THE ASTRONAUTS’ AWE

Three astronauts sat at the conference table at the head of the interview room, looking over the sea of media folk who had come to interview them upon their return.

They’d barely been back on earth for hours, had just stuffed their faces with their first experience of proper food in weeks, and now they wanted to go home and sleep in a proper bed. Instead, there were questions to answer from media of all wings and beliefs, seeking the glory the three had found.

‘And is it worth scattering the universe with the corpses of our creations just to seek adventure and possible safe living beyond this earth?’

‘From the earth-life faction,’ the attendant to the three astronauts muttered behind them.

The three were silent, and the cameras clicked, and the media waited.

The astronauts thought back to their journey—the feeling of apprehension as they walked aboard the shuttle, the feeling of the immense rumbling and the sound at takeoff, the G-force that smashed into their bodies for hours as they cleared the earth’s gravity, and then finally, their first glimpse out of the space station windows. The stars beyond into nothingness; their earth home, so small, really, and so beautiful; and the flare of the sun as it came around the back of the earth, lighting the world up in a way few humans had seen.

How breathless they’d been, and how much energy had surged through their blood at that moment.

The media folk waited, watching with bated breath as the three astronauts’ faces filled with awe once more at the memory. For once, they stopped jostling to ask and answer questions, and they waited for the news that they hoped would be ‘yes’. Hoping it was in the future of all to witness the sights of the universe beyond.

Then, finally, the astronauts glanced to one another and nodded, and the one on the far right spoke.

‘No,’ she said to the despair of the crowd, but to the relief of the one who had asked the question. ‘For it was all too beautiful to taint with our broken hopes and dreams just for the faint hope we’d get somewhere else far away. What we have is awe-worthy enough, and I can’t wait to re-start my life here knowing that.’

#shortstory #scifistory #shortfiction

THE LITTLE GREEN ELF WHO COULDN’T TURN INVISIBLE

A little green elf stood in the centre of a human room, trying to ignore the shaking through his whole tiny body at the thought of a human walking in. The house was quiet, and it was the perfect place to practise. But he knew he had to be quick, just in case a human did come.

He squeezed his eyes, his face, his hands, and his toes, but still nothing happened.

The little elf let out a ragged breath, pouting to himself at being unsuccessful. All the other elves could, so why couldn’t he?

The little elf gritted his teeth and tried again, focusing with all his might.

There was a shuffle at the door.

‘What’re you doing?’

A little human girl peeked around the doorway, holding a ball, her eyes wide.

‘Shh. I’m practising not being seen,’ the little green elf said, forgetting that he wasn’t meant to let the humans see him.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said the human. ‘I suppose I should look away then.’

‘Yes please!’

But the little human padded into the room and stood and pretended not to watch.

The little elf tried and tried, and he saw the human glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, but no matter what, he knew the human could still see him. It wasn’t working.

‘I can’t do it!’ He wailed, turning around to look at the girl, trying to be sure she could still see him.

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ said the little human girl, rushing over and scooping him up with her hands. ‘I’ll help you.’

‘But I have to do it myself.’

‘Who said so?’

‘The elder elves. They say you’re meant to be invisible to humans all the time and only show yourself when you want, but I can’t turn invisible at all!’

The little green elf’s lip wobbled, and he slumped his shoulders as he sat in her hands, looking at her palms dejectedly.

He could feel the little girl’s large eyes on him, and then she spoke again.

‘What if you’re meant to be the first elf who is always seen? What’s wrong with that? Then you can talk to humans.’

The elf looked up. He hadn’t thought of that.

But are we allowed to talk to humans?

He covered his mouth quickly. He didn’t know. What if he wasn’t meant to be seen by her and that’s why the other elves were always invisible.

He shrugged and pouted again. ‘I just don’t know. All my siblings do it. And they tease me when I can’t.’

‘That’s not nice.’

‘No, it’s not. So I want to be able to turn invisible all the time because then they’ll stop.’

‘You really want to?’ The little human girl asked.

The little elf nodded, setting his face firm, determined.

The little girl sighed. ‘Okay.’ She put him back down. ‘How about this. I’ll stand guard outside the door so no one else comes in. You keep practising. Tell me when you think you’ve got it, and I’ll peek in and try to see you. Deal?’

The little green elf grinned. ‘Really?’

The human child nodded.

‘Okay!’

The human girl picked up her ball again and padded back outside the room, closing the door softly behind her. The little green elf could hear her throwing and catching the ball in the hallway, and he smiled.

This could work!

Knowing he had a safe practising space, the little green elf tried again, closing his eyes and focusing over and over on being invisible. Over and over, he tried again, and his hands and eyes hurt from squeezing so hard, and his breath became static.

Then, he felt something happen.

‘How about now?’ he squeaked out to the little girl, trying to keep focusing on this weird feeling in his body—like a fizzling and light airiness.

The little human child opened the door a little and peeked in, looking straight at him. ‘No, sorry. I can still see you.’

The little green elf sighed but tried not to feel dejected. ‘I’ll try again!’

She nodded and closed the door behind her again, this time rolling the ball around on the floor. The elf could hear it on the wooden floor.

He tried again, still squeezing his eyes, hands, face, trying so hard to become invisible that he didn’t realise he was holding his breath. He let it out in a spurt, gasping.

The little girl peeked in. ‘I heard a noise. Are you okay?’

She was looking straight at him again. Disappointed and tired, the little green elf flopped onto the floor. When he looked up at her, he saw the little girl looking at him in sympathy.

‘What if it’s not hard. What if it’s easy? But you think it’s hard, so you’re making it hard. My dad says the harder I think something is, the harder I make it. He tells me to relax and just try to enjoy what I’m doing. It’s easier then!’

She was still peeking around the doorway, and she offered to stay outside again one more time.

‘Try again! I’ll open the door when you tell me you’re ready.’

The little girl closed the door again, and this time, he didn’t hear her playing with the ball. Maybe she was just relaxing too. He listened to her doing nothing and tried to think about relaxing. All the other elves said it was easy and always looked relaxed. Maybe it was.

He took a deep breath and tried to relax. No clenching his teeth or hands this time. No squeezing his eyes shut this time. Instead, he just stayed lying on the floor and stared at the ceiling and listened to the girl doing nothing outside.

He felt another tingle. This time bigger.

But the little elf ignored it and kept relaxing, pretending he was becoming invisible like the air, just like his siblings had said, and relaxing, daydreaming about becoming a cloud and floating in the sky where no humans could see him.

His fingers and toes tingled. Then his nose.

This time, he imagined running around in the garden outside the little girl’s house, jumping and leaping in the wind secretly with no humans seeing him.

His belly tingled.

The door creaked open again. ‘Little elf?’

Footsteps came into the room, but the little elf was too busy daydreaming about flying on the wind.

‘Little green elf?’

The girl sounded anxious now, and she pattered about the room, looking for him.

I’m right here, what’s wrong? The little green elf wondered as he heard her call him again. I’ve not moved an inch.

‘Did you leave? I’m sorry if I couldn’t help you.’

The little green elf stopped pretending to be the wind and looked up at the girl. She really couldn’t see him. He looked down at his hands.

Have I … become invisible?

The little green elf got really excited, but when he looked back at the little girl, he saw that she looked really upset and had sat on her bed, pouting and rolling the ball around in her hands. His excitement dropped and he wondered how to turn back uninvisible.

‘It’s okay,’ he squeaked. ‘I’m right here!’

The girl looked up and tried to follow the noise.

‘Little green elf?’ She looked around. ‘But I can’t see you. Are you hiding?’

‘No, it worked! I turned invisible. Your help worked!’

The little girl’s face lit up, and she squinted her eyes as if that would help her to see him.

‘But I don’t know how to turn uninvisible now.’

He’d not listened to his elders or siblings at that part. He’d never needed to before, after all. Then, the little green elf got excited all over again. He jumped on the spot, and he felt his energy rise.

‘I’ll come back tomorrow! I’ll go ask them how—the elders.’ The little green elf turned to leave, and then he stopped. ‘I mean, can I?’

The girl grinned. ‘Of course! And I’ll stand guard again outside if you need me to.’

#shortstory #fantasystory #magicalstories

Hivra and the Longma Part 1/4: short fantasy story

Sweat poured down Hivra’s back as she stomped up the dusty road. Two pure-bred humans scuttled past her, glancing at her from the corners of their tiny eyes before hurrying away, hoping she didn’t see them look. But, Hivra didn’t care how she looked right now. She knew she looked rough, she knew she smelt rough, and all she could think of was how much she wanted a bath. This last job she’d taken had meant going far into the wild—where no pure-human would go, she noted, so as if they could comment on her smell. The deep wild was dangerous. No baths out there. Hivra grunted, adjusted the heavy weight of her luggage on her shoulder, and fixed her mind on home. This time, she ignored their comments about how disgusting orcs mated with humans and how typical they smelt bad. Usually, she’d turn and face them—try to tell them orcs were a proud and clean race—but today, screw that. She was exhausted.

Hivra was a half-orc of the red-skinned clan. Her human mother must have had a secret affair with her orc father because it had been a shock for her grandparents when she was born. Her grandpa had refused to let his daughter raise a half-orc, so he left the newborn half-orc somewhere on a road.

Someone else’s problem.

Unfortunately, that was common with half-blood children. Over the years, Hivra had learned that humans felt disgusted by the orcs. Though orcs were an honourable and hard-working race, and very hygienic, there was something about them the humans didn’t like. Perhaps it was that they’d been at war so often hundreds of years ago, and some felt hard to get used to the hard-earned peace they lived with now. Hivra thought it was something else. Orcs could do things humans couldn’t. They were stronger, bigger, faster, and took better care of themselves. For one, humans seemed only to bathe once every few months. For orcs, it was a ritual to clean themselves well, or they got kicked out of the clan for dishonouring their strong bodies by making it susceptible to disease and ruin. It wasn’t much of a wonder her mystery mother had wanted to be with her mystery father.

Hivra ignored the pure humans’ dirty glances and snide comments as they sauntered past. It wasn’t worth getting involved. This road led to home—eventually. Home: the place her adopted parent was waiting for her. She’d been on the road for work for almost a month, so he’d be worrying out of his mind.

She smiled to herself. Somehow, as a baby, she’d been picked up by a hobbit.

Otto Wanderfoot was a tiny man with a mass of light curls on his head and on his feet. A peaceful and well-read man, he’d barely batted an eyelid at the mixed-race human that everyone else around him called clumpy and awkward and ugly. He’d carried her back to his little home in the side of a hill and raised her by himself. It hadn’t been easy for Otto. He’d researched how to care for her tusks and thick hair, and rushed off to meet orc women for advice on how to braid her hair to ensure it met traditional standards and didn’t shame her or their proud race. He’d even built a separate house for her to live in when she got too tall to fit in his hobbit hole.

Even more important, Otto had been the one to name her.

Hivra.

Neither one of them ever cared they weren’t related by blood. They were the best of family. And now, with Hivra being an adventurer for the kingdom and taking on jobs that were too hard for any pure-bred human to do, they often spent long periods apart. That’s why home was always the first place she went after finishing a job.

She could wait for the bath. Just long enough to reassure him she was safe.

Hivra pushed her dark braids out of her face and adjusted her luggage, grunting at the weight. She’d stashed her cloak and warmer layers in the pack and walked in her blouse and trousers alone, but it was still too hot, and it made the luggage heavier. She wondered how humans even managed to carry anything with their tiny bodies and weakness to the heat. It was in that moment, as she was trying to retie her braids together in a ponytail and out of her face, that she spotted something on the other side of the road—a wooden crate.

Ever nosy, she shuffled over to it.

It looked like a creature trade box. She’d seen them before in trader’s carts. But what was it doing here?

She sniffed, wondering whether something had died and they’d just abandoned it. No reek of death. So she shuffled closer. The box was lying on its side, the slatted hatch sideways. First dropping her luggage, Hivra dropped to her hands and knees and peered through the slats into the wooden box.

A long, lumpy, scaly face peered out at her. Then it squealed—loudly.

Hivra jumped and reflexively reached for her knife in her belt. Then she thought against it. This creature was alive and likely hurt. It had probably fallen off the cart. But, how had the trader not noticed? Wondering at the creature’s condition, she reached out to the box and tried to gently tilt it back the proper way, watching the beast the whole time to be sure she didn’t hurt it. It thudded about in the box and glared up at her, screeching and hissing.

‘Alright, alright. How can I help you if I can’t get the lid open?’ She tried to calm it, but she thought it just made it louder.

Hivra reached once more for her knife, this time intending to prise the lid open to run a check on the creature, figure out what it was and whether it was hurt. But, with it screeching like this, she wondered whether it would be safe to open. She didn’t know what kind of creature it was.

‘Well, there’s only one way to be sure, so just bear with me.’ Hivra did not doubt that it couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

She prised the box open with her knife, opting for pure strength over skill. Her long teeth bared as she grinned at it swinging open, and she crouched in a comfortable position and held the box up to her face to look inside.

An ugly tiny thing hid in the back corner, cowering. All Hivra could see was scaly skin hanging off a starved frame and eyes glinting at her with a glare.

Hivra sighed and put the box on the floor, getting back on the hands and knees as low as she could go, keeping her hands free to try to tempt the creature out of the box.

‘Come on,’ she tried to say softly so as not to scare it, knowing her appearance alone was probably enough to scare it. What young thing would like a large red-face half-orc peering in at it, tusks protruding from her mouth and horns poking through her dark hair.

It must have realised the hatch was open and it was on sturdy ground as the creature shuffled forward a little. Hivra egged it on in her mind, hoping it would move just enough the light would fall through the slats so she could see it more clearly. The creature shuffled forward again, and she heard a snuffling from within the box, and a small, black, leathery nose poked through the hatch. Then there was a soft thud and a weak scrambling.

Hivra waited, ignoring the cries of her aching body to have a bath and finally rest. She tried to kneel lower to look inside the box again. What she saw made her heart freeze over.

A hopeless hatchling of some lizard-like creature flumped without energy on the floor of the box, unable to drag itself further out of the box than just the tip of its nose. Hivra stared at the creature’s sagging leathery skin and knew it was, no matter how old it was, too small for its age. A weird lump protruded from one side of its head, and a scar cut down the side of its elongated jaw, looking dark pink and likely soon to become infected. Its eyes no longer glinted with a glare but looked up at her sadly, as if it had given up already.

Hivra swallowed, feeling a painful lump in her throat.

She knew that people looked at her with disgust when she walked through human-only streets. She knew that human clothes would never fit her larger size, yet the orc clothes were too small. She knew her brawn and natural icy glare sent even the hardiest pure human quaking. Hivra had lived her life poorly treated for how she looked. Yet, as Hivra bent low to look closer at the mangy, stranded creature, the poor, ugly thing looked back with no fear or hatred or malice in its eyes. Instead, Hivra swore she saw hope glinting somewhere in those shiny black eyes.

She sniffed and reached out for it with her giant hand, stopping slowly and just short of the creature to not cause alarm and so it could sniff her first. Animals always went by smell first. Not that a half-orc mercenary woman on her way back from a faraway mission smelled all that friendly. But the creature didn’t seem to mind, and it just managed enough energy to nudge its damp nose into her vast palm.

Hivra took a breath. And then, surprising even herself, she pulled her hand away, feeling the pain in the ugly creature’s eyes as it thought yet another would abandon it. But, Hivra reached out with both her arms and scooped it up, wooden crate and all, stood up, and carried it so gently in her arms for fear of jolting it.

She stared at her heavy luggage, wondering if she could navigate picking it up without dropping the precious box with the beast inside. Somehow, she did, and the weight of her luggage didn’t seem to bother her for the rest of the journey home. Now, Hivra’s attention fully focused on the half-dead creature in the box. She hoped it would survive the trip home. If anyone knew how to help her look after it, it was Otto.

He might even know what it is.

#ShortStory #ShortFantasyStories #FantasySeries