The Culling (sffworld.com July 2017 Flash Fiction Entry)

The Culling 

“Blessings children.” The Friar spoke softly, his hand resting momentarily on the shoulder of each Andling as he passed. They stood on a raised dais, semi-translucent skin seeming to glow as the sun cast its last fiery rays before it settled behind the peaks of the Mandrakes.

Caj scanned the small gathering, finding her parents standing near the back of the gathering. She smiled slightly, swallowing her nervousness as the Culling grew near. Soon, she’d be Andling no more.

“Each one of you has been chosen to endure by the Oracle.” The Friar spoke again, nodding to his Priests as he paced. One stopped briefly and handed her an amber Culling Stone. She turned it over in her hands, feeling its warmth despite coolness of the day. “No longer will you be bound by your weakness to the land. Soon, you will be reborn in Valkyr’s own image!”

Soon, the ceremony concluded and the children were herded towards the mouth of a cave, cheers from the gathered urging them on. A massive stone was levered into place and the room was pitched into darkness. Caj swallowed hard, using notches cut from the roughhewn walls to guide her to where they would sleep. Still clutched in her hands, the Stone pulsed with energy as lowered to the ground, quickly succumbing to a dreamless sleep.

***

Caj sat crossed legged. Hours had passed since she’d awoke before she heard the sound of the stone being removed. Standing and still gripping the now-cold Culling Stone, she fell into place behind the other survivors as they exited the cave.

“Andlore.” The Friar announced as he saw them emerge, their skin now opaque and pale in the light of the night. “Just days have passed, but you are reborn.” A cheer went up around them as their families crowded around the dais. Caj felt pride swell as she searched the crowd, and tears stung her cheeks as she saw her parents embrace with joy.

They bowed their heads collectively to show respect to those who’d passed on to join the courts of Valkyr, their bodies entombed as the stone was rolled back into place. Their twelve Andling had become five.

When the moment had passed, the rustling sound of new Andlore wings being unfurled filled the air. Caj pushed, as she’d been taught, but nothing happened. She pushed again, but the new skin along her back refused to yield.

“What is this?” The Friar asked, and all eyes turned towards her. Caj opened her mouth to speak, the sense of joy being swallowed by a wave of intense shame. She pushed again, one last effort, but the sudden pain extinguished her consciousness.

***

Caj sat just outside of ear shot as a Council conferred. While they did not speak, her parents attended, sparing her not one moment of acknowledgment. Her shame was doubly theirs. The Oracle sat among them, her milky eyes long since sightless but casting a heavy stare in Caj’s direction.
The Failed must die.

It was written that those who did not survive the Culling were simply being called to serve Her in Heaven. These were considered by some to be the lucky ones; to serve in innocence at the side of Valkyr. No one had survived the Culling and still not received Her gift, but the words still held truth. The Failed must die.

***

She was led by the Friar and his Priests through winding mountain paths until they reached an alter cut directly from the face of the peak. The cliffs dropped sharply away leaving a breathtaking view of the Andlore lands beyond. An image of Valkyr was carved from the face of the cliff, a sentinel over Her people.

“It is said, the greatest gift we can receive is to serve in in the very home of our God. She would take this one with her to serve in eternity. Peace, Andlore, for you are loved.”

The Friar pushed Caj and she fell.

Wind whipped past her, and she felt the grip of terror tighten firmly. She shut her eyes against the canopy below her and readied to scream, but a sudden warmth washed over her, squashing her fears.

My Child.

Words echoed in her head and she closed her eyes again, as if in compliance. Brilliant prismatic eyes stared back at her and she reached for it with her very soul.

No child, awake!

The words erupted with concussive pressure, the weight of a million souls forced through her body and she arched her back in pain. Finally, she screamed.

***

The Friar fell to his knees before her, unbidden tears streamed down his cheeks. Her feet landed gently and blades of grass bowed beneath a powerful beat of her wings. He bowed his head but she gently lifted his chin with delicate fingers.

“My Child.” She said, and he erupted into sobbing. The others around him lowered themselves prostrate as well, reverence emanating like a force between them. She turned to each one, resting her hand on each shoulder as she passed. Caj smiled, the power pulsed in her gut like the heat from the Culling Stone.

“Rise.” She said. No longer an Andling, she stepped back to regard them, eyes lingering on her tearful parents. She felt content as they smiled back. Her gaze rested finally on the face of Valkyr, a face she’d see every time she closed her eyes.

In the low light she would swear a smile spread across the face, urging her on. Caj nodded toward it, pausing for one last look back behind her. With two massive beats of her wings, she rose into the air before them.

They stood now, edging towards the precipice as she continued higher, the red and blue light of the dying day reflecting in swirls of color around her. With a cry, she turned and let the winds carry her away.

Mutiny

Mutiny

by Mike Pollock
(December 2016 Micro-Fiction Entry: SFFWorld)

Captain Farnham leaned back in his cryopod and watched his deep-space crew secure themselves before the flight.

“Atmosphere removal in 10…” Warning announcements blared over the ships intercom. Around the room pod doors slid shut; all but his own.

“Hey!” Farnham cried, fingers blindly tearing at restraints. The countdown completed and the roar of exhaust fans filled the room.

Panicked flailing turned his hands to fumbling and his vision grew dim. Darkness swept in around him as consciousness fled, and a masked face swirled into view.

A familiar voice spoke the last words he’d ever hear.

“Sleep well, my captain.”

Digital Scales of Justice (SFF World Microfiction contest: 97 words)

Digital Scales of Justice

by Mike Pollock

“The N.E.T. rests its case.”

The agency prosecutor nodded towards the juror’s box before returning to its seat. ‘Gordon’ swallowed as she stood; she took a major risk representing herself.

“Your honor,” ‘Gordon’ began, also casting a nod toward the jurors box, “I begin by saying I didn’t do it.”

Just then, video from Hazen’s VR feed swam with static, leaving her with nothing but her avatar’s audio.

“How does the Jury find the defendant, Hazen Gordon, on the single count of impersonating a N.E.T. agent?” The Judge asked.

“Guilty.”

Hazen cursed as her feed was terminated.

What it is

It’s like a childhood picture

Faded colors to grey

Like a memory of something

Someone or someplace

It’s like the answer to a question

You never knew to ask

Like fiction lined reality

A face behind a mask

It’s like the darkness of sleep

Even eyes open wide

Like the deepness of the sea

When your mind’s in the sky

It’s the drone of the static

And the faceless elite

It’s the rain pouring down

While you wander the streets

It’s the sweetness of breath

Like a warm summer breeze

It’s the heat of the sun

And the coolness of sheets

Colliding like airplanes

Eyes shut in their flight

It’s like the end is the beginning

And the day is the night. 

A Shadow Becomes

A Shadow Becomes

by Mike Pollock

So, here we are... war again. My old man used to tell me bout times when there was no war. People didn't shoot each other cuz' they looked different, or thought different... fuck, even smelled different.

Then again, my old man told me about squishy yellow cakes, filled to burstin' with sweet creams. Said you could buy em' at all kinds of stores. You know what I never seen? Stores full of candy and snacks. I never seen a restaurant, and my old man loved talkin' bout them. Men with puffy hats and sharp knives, he'd say. Sometimes they cooked in front of you!

Hell, I don't see what's so exciting about someone cookin' in front of you. I don't think I'd pay for that.

Anyhow, I thought I'd tell you a little bit about how I got here before I told ya where I was. Not sure this bears explainin' but in case somewhere in the world ain't fucked up, we'll start at the beginning.

Bout 40 years ago, a full twenty five 'fore I was born was when the Shadows first showed up. I thought they was demons, and I wasn't the only one. Others said they were just ghosts or aliens. We all ran, fast as we could. Hopped in our cars and took off to the country. My old man figured that if it was ghosts or demons, there'd be less of em' in the country.

The crazy lot that stayed, they told us it was cuz they were meant to be worshiped. Some fucked up old testament stuff, naked folks running around fires, asking for some devil to come and save em'.

Needless to say, they didn't make it too long. There was a few days while those crazies danced, and drank, and fucked, and partied thinking these flickering Shadows were comin' to save 'em. When they stopped flickering and stayed? Well.. we didn't.

I've been back there, a few times actually. Only at night, but that should be obvious to everyone at this point. So those folks that stayed in the first days? I found em still there... standing, sitting, sleeping, hell… taking a shit. Whatever they were doing when the sun hit 'em was the last thing they ever did. They never moved again, like some creepy, fucked up wax museum managed to suck out their souls for a quick exhibit.

They got my old man not long after that first night. We was draggin' some supplies back to where we were stayin' and he got stuck outside when the sun came up. We found him that night still standin' there, rope slung over his shoulder and look of determination on his face.

That was probably the last time I ever cried. Don't know why, but when I stopped, I knew I couldn't anymore. We lost a lot after that. Took us a while to figure out that it was somethin' about a foundation in the homes we were in during the day that kept em from getting us.

No, we weren't smarter than the statues... Just a hell of a lot luckier.

A Shade of Change

SFF World - Micro Fiction Entry (100 words or less, May 2017)

A Shade of Change

By Mike Pollock

“And you’re sure this isn’t him?” The guard asked, pulling the man forward by his bonds.

“No sir.” The boy said defiantly. “I never forget a face.”

His hands were a blur and a knife appeared in the guard’s chest. His cry was quickly muffled from behind by a manacled hand.

“Thank you, brother.” He said, lowering the body to the ground watching as shadows danced, swirling up and over the boy, obscuring him from sight. When they retreated, a twin of the guard stood before him.

Smirking, he flexed his new arms and legs. “As always, you’re welcome, brother.”

The Last Verse

SFF World - Flash Fiction Entry (May 2017, 1000 words)

The Last Verse

By Mike Pollock

Taryn leaned back against the doorframe, a half burned cigarette in her hand spit wisps of smoke into the air. “He’s been like this as long as I can remember. Building things that is. I don’t think he’s ever spoken an entire sentence.”

“And how long has he been in there?” The man beside her asked. His pen hovered over the lines of his small notepad.

“He hardly ever leaves.” She responded, taking a drag. “He’s got a form of autism and this is his only way of expressing himself.”

Killian’s hands moved with a practiced efficiency as he placed a circuit board inside of a box. The man beside her jotted a few more notes, his eyes never leaving the boy.

“What is it he’s building?” He asked.

She thought for a moment, casting a curious glance towards her husband Kerry. “I’m not really sure to be honest. He’s always building something but never says much aside from maybe yes or no.”

“I see. Do either of you ever work on these projects with him?”

“Well, I’ve tried.” Kerry answered, stepping into the room. “But he’s incredibly protective about who he lets touch his little machines.”

“Has he ever built anything like this particular device before?” The man’s pen was a furious blur.

“No, I don’t think so. Usually it’s something that helps him get by. A couple of weeks ago he made a little box with fingers that helps tie his shoes. Clever little thing.”

The man nodded dismissively and turned his attention back to the boy. Something caught his eye; a spark of electricity as he placed wires on a large battery, and a familiar whinny as the device kicked on.

“Of course!” he yelled, and both parents jumped.

“What does that mean?” Kerry asked, following the man as he stepped towards his son.

“Oh, I didn’t want to believe it. The Council was sure but I hadn’t seen the signs. Still…” He paused, turning back towards Kerry. “The children.”

With an inhuman quickness, he struck. Kerry sailed, tumbling through the air to land beside his wife. She screamed, backing away as the man whirled on Killian. “Do not interfere.” He snarled.

He bent at the waste and lunged, his body a missile as he travelled ten feet across the room. He nearly reached the boy before there was a click and a near invisible wall sprung up before him. He hit it full force and collapsed in a heap.

“You little shit.” He growled, pulling himself back up. He struck the shield with balled fists only to be repelled in a shower of sparks and light. He struck again before pitching forward, Kerry slamming into him from behind. The two wrestled for a moment before Kerry found himself with an arm around his chest and a jagged blade to his throat.

“Take the barrier down boy.” He pressed a bit and blood rolled down his neck.

The boy’s eyes flicked between the man and his fathers. A look of sadness washed over him as he shook his head.

“Insolent child!” The man howled.

In an instant, the blade slit his throat, showering the translucent wall with blood. “You’ve caused this!” He cried, tossing Kerry away like so much garbage. “You!”

His fists pounded down, light flashing once more as he struck the barrier. Fireworks ensued as he assailed it with strikes, his anger distracting long enough for Taryn to sneak up behind him wielding a fire extinguisher.

The cylinder took him aside his head and he lurched. He turned on her in that moment and grabbed her arms as she lifted it again. Before she could twist free, he plunged the blade deep in her stomach. Twice he stabbed, and she fell to the floor with a gasp.

“It’s over boy.” He said, turning a wicked eye toward Killian. “You’ll be as dead as they are when I’m finished with you.”

“No.” Killian said forcefully. He stepped forward. “No more!” in his hand he held the box he’d been working on. The whirring was louder and he reached in through the lid when something popped.

Beside him floated a being of light and swirling smoke. Its patterns shifting along its amoebous form like mists in the morning.

“What have you done?” The man asked, suddenly wracked by a terrible paralysis. His muscles shook with strain but he was unable to move.

We are here.

The voice seemed to echo in their minds. Killian smiled; the man cringed.

“It’s too late.” He spat. “I can feel the others. Several have succeeded.” As he spoke as a gentle tremor shook the floor.

“Please.” Killian said, ignoring the shaking and pointing towards his parents. His mother laid shaking, hands clutched around the handle of the knife. His father’s glassy eyes stared at nothing.

He is beyond us, I am sorry. It said, now hovering beside them. But she we can save.

Her eyes did not move as it approached, its faint light painted across her shivering body. Soon she relaxed and slipped into sleep. The blade lifted itself from the wound and it healed with no scar.

“A wasted effort I’m afraid.” The man said, still locked where he stood. “You’ll all be dead soon, I can feel the shifting.” His eyes snapped to the window where the sky had darkened. “Soon this instance of earth will be erased from the Verse and we will return to occupy its space.”

You are mistaken. We will not allow it.

It pulsed with light and the man before them went limp, his body crumpling to the floor; dead.

Another tremor shook the room, and it returned to the boy’s side. You must come with us. Faint tendrils of light wafted from its form and wrapped Killian and his mother, and their skin glowed slightly from the touch.

He took one last glance into the workshop, feeling a familiar pang of sadness. Then the light around them grew, and they slipped away.