K R Smith: May 2019

Thursday, May 16, 2019

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 107

Just a reminder: It’s okay to leave comments!

This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. This is from Miranda's post:

This week's photo prompt was taken by Russian photographer Daniel Kordan - he has some incredible pictures, definitely worth checking out his site.

Have you sussed what this is yet? It's not some strange photoshopped image, it's actually a photo of an ice cave being illuminated by a flare - an ice cave in Kamchatka in the Far East of Russia. He explored under the glacier near the Mutnovsky volcano. You can read about it here.

Here's a link to the prompt photo.

Yet another sci-fi tale this week.

Please note that anyone can join in with a story up to 750 words. Mine has 462 words for those who are counting (not including the title and byline).

There is a downloadable PDF version of the story on my Patreon site.

Crack the Sky

K. R. Smith

"An ominous sign, to be sure," Glornacht said. His eyes scanned the sharp lines cutting through the hazy red hues glowing above.

"Hasn't anyone climbed up the cliffs to understand what's going on?"

"You're not from this place, David, and you must learn our ways. It would be considered presumptuous for a mortal to ascend the mountains. That is the domain of the Everlasting Ones. We have been provided for here, and here we will stay."

"How can a sky crack, Glornacht?" David adjusted the universal translator hoping the meaning of his words might come through somehow. "How?"

"It happens from time to time. I've read of such events in our chronicles. We go deep into the underworld until it is safe again."

"How long will that be?"

"It is difficult to say. A hundred cycles, or a thousand." Glornacht shrugged. "Perhaps more. When it pleases the Everlasting Ones, we will return."

David hung his head. "Let me explain again. I've been above what you call the sky. It's not the sky at all. It's a huge sheet of ice on a world we call Mars. The only reason you can live here is because the rocks shield you from radiation, the ice sheet locks in an atmosphere, and enough ice melts to provide you with water. And now, for whatever reason, that ice sheet is cracking. When it comes tumbling down, many of your people will be injured or killed."

Glornacht looked at the visitor and smiled. "Though I don't understand all your words, what would you have us do? Leave? Even if we were allowed to do so, the place you describe beyond the sky would not support our bodies."

"So, you'll remain here to die—all because of some ancient superstition?"

"Superstition? Perhaps. But we will not die. From what you tell us, we have survived, even thrived here, longer than species has existed. And why did your people leave their home to come to this place? Because your world is failing. At your own hand, I might add."

David had no reply.

"I know you're trying to help, and we are grateful, but it might be best if you helped yourself first." Glornacht put his three-fingered hand on David's shoulder. "And, of course, you—and those with you—are welcome to join us. The Everlasting Ones do not mind, I can assure you."

David looked into Glornacht's eyes. Only six months since landing and the colony was already in trouble. Farming, energy generation, even waste disposal was more difficult than they had ever imagined. Water was critically low. They had investigated the ice sheets as an easy way to obtain a suitable supply. How could he explain that, this time, he was the reason their sky was cracking?

While you're here...

Author Troy Blackford and his family is having a difficult time due to the potentially fatal illness of one of his sons. Help him out if you can. You can also find him on Twitter.

Author Terri Deno has a new book of poetry available: If It Was New York, Summer 2009. Please consider purchasing a copy. Writing is her only means of support, so let's support her writing!

Thanks!

Sunday, May 5, 2019

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 105

Just a reminder: It’s okay to leave comments!

This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. This is from Miranda's post:

Today's picture prompt was created by Norwegian artist Erlend Monk. He has a few of these, and many images I find intriguing. I might just have to return to use more.

Here's a link to the prompt photo.

Another sci-fi tale (with a touch of horror) this week. It may have even borrowed the germ of an idea from Miranda's own Slipping Through.

Please note that anyone can join in with a story up to 750 words. Mine has 544 words for those who are counting (not including the title and byline).

There is a downloadable PDF version of the story on my Patreon site.

Dark Dreams

by K. R. Smith

We were just being silly, letting our imaginations run wild. That's what they told us. Whatever we were seeing couldn't be real. Even if it was understandable, being isolated in a remote star system, working long hours and often alone. Of course, that sort of concern had no place in the corps. We needed to get on with our jobs. After all, not a single person had been harmed and there was no proof of any other large indigenous life forms on the planet. It was all in our minds, like some childish ghost story.

The higher-level technical types, the engineers and such, scoffed at our concerns. They didn't believe in spirits or phantoms, but then again, they were always safe and sound within the ship orbiting above. We were on the ground. They never experienced the fleeting, nebulous blur that seemed to follow along as we set up the sensors. Or the dark, wispy swirl of smoke that appeared from time to time out of the corner of an eye. Perhaps, they suggested, it was the low oxygen levels, or maybe the higher levels of cosmic radiation, that cause these visual aberrations. Without evidence, what could be done? Never so much as a footprint or bent twig had been found.

Still, at the insistence of the forward landing party, it was agreed they would look into the matter, if only to appease our concerns. Or humor us, I suppose. Despite their own opinions, they appeared to be professional, and quite deliberate, during the investigation. Yet neither the instruments, nor any of the surveillance cameras, detected anything. There were anomalies, of course, but there always are, aren't there?

Yes, it was all in our minds, they assured us. And they were right.

It was only by accident, while scanning for background radiation, that we began to understand. The instrument had been improperly set to detect frequencies far lower than intended, below ten hertz, the range covering theta brainwaves. Whenever an apparition appeared, there was a spike in this spectrum. It took us a while to figure out. As they slipped in or out of their interdimensional hiding places, this jump induced a vision, a dark, blurry dream as it were, directly into our brain. Once they knew we had a way of detecting them, they no longer concerned themselves with hiding. That made it all the worse. They were quick to turn this ability of mental induction into endless torment.

And now we were trapped. The ship had departed orbit to resupply. It would be three months before it returned, three months of fighting an enemy both around us, and within, too. We had come to colonize this planet. Unfortunately, they had, too.

So, there were no ghosts, no specters, no lost, wandering spirits. That would have been far easier to deal with than a never-ending nightmare that comes after you even when you're awake. The drugs help a little, I suppose, but you can't turn your mind off completely. Well, you can, and it's a dark thought, one that's has been whispered among a few on the team. I'm not sure if it's courage that allows a person do that—or desperation that would drive one there.

Three months is a long time.