Cluttered Shelving

Recently one of my stories was published in the Niner Anthology  'We Had Stars Once' . Though this story has appeared here before, I have decided to post an updated and unabridged version. On this blog I can expand my stories out to fill in my growing 'Divide' universe in a way that is not appropriate for a short story anthology. ---- Mountains rose out of stony planes, a long spine of earth and trees that stretched across the horizon. Waning sunlight cast the mountainside in a pale orange glow. Flat pine needles reflected the light, washing the forest in false autumn colors. Cutting a path through the trees, overgrown with moss and creeping vines, was a steep dirt road. The stones that once lined either side of the trail had slipped away, succumbing to the incline. In their place ground cover slowly reclaimed the road. The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats against the ground was muffled by the dense trees all around.

A weak breeze blew, taking some of the stifling heat off Robin’s skin. The relief lasted only a moment and she was again overwhelmed by the hot air. She squinted up at the pale blue sky, unbroken by clouds. She sat in the front row of the large crowd, glad to be one of the few who had a chair. It wasn’t exactly hard for her to stand, her legs weren’t weak, her head was clear, but still she was amazed her legs were holding her upright. Standing took effort, it took a choice and a resolve, and she didn’t think she had any of that. All day, from waking up in the dark after a fitful night of sleep to standing here in the cemetery, she wasn’t sure how she did any of it. But she was here, so she must have accomplished it somehow.

The cars on either side of her crawled forward.. The sun had yet to burn through the gray cloud cover, and the lack of sunlight left Aubrey lethargic. She shifted in her seat, trying to stretch her muscles and get blood flowing to her head. This early on a Saturday morning she’d expected to have the road to herself. She tried to think if there was some sort of game in town, some reason the roads were full, but her sluggish brain could do little more than focus on working the pedals in the car.

Want to start at the beginning? -  Emma, pt 1. --- Sil’s feet made no noise as he walked through the wet grass. Emma lightened her step to match his so her own feet slid over the damp ground noiselessly. The light of the fire behind them was a harsh glare on an otherwise dark landscape.  A cold breeze raised goose-pimples on her arms, and she regretted leaving her jacket in the tent.  Sil lead her down a slope so the camp was above them. Tents and horses vanished over the lip of the hill, followed by the fire so only an orange glow in the air remained. He kept walking, not speaking, keeping his eyes on his footing. When even the faint light of the fire began to fade, unease rippled through Emma’s gut. 

Want to start at the beginning? -  Emma, pt 1. --- The storm that threatened all day never came. The bloated, grey clouds dropped little more than the annoying spray that followed them to the campsite.  The sparse trees vanished entirely and gave way to a grassy field. On the horizon Emma could see some huge red formation of rock, dark and shadowed on such a day. 

Want to start at the beginning? -  Emma, pt 1. --- The bow Emma held was smooth, the wood flexible. She’d been surprised; the bows her father had taught her to use were smaller and more rigid. This bow would allow her to hit a target farther away, but it would also require more control and strength to use. Sil crouched silently next to her, watching the far field as he aimed his bow. When Emma had asked if she could learn to use the larger bows she’d expected Lison to teach her. She imagined his arms wrapped around hers, helping her aim the bow; she’d pictured his fingers brushing against hers as she worked the tight string.  When she proposed it he agreed it was a good idea for her to learn, but confessed to being a horrible shot. So Emma now found herself out in the woods with Sil, hunting kinibs.

Want to start at the beginning? -  Emma, pt 1 --- “The dwin hero of our tale doesn’t make her appearance at the start. Instead we first meet the crafter Raycole. She was a legend in her time, her skills unmatched.” “How come only the crafters in stories can do anything impressive?” someone whispered.