Lily Landry opened her eyes and immediately squinted. She noticed the sounds just as quickly as she noticed that the light shining through her window did not reach all the dark corners of her bedroom. Those sounds, like some kind of industrial machine. She searched her sleepy mind and found the reference. Jet propulsion? And wind. She flipped aside her covers and donned her slippers and robe. She walked out onto the balcony of her third-floor apartment, holding a hand up to her eye as she squinted up at the source of the light. It was too bright. She couldn’t see anything beyond it. Before she could think another thought, she was swept off her feet. She gasped as she started floating upward into the light.
“I hope they paid you double the salary for working on both shows,” I said.
Cal chuckled. “Well…” He trailed off with a wave of his hand. “A shame about the fire. They were pretty good those episodes, as I recall. But since we only showed them once a year, we didn’t keep them in the same place we kept the other reels.”
This week’s story will be posted soon. This is the anniversary post for Storyfeather’s fifth year!
The Year of S.T.E.A.M. is done! That was the theme for Storyfeather Year Five. Science. Technology. Engineering. Arts. Mathematics. Year Five’s stories aimed to center around one of the aforementioned elements. It was quite the challenge.
Also a challenge, keeping the bar for the artwork as high as I could manage after the visual upgrade the site received in Year Four.
Thank you to everyone who read even a single story. And if you liked or commented, thank you again. Thank you for your time and interest, and for being a part of Storyfeather, especially Year Five.
A lot happened in the fifth year stories. A cast and crew of middle school students put on an original play about cosmic heroes and deadly aliens. A malfunctioning beauty product gave whole new meaning to the term “vanishing cream.” An explorer got lost in a spatiotemporal anomaly that was once the treasure vault of an alien pirate. And a woman started turning into a cartoon…
I’ve written over 250 stories now. And I’ve produced 52 podcast episodes (one for each story from Year One). Year Five was a (sometimes delirious) struggle, but well worth it. Storytelling is still my true love, still my destiny, still my path.
Year Six is on the horizon. Here’s to seeing what stories will brew. I hope you’ll come along.
I have stories to tell you.
Yeah, I’ve come to terms with it. I’m not going offworld to do anything noble, like teach aliens how to speak human languages, or to plant trees, build houses, or pass out blankets and water during emergencies. I’m going offworld to go live in the house of some rich Blorgnathian who’ll spend the next five years licking my face.
I heard someone calling…calling to me.
Is it the voice of the woman on the other side of the airlock window?
Or is it the voice of the ghost that’s trying to possess me?
“The volcano was so huge that when the sun rose in the east, it would crest upon the highest peak of the volcano, and it would look like the volcano was bringing the light of the sun to the people who lived below.”
“How can we know for certain what the truth is, unless we seek to find it?” an aphid named Quintillion argued.
She kept her wings respectfully folded as she stood before the Council of Grand Numerators. But she dared to sweep aside the train of glittering white filaments that plumed from her back, a particular characteristic of her tribe.
“They came out of the primordium, just as we did,” she said. “They are not beasts. They are an intelligent species. They are potential companions.”
Chloe glanced again at the handsome man who was lingering at a sculpture. The sculpture was a caryatid, a column shaped like a woman, in this case, a celestial being. He gazed up at the stone carving of the heavily robed Herald of the Gods. The Herald too seemed to gaze down at him. She pointed up to the heavens with a hand that held a scroll, the scroll upon which was written the spell that brought the world into being. Her other arm bent gracefully behind her head. The sculptor had captured the moment just before the herald unrolled the scroll and read the spell. The moment when she stretched after a long journey from the center of creation to its outer edge, where the gods had deigned the mortal world should be placed. The moment before she spoke the spell and the world bloomed into existence.
“Earthquakes? This ain’t California.”
Sheriff Lockley shook her head at her deputy.
“Well it’s not Kansas either and we get the occasional tornado some summers,” she said, peering at the television screen in her office.
The sheriff, two deputies, and the science reporter for the Acton Daily were watching the latest report on the strange rumblings that had started almost a year ago.
“We’re just lucky, Grubbs” the reporter said. “We get a little taste of all the natural disasters.”
Grubbs crossed her arms and frowned. “If it’s just earthquakes, why is it happening a few times a week now? I’ve never heard of that. That can’t be natural.”
Lockley wondered the same thing.
“These may be kaput,” Mrs. Santi said, patting her thighs, “but thanks to you, I’ve got these.” She made fists with her hands and raised her arms in the traditional flexing-biceps pose.
She immediately dropped her hands to the wheels of her chair and pulled forward, propelling herself toward Jim.