With each blink things seemed to adjust around them, ever so slightly.
“Is that… normal?” he asked, addressing the woman next to him by gently squeezing her hand.
“I don’t think that’s the point, Roma.” she replied, letting go of his hand.
The temperature dropped.
“What is it, then?”
She didn’t have an answer for him, still she tried.
Pointing at the sun, barely visible through the mist, she started crying. Roma followed suit. He heard her watch ticking just a few more times before the rain started falling, releasing an inebriating smell.
To his surprise, the mist was gone.
About the Creator
Edoardo Segato-Figueroa
Storyteller, Singer-songwriter. Husband and dog dad.
Author of "Countercurrent", Italian biography of Nikola Tesla.
Sci-fi and Cli-fi novellas. Sciencey essays.
Co-founder of NYADO and producer of Mission to Earth music-film.
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More stories from Edoardo Segato-Figueroa and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Dragonspine
In the beginning, the Valley of Myl was a desert of dust and rocks, devoid of all life, plagued by hostile scorching winds. No flower ever blossomed on our Home-isle, no fruit ever hung from the trees, because there was no water in the ground, nothing to nurture roots and leaves. There was only fire and stone. And the Valley wasn’t yet known as Myl, because Myl was the name of the flying mountain upon which came the first Dragons, our Greatfa’s. One day a shadow appeared in the sky, a speck where the blue grew darker every minute, until it obscured the Star and the Eyes of the Ancestors opened up as if it was already dreamtime. The shadow was a piece of the Isle of the mighty Dragons, far beyond the void whence they came. They rode upon it, their wings of lightning woven into a thick web, helping them defeat the Pull of the Underworld. Their scales moved across their skin and down their tails like gears of a large machine. Beneath it, the Greatfa’s harbored seeds, protected like precious embryos by metal and pure cold Flamelight. Their crystal voices resounded like bells in a vast cave as they sang a poignant song that shook the lands below and blew away the fire. They were singing because they carried a gift. A gift of life.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa4 years ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Beautifully evocative.