When The Sky Cries_The Prison of Calindon_The world within a shell_The Broken Strings
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When The Sky Cries
When the sky cries, the clouds thicken and multiply to create an impenetrable sheet that disguises how unattractively it sobs. The farmers are grateful for it: the end of the drought is a moment for rejoice, for they will have produce to sell soon, their land nourished with the tears that fall in heavy pellets. The children hate it. It makes them miserable, stuck up inside because everyone knows it's dangerous to play when the sky cries. The ground becomes slippery, but not only that – when the sky cries, its tears are infectious. To be poisoned with the same sadness that could overcome the va...
The Prison of Calindon
“My revenge will be swift, and the Gioran Empire will be destroyed!” yelled Calindon as he thrashed against his metal bonds. Calindon’s physiwww.onedoor.ccque was exemplary for a Gioran, even after several days incarcerated for his crimes. His shaved head emphasized the series of white tattoos that streaked along his brow and down his neck and back. His gray skin was common among Giorans but looked nearly white due to the moon dust covering his body. The chains binding Calindon, held him in a standing position atop a short bluff on the small moon, Torini. Jouti, the planet in which Torini orbited, served as...
The world within a shell
The white gold beach curved gently along the dunes. Bobbie and her dad scanned the wet sand before their feet, watchful for shells or crabs or other marine treasures. This was the favourite part of Bobbie’s weekend.She darted forward, picking something up from the beach as the water receded over her toes. A shell; spiralling, smooth and polished by the ocean’s caresses.“What have you found, Bobbie?” She held the shell up for her dad to inspect.“That’s a good one. You could hold it up to your ear and listen to the ocean.”Bobbie held it to her ear, eyelashes fluttering slightly as she concentrat...
The Broken Strings
The Broken Strings by Mike FryStands a steep earthen ledge near a scrub oak woodlands, crumbling, looking down its nose on the summer-narrowed South Canadian River. It’s close to Overton Hill, where Schrock’s Ferry once crossed and old Camp Kickapoo near Mustang.The cliffs rise sheer where post-Oklahoma-land-run dugouts were carved into the red dirt. That town’s not on any present-day map, nor can you google it up. It seems to never have existed.The cliffs show skeletal roots, reaching into space for life-giving water. The loose earth edges break off, tumbling down into the valley of the river...