Feb 22, 2013 Original Short Stories
The End and the Beginning – A Narrative of a New Race ©By Vijaya Sundaram January 24, 2012
The planet swung around on its appointed course around the sun, dutifully, tiredly, imperceptibly tilting ever more to the right. Lands grew cold and hot and cold and hot again. Forests died, and mountains grew taller. Tsunamis rose up and islands sank. The desert blazed unmercifully. Birds fell out of the sky. Quietly, entire species died, as the decades drifted by like seaweed on dead oceans. The polar caps melted, and methane clouds rose into the air like ghosts promising a holocaust of fire, ready to ignite, ready to unleash their fierce tendrils of blazing death on the straggling populations of weary humans who eked out their lives in the few safe places on earth.
It was into such a world that the Stranger came drifting through the clouds in her vehicle from a faraway universe.
The Stranger stood, light as air on her feet, straddling continents, and gazing hopelessly around, while the vehicle blended into the very air, so as not to set off any methane into instability. Fire-power was not what propelled her vehicle. What propelled her vehicle was a substance which had no name, and would never be discovered by humans.
Sorrow filled her face as she looked at the tiny dwellings of the people huddled in the mountains, the history of the rise and fall of the human race in their eyes, as they gazed about them at the increasingly hostile world they had inherited from their rapacious forbears. Clad in their animal skins, in shelters of scrub and brush, they gazed around, their scarred visages showing apathy and absolute despair. Scattered around them were the bones of animals, and small straggling fields of corn. There was no evidence of fire.
I should never have seeded this planet, she thought to herself. I should have gone to another star system. This very planet is fighting my descendants. The planet hates them. The planet wants to shake them off like fleas. What shall I do?
And an idea came to her. To make it all happen, she needed a hundred years or two. Time passed, as time does. Eventually, what she wanted, willed, worked for, happened. The planet straightened itself to the exact tilt necessary for life to sustain itself. All the methane released from the melting of snows on polar caps was gathered up into her spacecraft, excess carbon dioxide powered it, and fresh, oxygen-rich air swirled hopefully around the planet. Rains fell, tides rose and ebbed in predictable patterns, and new, green forests sprang up where they hadn’t been for a while.
Humans in the tropics looked around them, and saw fresh green where there hadn’t been any for decades. Polar caps began to freeze again. Others on the far northern ends of continents looked up and felt snowflakes falling. Nobody knew what it was, but it felt good.
And the migrations began. But this time, things were different. This time, the earth purred. Humans weren’t fleas. Humans were benign extensions of earth’s self. They lived with nature, freely, joyously. Then, they discovered the use of fire. This time, something held them back. They looked up. The sun smiled down.
And though it all started all over again, humans had evolved. Their bodies held all the heat and light, air and water they needed. A new race began, straightened its shoulders and rose up into the air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Beginning~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, Aliens, Beginnings, Climate Change, Endings, Evolution, Human Life, Planet Earth, Strangeres
Feb 22, 2013 Original Short Stories
Dreams from Snow – A Short Story
© By Vijaya Sundaram
Dec. 19th, 2008
The snow drifted down like a dream about to dissolve.
Kevin wandered out of his apartment in the tenement building, in search of his friend. He knocked on the door, and heard shouts inside, shouts and a smack, as of a hand connecting with a face.
He knocked again, louder. The door opened a crack, and a scared face peeped out. It was his friend, Drew. “They’re fighting again, Kev,” he said, his eyes big and scared, “I’m scared.”
“Come out with me. It’s snowing. Come on!” whispered the little boy.
“Okay. Wait. I’ll be out – I’m not telling them,” said Drew, and withdrew, shutting the door. The voices within continued shouting.
In a few minutes, when the door opened quietly again, Drew was dressed in his outer layers, his snow jacket and boots, hand-me-downs, clearly, but still warm enough. There were tears in his eyes. There was a red mark on his cheek, as if a hand had landed there. He had a bruise on his forehead. There were still shouts and noises inside, and the sound of flung objects.
“You okay? What’s goin’ on?” asked Kev.
“The same. I don’t want to be at home,” said Drew.
Kev put his arms around Drew. “I’m your friend,” he said, and together they walked into the snow.
They played in the snow, making snowmen in the front of their apartment building, while a few older kids wandered about throwing snowballs at each other, shrieking with laughter.
The snow drifted down all afternoon, and the dream deepened, didn’t dissolve. They built snow-forts, and made believe that they were polar-bear warriors in the land of snow and ice.
Evening fell. They were cold and hungry now.
Drew’s eyes grew round and scared again. “I don’t want to go back,” he said, “I’m scared.”
“Don’t go. I’ll ask my mom if you can stay with us,” said Kev.
They went to Kev’s house, where his mother took in everything at a glance, and didn’t ask too many questions. She’d seen enough in her life to know what she saw, and while she was gentle, she was also tough. She made them hot cocoa, and fixed them a large cheese-grilled sandwich each. They sat companionably together on pillows on the floor, eating their sandwiches, drinking their hot cocoa, watching Sesame Street on the little television in the living room. Kev’s mother sat, her ample frame taking up a lot of the couch, book in hand, occasionally looking over at the boys, her large brown eyes filled with worry and tenderness.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at their door, and a voice, shouted, “Open up!”
Kev’s mother opened the door a crack, and looked out.
“Drew’s in there, isn’t he? Send him out, or I’m calling the police,” came the angry voice of Drew’s mother.
“I’m not coming with you! I don’t want to go home,” cried Drew, holding on to his friend’s hand. “I want to stay here forever! I hate you and I hate my father!”
Drew’s mother pushed the door open, walked right in and grabbed hold of her trembling son. “You’d better come home right now, or else,” she yelled. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was a tangled mess. Her dress was stained as if food might have been flung at her.
Kev’s mother said in a steady voice, “Calm yourself, Miz Wright! Take a breath. Do you see your son’s bruises? I should report you! Take a breath. Why bother to come for him? Do you really want him home?”
Mercy Wright took a deep, shuddering breath, and suddenly looked defeated. “I have no one. He’s mine.”
“Then take care of him!” said Kev’s mother. She folded her arms across her chest. Her voice was stern, but her eyes were kind.
Mercy Wright looked at Drew, let go of his hand, and said simply, “Do you want to come home now? I’m sorry. I won’t let your Dad hit you. I won’t let him come near us. We can go away, if you like. I promise.”
Drew said, timidly, “Will we really go away? Why do you want me, momma?”
She burst into tears. “You’re my son.”
Drew understood. He went up to her, and put his little arms around her tired, worn-out frame. “I love you, Momma,” he said. He took her hand, suddenly grown-up, all of six years of age.
He turned to Kev and Kev’s mother, who said, “Will you be okay? We’re always here, if you need us.
Drew nodded and said, “Yes, thank you for everything, Mrs. Armstrong. Thanks, Kev.”
Kev gave Drew a hug. Patti Armstrong pulled him into a warm embrace, her eyes bright.
Drew left, with his hand still in his mother’s hand. Outside, the snow drifted down still, like a dream about to dissolve.
Kevin looked out the window and watched his friend and Mrs. Armstrong make their way through the snowy path. He hoped his friend would stay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, #Original Short Story, Friendship, parental neglect and abuse, reconciliation, Snow