile=RESIZE_710x" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"You have to leave him." The matter of fact tone left nothing to the imagination. It wasn't a command, but it wasn't a request. It had all the finality of the grave.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">The captain's black eyes gave no quarter among the remnant of twenty men, of which only five remained. If it meant all of their lives, this mission would be done.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">He touched the small box for the hundredth time, again hidden inside his armor, an object worth more than all of their lives, twice. Its dark radiance burned into his chest and a phlegm-filled cough followed as he thought about it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"But sir," Lon began, "he can still walk." The farm boy staggered a bit under his bigger companion's weight but he wanted to make a case which seemed reasonable.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Alirr, the giant of this group held up the other side of Sdi, the Quick, two of his best warriors saddled with the dead weight of a third.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"Captain. I understand. I would only endanger the mission. I will do my best to hold out here until you can secure passage," Sdi responded cuffing his friends in the process.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">They knew they could not stay with him. The two eased him down next to an ironwood tree, a fortune behind his head, if he could survive to get it to the border of the forest. Without an army of men, nothing ever does. The Denetheian Forest, a place of mystery, despair and disappearances. Few who ever entered it, leave.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">It was only the desperation of men with nothing but legend to fall upon, came to seek, her. Tylwyth Teg Esgyrn, in the old tongue, fools who lived on the edge of this dire wood, called her the Bone Fairy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">A being so fell, it is claimed to have destroyed an entire army which sought to claim this forest for their own. A fortune in ironwood, they would the most formidable armor and weapons anywhere.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">They marched upon the forest, or so the legends went, with pomp and pageantry. The former kingdom of Deneth, for which this forest gained its name, and reputation. The elves and other creatures which lived in this forest became legends that night.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">It was said by the few survivors, the battle between the Fey and Men was awe-inspiring, its like having been seen only a few times in recorded history. The Men who survived claimed they were within the reach of victory when their army began to fall.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">It was a wind which swept through the ranks, and as it passed, armor rustled, weapons flickered and fell flat to the ground, surrounding skin and twitching organs, which spasmed pitifully, mewling like tortured beasts, before they bubbled and fell silent, moments later, rustling among the grass, until the twitching fell silent.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">At first, the men didn't understand what they were seeing, the wind came from the trees, leaves rustling, a sudden burst of movement and wave after wave of the Human army fell, for all intents and purposes dead, boneless.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">The army's morale broke in light of this unexpected magic, unlike anything they knew existed. They tried to flee. Only those who made it to the edge of the forest survived. Some were partially affected and lost limbs, with flesh that needed to be cut away, because the bones simply vanished as they were fleeing the forest.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Of ten thousand, less than two hundred returned home. As they fled, they were told to leave the valley and never return. Or the same thing would happen to everyone who remained in three days.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">No Man has lived in this valley for a hundred years, and few dared to tread here except in the brightest of days with the boldest of Men. The lure of Ironwood was the one thing men would risk life and limb for. And often did.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Now with three men, The Captain Hathor was to return to this legendary slaughterhouse in search of this mythic horror.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">As he turned back to his men setting up camp, he feels a cold wind coming from the direction they are headed. As he turns to his men, he watches them slump, flopping bonelessly to the ground, their moist gurgling their final warning.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Hathor turned back and saw it. A creature of bones and wings, twice the size of a man, a mouth filled with teeth who dreamed of being sharper teeth, the creature floated silently, whispering into and out of sight. Smaller lights fluttered around it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">One of the smaller lights flew to Hathor's face and it appeared to be a tiny woman with flickering wings. It would have been beautiful save its otherworldly aura, its sharp and toothy grin and the more horrifying and larger version which accompanied it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">A tiny voice rang out. "The Queen has accepted your tribute. Make your case and be quick about it, Human."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">Reaching into his coat he pulls forth a black diamond, the size of a quail's egg. It shone with a nacreous inner light, and the smaller creatures shied away, vanishing into the forest.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"Are you this desperate you would try to geas me into service?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"We are. We need your help, your terrible majesty." The captain squeezed the gem and he began to age, weaken and fell to his knees. "We would draft you into our service because what is coming is a thousand times worse than you. We would dare anything."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">The Queen, flickered trying to escape the geas forming around her, its black tendrils holding on to her no matter where she shifted, no matter how hard she moved between worlds, the spell found her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">"Go west, your majesty. You will see it. You cannot help but. We geas you to help us, because when they are done with us, they will come for you."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">The captain, now an old man, falls over, becoming dust as the spell, the magical compunction now delivered, the Queen had been bound and would go west, whether she wanted to or not.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">She screamed, her howl heard across the forest. Then she considered the feast ahead as she sent her minions to blacken the sky before her. Wars were always such good eating.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:12pt;">The Bone Fairy © Thaddeus Howze, 2019</span></p></div></div>
Ancient Illumination Graphic Novel Volume 1!
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/ancient-illumination-graphic-novel-volume-1
2020-07-21T19:14:10.000Z
2020-07-21T19:14:10.000Z
Rod Van Blake
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/members/RodVanBlake
<div><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/7080927452?profile=RESIZE_400x&width=400"></div><div><p>Hello science fiction and fantasy fans! The graphic novel for Ancient Illumionation Volume 1 Remembrance and Revolt written by Rod Van Blake, Illustrated by Jordan P. Jackson is available on Kindle and <a href="http://https//www.amazon.com/gp/f.html?C=3H2LPF1KR809A&K=2V7V9P715WKIC&M=urn:rtn:msg:202006181500098f80c8e1b4164a15b2b55a8a0ec0p0na&R=1ASXGBOVS392B&T=C&U=https%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2F2ClxWUL&H=Z4D4DWTAJ6MYC1BZX1FH75GBJVKA" target="_blank">ComiXology</a> digitally right now! All three novels are available on both <a href="http://https//www.amazon.com/Rod-Van-Blake/e/B07G8XP7F5?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595358434&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and Barnes & Noble. For individual books you can go to those vendors but for signed copies of all three plsu some extra art look for the instructions on my author web site for<a href="http://http//ancientillumination.net/" target="_blank">Ancient Illumination</a>. If you enjoy space opera, first contact, military scifi or like genres I emplore you to check my stuff out. It's based on beings made of pure light coming to Earth during the days of Cro-Magnon and one gets exiled here forced to enlighten the inhabitants. Mutations happen as a result of the alien experimenting and he watches us all have various confilcts over our differences. It's a what if scenario I expanded on. I loved reading Star Wars stories but knew that since I did not own it I could never really control where the story went and therefore decided to create my own saga with my perspectives in mind. In the [ast while at various conventions some would tell me they liked the idea but didn't want to read literary works so we eventually found an artist to illustrate for me. I will be doing a kickstarter for the physical version so we can produce more copies and to start production of volume 2! We need to keep our stories going! This graphic novel is 56 full color pages based on the novels and yet a different experience from them. The kickstarter will launch in September and we are trying to build as much momentum as possible heading towards that time. The first tier will be for a character print, the second is for a 11X17 print of a scene from the books, third is for the physical copy of the graphic novel itself and lastly the final tier will be for the signed graphic novel and a military challenge coin. All my veterans will know what I am talking about. Peace, Love and light to you all!</p><p><a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ancientillumination/ancient-illumination-volume-1" target="_blank">Link to kickstarter coming soon</a></p><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7081392669,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}7081392669,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" width="513" height="385" alt="7081392669?profile=RESIZE_710x" />Click on the link above our picture to be notified when the kickstarter goes live!</a></p></div>
Praxis
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blogs/praxis
2012-04-01T17:30:00.000Z
2012-04-01T17:30:00.000Z
Thaddeus
https://blacksciencefictionsociety.com/members/Thaddeus
<div><p> </p><div class="date"> <span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;"><em><a href="http://hubcityblues.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/destiny_city_by_ralasterphecy.jpg"><img class="alignleft wp-image-662" title="Destiny_City_by_ralasterphecy" src="http://hubcityblues.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/destiny_city_by_ralasterphecy.jpg?w=412&h=640" alt="" width="412" height="640" /></a></em></span></div><div class="entry"><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;"><em>a tale of the twilight continuum</em></span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Shubert cupped his hands over his cyborg ears; the rumbling in the city’s throat was seismic and desperate. The ground shook as Theriopolis uprooted itself, and Shubert, Chief Technocrat Second Class, stained his velvet pantaloons. The animal city was calling for a mate.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Had it really been a decade?</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Klaxons sounded in the distance and people began running for the edges of the city as the rumblings increased. The alarms were weak and anemic sounding against the bestial roar of the city. They had been warned. Why were they still here? The holy calendars stressed and reiterate when mating seasons would occur. A young city like Theriopolis mated relatively frequently.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">The howls of the city, the rumbling as the city shrugged off its relationship with the earth, terrified all who could hear it. A sonorous vibration barely audible grew in intensity until it was a fevered shriek as multiple orifices belched forth sulfuric steam. Those orifices used to be homes.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Shubert, chief technocrat second class had not wanted this job. The title seduced him and made him believe he could control the city and the people. As he ran through the streets to the central stem, he was the only person running into the city as others fled, with bags hastily packed, clothing and toys dragging behind them or left strewn in the street.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Their faces revealed their manic terror. They knew what happened when cities mated, lives were lost, homes destroyed. They thought they had more time. The calendars were almost never wrong. And they weren’t wrong this time, there was simply not enough information to make an educated guess. Theriopolis was male, well, the scientists considered it male, it was so hard to remember what scientists are talking about when they prattle on about the mating habits of cities. Living on Praxis was harder than anyone thought it would be.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Shubert thought about the holy litanies that talked about the arrival on Praxis.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">The great starship, <em>Praxis </em>came from a world far from this one across the sea of stars from a dying planet. A world of blackened skies and dead seas. The Last People put aside their wars, their hatreds for last chance at life. A holy woman working on the Mountain saw how to part the seas of space and make it possible for all the Last People to have a new chance at life.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">The seas of space were more turbulent than we knew. Great Praxis was thrown off course but nothing could be done. We slept within her unable to help. We wandered. Praxis was battered, her hull damaged, her Mind corrupted. We nearly drifted right out of the galaxy. Praxis woke up once more before that happened because she saw a signal of life and reached out to it. As that ancient Mind calculated its last, it woke us and we saw the cities.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">We thought we were saved. We couldn’t know about the cities then. We woke in orbit and saw the cities and thought they were inhabited. Their lights on twinkling, giant circles on the dark side of the planet. We thought there were billions already living there. The planet’s air was thinner than home, but we were sure we could breath it. Without Praxis there was no way to leave this planet, the mad woman’s drive system was linked to it. To honor both the Mind and the woman, we named our new home, Praxis. We hoped our new neighbors wouldn’t mind.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">We crashed on the southern continent, near the equator. We avoided landing on any cities. We had no idea how fortuitous that was. Sanchez, oh intrepid Sanchez was the first man on our new world. He lead us to the cities and they were magnificent, even from a distance. Spires of lights, massive structures whose lines and beauty enthralled us all. We still have images from that time and those mighty cities were some of the largest the world had ever known.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">They were uninhabited. Not a soul. Not an artifact. Nothing. No idea of who would make such beautiful buildings, and fill them with such beautiful light. The buildings were hard, hard as diamonds, so we built things from the nature on the edges of the cities. We moved into our homes and were grateful for the respite.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Then our natures surged again and there was discord. But there was plenty of room on this world and our explorations found other cities were uninhabited as well. So our fractious element left to move to a nearby city and start their lives their way. We don’t remember caused the conflict but they were the first Martyrs. We recite their names even today as a reminder of our fragile state.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Shubert reached the center of the city. He descended into the heart of the city. until he found the remnants of the Great Mind that was once Praxis. It was a small thing, no larger than a briefcase, but it had the history of two worlds on it and was the most important artifact that remained of a once powerful civilization.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Praxis, can you stabilize the city’s metabolism. We need more time for evacuation.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“I am sorry Second Technocrat Shubert, this city has grown to a point that I can no longer control it.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“We are losing control of them faster and faster. The scientist are not sure what is causing it. Begin extraction of your core.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Shubert, we must discuss what must be done. It is clear I can no longer maintain or protect the Last People. Another way must be found to live on Praxis. The cities are not a feasible alternative. They are uncontrollable and in their mating as dangerous to us as the more natural parts of the planet.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“We cannot move the Last People out of the city. Predation from outside the city would make short work of us. As it is we are barely able to survive past the ten days it takes for two cities to coalesce.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“You are not understanding me, Shubert. The cities are in a growth phase. They will only get larger and mate more frequently.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“The Last People have grown strong and numerous, we need more space, so how can that be a bad thing?”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“At last count, there are 250,000 People. Theriopolis was supporting them but just barely. If he chooses either of the two nearest colonies, it will end up creating a structure that could house millions.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“I still don’t see the problem.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Shubert, you are the oldest of the people who remain and one of the only ones who survived from the First Pilgrimage. You were awakened last as your technocratic abilities were needed. Have you seen the litanies from the First Apocalypse?”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“No. I never had time with all of the studying of the Cities.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Sit down. What I will show you will be shocking.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Shubert watched the litanies in horror even as the howls of Threriopolis grew more terrible and insistent.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Uncoupling complete. You have approximately ten minutes before Theriopolis becomes ambulatory. Another five before he begins to move. You don’t want to be here when that happens. Head to the rendezvous and defensive structures sites.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“What is the point, Praxis?”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Because your ancestors, indeed your compatriots did not cross the vast gulf of space, brave the destruction of their world, resist their destructive urges long enough to reach this place, land and survive on this planet for you to give up hope now. Those people are depending on you.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“You just told me when these cities finish moving together they will reach critical mass and explode, spreading spores, in this case the size of buildings all across the planet. And they will do this in less than one hundred years. And you have also let me know on top of that, you will not be around to help us much longer.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“That sums up the challenge quite adequately.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“And you want me to tell these people the life we have lead for a thousand years must end and we must turn away from our technology, the beauty of the city and head off into a hostile alien jungle, so that in a hundred years we can be as far away from this cataclysm as possible.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Yes.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Remind me when I get off of this beast to stop and change my pants.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“Why would that matter?</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“If I am going to have to stop and tell everyone their way of life is over, I would like to do it without looking like I just voided my bowels.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“I can see your point.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“How long before you go offline, permanently?”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">“About twenty years. What the Last People haven’t learned by then will be lost forever.”</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Second Technocrat Shubert fled Theriopolis carrying the dying shadow of the greatest Mind ever created. As he leapt away from the rapidly rising diamonesque streets of Theriopolis, a momentary pang of regret came over him as he realized many of the Last People would never live long enough to know the comfort of a City, no matter how terrifying they may be when they are mating.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;">Changing his clothes, Second Technocrat Shubert, the most well read, highly trained and defacto leader of the Last People, survivor of a starfaring race, who had struggled against all odds to cross the sea of stars, crash landed and discovered a world barely within their comprehension, considered how to break the news of a century of camping and the greatest fireworks display they would ever know and to make that the <em>good</em> news.</span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;"><em><em><span style="font-family:georgia, palatino;font-size:medium;">National Short Story Month 2012 (1)</span></em><br /> </em></span></p><p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family:georgia, palatino;"><em>Praxis © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved</em></span></p></div></div>