It’s STORY TIME!!!
Jennifer M. Eaton started a cool writing project on her blog: Write A Story With Me. Each participating author contributes about 250 words (ummm, that is, 400ish.). My turn came this week (yup, I did jump the gun two weeks ago–sorry!), and my installment is below. These are the previous installments:
Part One – Jennifer M. Eaton
Part Two – J. Keller Ford
Part Three – Susan Roebuck
Part Four – Elin Gregory
Part Five – Eileen Snyder
Part Six – Mikaela Wire
Part Seven — Vanessa Chapman
Part Eight – Ravena Guron
Part Nine – Vikki Thompson
Part Ten — Susan Rocan
Part Eleven — Kate Johnston
Part Twelve — Julie Katherine
Once you’re all caught up, I hope you find I did justice to the story and to my fellow writers. And if you want to have fun with the rest of us, you can always add your name to the list.
Thank you for reading! Looking forward to everyone’s comments, thoughts, critiques, feedback, hellos… any words you have for me, I’ll welcome them with open ears.
Write A Story With Me — Part Thirteen — Kai Damian
“Can’t find anything wrong with her,” said the doctor after prodding and probing Marci’s frail body with a series of medigadgets. Behind him, Marci’s parents watched their daughter lie unconscious, her breath so shallow that they could have sworn no air was reaching her lungs.
“Then why isn’t she waking up?” Marci’s father asked. His wife broke into sobs as she sat next to her daughter and caressed her frozen cheek.
With trembling hands, the doctor packed his medigadgets away. “I’m sorry Protector Sumner, I wish I had an answer for you.” He watched Marci for a few moments, a wave of anguish washing over his face, then finally said, “Let’s give her twenty-four hours, and if she doesn’t wake up, we’ll take her in.”
“No, you can’t take her in, I won’t let you—”
“Natalia, please,” Marci’s father said, ending his wife’s lament with an icy stare. She lowered her gaze back on her daughter, silently acknowledging the mistake she almost made: rebel against the Establishment’s Rules under one of its servants’ eyes.
Nobody can tell the Establishment what they can and cannot do. What they can take. When they can take it. Even if the taken is someone’s child. It was a Rule solemnly recorded in the Tablet of Truth, which no planetary raider had ever defied.
Marci’s father thanked the doctor and showed him out, then rushed back to his daughter’s room.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he said gently, and kissed his wife’s forehead.
Natalia shook her head and squeezed his hand. “You did the right thing, dear,” she whispered and wiped off another tear. “But we need to bring her back, Yoran, before they can take her. I don’t think I can survive another Recall.” She rose to her feet with a pant, holding her belly with both hands. “I’ll go make some tea, you stay with her and think about our options,” she said and left lifeless Marci alone with her father.
He sat next to Marci and caressed her cheek. “Oh poppet, why won’t you come back?” he whispered and leaned his forehead against his daughter’s cold hand.
“Perhaps I can be of service.” The tiny voice reminded him of the crystal wind chimes hanging outside his daughter’s window. Hand on his laser gun, he turned around.
“What the—” were the only words he had time to utter before the sight of the enemy rendered him speechless. Speechless, but not mindless. Because in that moment, Yoran Sumner knew that the creature before him—the one he had learned to hate since he was a little boy—was about to turn him into a Rule breaker.