Category: Fiction

The dust mound grew with each sweep. Peter moved through the room, sweeping from end to end, making his way from one side to the other, moving the dust into a long mound on one side of the room.

He pushed the dust mop slowly, taking slow strides, stepping, stepping, stepping, stepping, turning, stepping, stepping, stepping, stepping, shaking the dust mop over the ever growing mound.

Peter looked up, through the bars, to the sky, and stare at the blue, into the bright morning light.

“Hey, you, keep moving.”

“But it is a beautiful morning. I was just admiring it for a moment. No harm in that, is there?”

[Here is a snip from the beginning of a novel I wrote in the mid- and late- 90s. This is the first time any piece of it has been published online.]

Whispers and murmurs scattered throughout the crowd. All walks of people were watching with their hands covering their mouths, their eyes wide in amazement.

Thyrus stepped closer to the table in the center of the stage. With his side to the crowd, he reached toward the box on the table. He extended his index finger then hesitated.

“Who here would actually have me do this? Is there anyone in the audience who would really have me brave the dangers in this box?” Thyrus faced the audience now. He could tell they were spellbound; he watched their eyes. Every move he made, they followed. He milked the powerful hush for all he could. The strained silence broke when a young man stood up from the back half of the crowd.

“I — I — I want to go with — with you.”

“Now Charles, you know you can’t do that,” his mother replied.

“W — well, if I can’t go with you, I want to go to the moon.”

Charles’ mother kissed him on the forehead, checked the brakes on his wheelchair, then waved goodbye to him.

“You know I can’t take you to work with me, and, as for the Moon, well…. Goodbye, honey. I’ll see you when I get home. Make sure you’re back from the moon by the time I get home.” She smiled, closed the door behind her.

Charles slapped at the control for the wheelchair, released the brakes, and rolled into the living room.

“I — I — have to go some — somewhere,” he said aloud. He looked around the room and shouted, “I ha — have to go some — somewh — somewhere but he — here!”

The Caurach guard stood at the doorway calling names into the gloom.

“Tokmyr! Rekoi! Fomur! Shorakuk! Qeykari!”

As they were called, each Porruka emerged from the darkness, passing the guard and lining up in the hallway.

“Qeykari?” There was a pause. “Qeykari! Now!”

Qeykari slowly moved into the light. The Caurach swung wide and backhanded him. Qeykari pulled himself from the wall. His body drooped in shame.

“Go. It is your time, like the others. Perhaps you’d rather be back on your home world?” The guard waited for Qeykari to answer.

“No. Thank you for allowing us to stay. I will go.” The guard marked his list as Qeykari flowed into position behind his fellow Porruka.

“Just for that, Qeykari, you’ll be the honored guest at the head table.” The guard laughed loudly. Qeykari ignored him.

Tokmyr glared at Qeykari. “What are you doing? This is bad enough, without you giving them reason to lengthen our time of service.” Qeykari remained silent.