Exodus, complete

Here's the whole Exodus story. Made a few changes in the original half. Very close to my dream, with a few enhancements.

The end was near.  I could feel it more every day.  Everyone could.  My skin felt thinner, breathing was a little more difficult, and the sky – even the air – had an unearthly orange tint.  I could see it in everyone’s eyes; fear, despair and barely tamped down hysteria.  It was as though humanity, or what was left of it, had managed to reconnect through that ancient link. We all knew everything through this link somehow, as if the coming obliteration of humankind had turned on some sensor in our brains that had previously lay dormant. Now every nerve ending could pick up the message from the universe pulsing around us like the beat of a broken conveyor belt, slapping ever slower as the machine loses speed.  It was as if the Milky Way itself were coming unwound and spinning erratically off kilter through the stars coming to rest unspooled in some forgotten corner of the universe.

            Many had already died, and those of us who were left walked aimlessly as though in a trance; butterflies with broken wings fluttering along at the whim of the wind, vainly trying to stay airborne. But even as it appeared we were going nowhere, there was a pattern to our paths; an unseen force pushing us towards the same destination. As dry leaves rattle and scrape against each other when borne on a chill fall wind, we were piling up inexorably into a forgotten corner of Earth, rustling and restless.  We were slow trails of human ants. But even as I moved forward I had the uneasy feeling that something was out of place, missing. My brain was numb to sorting out the confusion in my mind. All thought was instead focused on our destination.

            It soon became clear. Strangely, through that ancient link we had all realized it at precisely the same moment. When the massive alien craft came into view and hovered near our location, we moved as one accord, knowing that this would be the ticket off our dying planet – a Noah’s Ark of humankind. And tickets we did receive.  Officials handed them out at a gate, and I wondered offhandedly how they came about their task. Where had they turned their resume into? Who had hired them? But more importantly, how could they decide who was a deserving ticket holder?

            Like waiting for some perverse Disney ride, we queued up and clicked through the turnstile one by one, receiving tickets from scrutinizing gatekeepers. All the while the massive disc hung suspended in the air, humming and flashing. An expectant hum of human noise added to the vibrating undercurrent. As I inched closer to the turnstile entrance, I began to notice another line next to our own, this one filled with weeping, hysterical people that were being held back by the officials and the uneasiness at the back of my mind flared anew. Who were these people undeserving of a ticket? A moment of panic ensued when I wondered if I would be deserving; if the gatekeepers would even let me through the turnstile, or decide that I was in the wrong line.

            At last it was my turn. I stepped up to the official, my stomach in knots as I wondered if he would let me through or relocate me to the line of hungry eyed non-ticket holders. A quick glance at my face and he handed me a ticket, allowing me to pass. I moved quickly in case he decided to change his mind and call me back. I joined the lines of human ants, five wide, as they moved to the double wide gangplank that led to the gaping maw that was the opening of the craft. Slowly, shuffling feet inched forward. But there was no hurry now, no sense of impatience. We were the chosen ones after all; our tickets were in hand. A strange hush was over us as we prepared to board the ship; each person inside his own thoughts.

            Even as I moved forward to board the alien craft, the niggling on the edges of my consciousness continued. I strained to remember, casting about in the dark corners of my mind for the missing piece. A sound from the turnstiles below dragged my thoughts back into focus. Looking down, the missing piece I had strained to find fell with a loud and heavy clunk into my brain. There below me, struggling to fight past the officials was a girl with no ticket in her hand – my daughter. A strangled cry escaped me, and I turned back, shoving and pushing the masses of people coming toward me. There was no more fear, no more questions for me about where I was going and what my fate would be. Pushing and struggling through the people who were planning to leave this Earth I wondered if they also had loved ones they had forgotten about? Was the line with no exit those forgotten? Stumbling the last few feet back to the turnstiles, I climbed over the one that had only a few moments ago let me through to what I thought was freedom. Falling into an embrace with my daughter, I felt the universe speed up again. 

Exodus

Here's another sci-fi piece I've been working on. Yes, another one from a dream I had. Still not finished with it, but will post the second half soon.

 The end was near.  I could feel it more every day.  Everyone could.  My skin felt thinner, breathing was a little more difficult, and the sky – even the air – had an unearthly orange tint.  I could see it in everyone’s eyes; fear, despair and barely tamped down hysteria.  It was as though humanity, or what was left of it, had managed to reconnect through that ancient link. We all knew everything through this link somehow, as if the coming obliteration of humankind had turned on some sensor in our brains that had previously lay dormant. Now every nerve ending could pick up the message from the universe pulsing around us like the beat of a broken conveyor belt, slapping ever slower as the broken machine loses speed.  It was as if the Milky Way itself were slowly coming unwound and spinning erratically off kilter through the stars slowly coming to rest unspooled in some forgotten corner of the universe.

            Many had already died, and those of us who were left walked aimlessly as though in a trance; butterflies with broken wings fluttering along at the whim of the wind, vainly trying to stay airborne. But even as it appeared we were going nowhere, there was a pattern to our paths; an unseen force pushing us towards the same destination. As dry leaves rattle and scrape against each other when borne on a chill fall wind, we were piling up inexorably into a forgotten corner of Earth, rustling and restless.  We were slow trails of human ants, and even as I moved forward, I wondered at our destination.

            It soon became clear. Strangely, through that ancient link we had all realized at precisely the same moment what our destination was. When the massive alien craft came into view and hovered near our location, we moved as one accord, knowing that this would be the ticket off our dying planet – a Noah’s Ark of humankind. And tickets we did receive.  Officials handed them out at a gate, and I wondered offhandedly how they came about their task. Where had they turned their resume into? Who had hired them? But more importantly, how could they decide who was a deserving ticket holder?

Mrs. Flowers' Daisy

Yes, it's been a looooong time since I've last posted. No, I haven't finished anymore chapters of my book. I'm hoping to pick up that strand again soon. For now, I've entered a writing contest or two. The most recent one I entered was a kindergarten story writing contest. Easy, right? I thought so. After all, I teach Kindergarten. I know what the kids are interested in. I know the reading level they have. Unfortunately, I misremembered the guidelines thinking that I had a whole 500 words to write a story. Wrong! I wrote a story of 450 words, then went back and checked guidelines and realized I had to cut 300 words!!! The contest only asked for a 150 word story. First rule of writing - follow the guidelines or your work is immediately disregarded. So I went back and cut, and cut, and cut, AND cut. Whew. Finally got to 150 words and couldn't believe it. It's not as rich as the original version, but when writing for beginning readers it's important to keep it short and simple. As a comparison I've included the original 450 word story with the 150 word cut. What do you think??

Version 1

The soft, warm body purred under Jo’s hand. Green eyes were bright next to the kitten’s gray fur. “Mew!” it said, and Jo smiled.

            “Mama, can we get it?” Jo asked, blue eyes pleading.

            “No cats, Jo. You know your brother is allergic to them,” said Mama.

            Jo pouted, but she knew her mama would tell her no. She always said no to cats.

            “Let’s go, Jo. We need to go to Mrs. Flowers’ house to make dinner.” Mama pulled on Jo’s hand as she led her to the car.

            Jo’s mama helped take care of Mrs. Flowers. She was an old lady who lived all by herself in a big house. Mrs. Flowers gave Jo hard candies and told her stories. Jo liked her, but she thought Mrs. Flowers was sad being all alone in a big house.

            Mrs. Flowers was sitting in a chair by the window curled up like an old, dry leaf when Jo and her mama came in.

            “Come say hello to me, Jo,” Mrs. Flowers said. Her old, green eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

            Jo climbed up on Mrs. Flowers’ warm lap and gave her a hug. Soft gray hairs tickled her cheek.

            “What have you been up to today, Jo?” asked Mrs. Flowers.

            “We went to the store for groceries and there was a lady giving away kittens!” Jo said.

Mrs. Flowers laughed, but her crinkly eyes looked sad. “Kittens are fun, but they grow up to be big cats,” she said.

“I love cats,” said Jo, climbing down off Mrs. Flowers’ lap. “I want a house full of cats!”

“I like cats too,” said Mrs. Flowers. “I once had a sweet little gray kitty named Daisy. She was a good cat.”

Jo saw the happy look on Mrs. Flowers’ face as she talked about the cat she used to have. It gave her an idea.

“Be right back, Mrs. Flowers!” she said.

Jo ran to the kitchen. “Mama! Remember the kitten we saw at the store?”

Mama frowned. “Jo, I told you we can’t have any cats!”

“I know that!” said Jo. “But what if we got the kitten for Mrs. Flowers?”

Mama shook her head. “Mrs. Flowers can’t take care of a kitten all by herself, Jo.”

“I could help take care of it. Please!” Jo pleaded, her blue eyes shining.

Mama thought about it, and then she said, “It will be a lot of work, Jo. You have to come every day to help Mrs. Flowers until the kitten gets bigger.”

“I can do it!” Jo said. “And I know just what we’ll call it!” Then she ran back to tell Mrs. Flowers about her new Daisy.

Version 2

The kitten’s gray fur was soft. It had green eyes.

            “Can we get it?” Jo asked.

            “No cats,” said Mama.

            Mama always said no cats.

            “Let’s go help Mrs. Flowers,” said Mama.

            Mrs. Flowers was in a chair curled up like an old, dry leaf.

            Jo climbed on her lap. Gray hairs tickled her cheek.

            “What did you do today?” asked Mrs. Flowers.

            “We saw some kittens!” Jo said.

Mrs. Flowers green eyes looked sad. “I had a cat named Daisy.”

“I love cats,” said Jo, climbing down.

“Me too,” said Mrs. Flowers.

Jo saw the happy look on her face. She had an idea.

Jo ran to Mama. “Can we get the kitten for Mrs. Flowers?”

Mama shook her head no.

“I can help!” said Jo.

Mama said, “It’s a lot of work.”

“I can do it!” Jo said.

            She ran to tell Mrs. Flowers about her new Daisy.