Rajya laxmi
Stories (10)
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The Treasure of Atlantis
The morning after the storm, the boy headed for the beach to look for the remains. The sun emits a soft light on the beach, transforming a melted seabed into a kaleidoscopic splash of color - red and yellow, green and blue, a rainbow of pieces of plastiglomerate glistening in the light, like strips of paint scattered on a sandy soil.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
Building a Bridge Too Vast to Cross
Our bridge has four generations. The outside is snow-white because of the sun, but our breeding caves are like the warm gold that I remember from my youth. It takes half a day to crawl from end to end, and the apex is proud to look at the southern ocean. My ancestors built this bridge with mineral saliva that dries as hard as bone. It will last for generations, but the lake below the bridge shrinks, leaving white salt rings as the water level drops. When the water is gone, we will be exposed to predators, and there is already not as many algae as there used to be.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
After the Earthquake
After the quake, Steven drove to his grandmother's house to check on her. He realized that the damage was serious when he walked in the door. The entrance tiles were filled with vivid memories — the hospital week, his grandfather's deep breathing, the funeral service in the rain. The brilliant light of memories was filled with fragments of broken glass.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
Some Day My Prince Will Go
It was pretty scary watching the witch sing "Happy Birthday". Instead of being pursed in disapproval, as usual, her mouth stretched into a smile so wide it made me think of strychnine. Meanwhile, her eyes stayed as cold and unblinking as a hawk, with a nose to match. She wore the inevitable silky blouse, twenty years out of date and buttoned right up to her wrinkled neck, but today it was little-girl pink. Even her trousers were pink. The outfit clashed hideously with her strident plum hair, and I couldn't help thinking it was going to get stained when she shinnied down the tower.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
Memories of Mirrored Worlds
At midnight on her ninth birthday, Alison Marie was crowned Queen of the Nightlands; she decreed that flowers should glow in the dark and that bats should dine with her at supper. At midnight on her tenth birthday, she was named Keeper of the Secret Word, which she whispered to her trusted steed, a giant frog who galloped through the moors. On her eleventh birthday, Alison Marie was worshipped as Goddess of the Sky. She spread her dragon wings each night and breathed the stars to live with fire. But at midnight on her twelfth birthday, Alison Marie became the daughter of a widowed man, and she made no more visits to her other lives.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
The Place Beyond the Brambles
When last I saw you, my sweet, my love, you were shrunk to the size of Grandma's thimble and plucked from the porch by the bees of the forest. We heard your cries, your wild shrieks of delight, as they carried you to the place beyond the southern brambles. Listened, after, to the silence that followed, to the empty fields and the dark shadows beneath the trees where no bee remained to hum its evening song.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
Miss Violet May from the Twelve Thousand Lakes
All of us fellas loved Miss Violet May, right from the start. She came from the land of Twelve Thousand Lakes, came click-clacking on the train from North to South till she met worthless Sorry Joe Weevily, and he sweet-talked her into getting off and marrying him.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
