In a comfy cave at the bottom of a well-known Loch, there lived a little sea dragon by the name of Malachi, though his mother called him Lachi. In his cave, Lachi had a warm bed of hay and leaves where he could rest his head at night. He had soft, clean sand he could waddle on by day, and the water that lapped the shores was something he could watch with curiosity until he was old enough to enter.
His mother left on a daily basis to tend to big sea dragon chores. She always provided him a snack of seven clams and two fish, which gave Lachi plenty of strength to tumble and dig in the soft sand until she arrived home with dinner. She was never forgetful about his snacks, nor about warning him to stay on the shore, and every night she always brought something tasty for him to eat.
One day, Lachi waddled to his snacks and frowned. He counted only six clams instead of seven. His mother had never given him less before. Little sea dragons, as it’s known, need plenty of snacks to grow up big and strong.
By the fourth day of six clams, Lachi was confused by his mother’s actions, and when she got home, he asked her about it. His mother chuckled that he must be so hungry, he forgot how many he’d eaten. He grumbled as his mother tucked him into bed.
“I’m not forgetful.”
When his mother chuckled, Lachi turned his back to her and snorted. It was then he noticed part of his soft, comfy nest was ruffled. He smoothed it with his flipper and frowned as his mother as she turned off the light.
The next morning, his mother pestered him about his mood before heading off into the water. Lachi was not in a mood, and he was not forgetful. As he investigated his nest, Lachi knew his mother simply was not listening. With the missing clams and now the fact his bed was disturbed, Lachi was certain something was wrong, but he didn’t know what it could be.
After eating a few clams and one fish, Lachi collapsed onto the soft, sandy ground. Swishing his tail from side to side, he closed his eyes and pretended water was all around him. One day, when he was big and strong, he’d move through the water as silently as his mother did. He’d be able to catch his own clams and his own fish.
And none would go missing.
THUMP!
Opening his eyes, Lachi hopped onto all four flippers. His frills trembled slightly as he looked around the cave. During his short life, the cave had always been quiet with the soft sounds of water lapping against the sand or Mother’s soft laughter and soothing deep breaths.
THUMP!
As quietly as flippers dragging through sand could be, Lachi turned towards the sound. His nostrils twitched, and his frills continued to tremble, but his curiosity got the better of him. Quietly as he could move, he rounded the back of Mother’s nest just as another THUMP sounded.
-Excerpt from “Lachi and the Stolen Shells”
Reaching the gate, Sam slows and gazes at the coral surrounding this enormous anomaly. From what he knows, they typically form large reefs, a sort of natural barrier in warm seas. They form symbiotic relationships with the creatures who come to rely on them for safety, shelter, and food.
What lifeforms do these attract? Sam wonders.
Stepping forward, his gaze is drawn to what must be his own reflection. This couldn't be a new BT no one has ever heard of, but regardless, he waves his hand to check. While an illusion could mimic his movements, Sam doesn't feel the cold chill of BTs nor smell the associated death.
The scent of salty sea does reach his nose, though.
A peaceful feeling settles over his shoulders in spite of what he's witnessed since reaching the gate. One that removes a heightened sense of suspicion and allows him to admire what's before him.
The flawless mirror reflects the dusty landscape behind him and gives off a slight hum, which he feels in the depths of his very soul. It's majestic and stunning. A work of art only an ethereal being could create, and he gives a small smile as he's reminded of better times with Amelie.
Looking upwards as if the maker of this masterpiece is looking down, Sam admires the lightning from this perspective. Bright and chaotic, yet so perfectly executed, it's as if the bolts had minds of their own. Or at least set destinations.
From there, he notes how the blocked archway with perfect rectangle boulders isn't completed at the top. Floating peacefully and unaffected by the winds, they seem to hold secrets no one could ever solve. A wonder of its own accord. A beauty, Sam thinks, only Lou's smile rivals.
What takes his breath away, however, is the sperm whale gracefully floating above. Gently, its body bends and folds as its tail swishes, guiding it forward, albeit upside down. Giving off a cry, it makes its way through the gate, seemingly beckoning him to follow.
And with a deep breath, Sam accepts its invitation.
Life…
Death…
None of that matters here in the space in between.
The sound of oxygen bubbles through water is distant and far off, making the schools of fish encircling him seem like nothing more than a dream. Given the lack of bodies and strands, Sam assumes he's not dead and working his way back to his body, or so he thinks. He's never seen coral during the process, and that beach is filled with plenty of dead things.
Vastly different from all the life converging around him as he floats here.
The appearance of extinction entities in the distance chills his bones. The bright light behind them nearly blinds him as it creates a perfect circle of a rainbow. It's eerie and enchanting all at once, even as a whale drifts by bellowing its song in his ears while reminding him how small and insignificant he is in this vast world.
"—makes you think you have a choice?"
Blinking, Sam turns from the entities, curious as to who has ended up in this space with him. The voice is close, so close the stranger should be at Sam's right shoulder. Gunfire startles him and shatters the lull of the sea. A shark swims past, covered in blood.
Whose blood?
"Consequences cost, Repatriate."
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Inhaling sharply, Sam turns forward again. The extinction entities still wait quietly, as if it is his move to make. Glancing left and right, Sam only sees the water filled with schools of darting fish.
"Do you know the price?"
There.
Within a school of fish, he catches it.
Just a glimpse.
Only a glimpse.
And it makes him question if he truly saw the tarred figure at all or if his mind dreamed it up, for when he blinks, he's standing on dirt, surrounded by colorful coral. Behind him looms the mirror, the gate, silent and stunning as it was on the other side. There's no dust here, but there is a gentle breeze kissing his cheeks, reminding him he's alive.
-Excerpt from “The DHV is No Place to Raise a Kid”
Writing Samples
Rex isn’t the biggest fan of eopies…so of course, Asha is. In any other situation, he’d be thoroughly annoyed, but as she sits on the beast tugging the piece of rein he’s given her, her laughter warms him. And luckily for the eopie, Rex has had the foresight to hold the reins outside of her piece, so the beast is relatively unaffected.
Sighing, Rex glances over and has just enough time to process the fact Cody is taking a picture of them before he glowers.
His brother just laughs as does Beats, who sits on Cody’s shoulder—since the little clanker firmly declined to ride on the beast.
Asha turns to her uncle with a wide grin. “Badu! Badu, wook opie!”
And Rex smiles. She’s so innocent and sweet, and he’s not sure if he ever wants her to learn the correct way to say uncle in Mando’a. No, Badu warms his soul, and from the way Cody responds, Rex is certain his brother loves it as well.
As the ride comes to an end, Rex is quick to hop off before pulling his little one from the saddle. Setting her on the ground, he takes her hand. “Stay close, ARC.”
Exiting, Rex sees the little clanker prep to hop, and he snorts. “No. You’re a traitor.”
‘Not a traitor,’ Beats beeps in a gripe. ‘Just not for me.’
“And neither is my shoulder now,” Rex laughs as he takes Asha to the petting zoo. Giving a nod to the Noghri at the gate, Rex smirks as Cody stays on the outside. Letting Asha go explore, he leans against the white picket fence.
“Your scarecrow outfit’s starting to smear off,” his brother says with a grin.
“Least I dressed up.” Drawing a breath, Rex looks at the holopicture his brother holds up as evidence. The nose is a bit smudged, but nothing else is too out of place. Glancing at his scarecrow mini-me, he’s pleased to see her makeup’s stayed on rather well.
-Excerpt from “‘Ohs”
As if the asylum hadn't been torture enough.
White smoke drifts towards the clouds above seeking penitence. What the offence had been only time could tell. Perhaps it was due to the psych ward. Perhaps it was due to a cattle dog comment. Or perhaps it was none of those, but some much fouler offence.
What's odd is the way the flat is burnt to a crisp. The surrounding structures have taken damage, but they'll be restored relatively quickly. There is no salvaging the top. Its appearance now creates an illusion as if the building never had a second floor, as if it's always stood with only two.
Fire brigades hustle about, making absolutely certain the blaze will not flare to life again. Even though the white smoke could be considered a safety sign, they take no risks. Emergency services roam the street searching for any of those who are displaced to confirm they're not injured. Their job would be far easier provided residents of the area didn't fill the road in droves, quietly discussing and judging what took place.
The clouds above finally begin to release droplets far too late to be of any help. If anything, they make the situation worse. Not only does it seem like some kind of cruel joke that they would choose now to send water, but everyone out in the street will be soaked in minutes.
And there she stands, near an ambulance, brown slick hair hanging down her back and around her soot-smudged face, in nothing but a t-shirt and long pyjama trousers. In her hands, she grips her only remaining possessions: several odd American Girl books, and the mobile phone she's currently using to text Mycroft Holmes that she will no longer be his assistant effective immediately.
~16 months ago~
Humming softly, Cora skips down the steps and pulls out her Oyster Card. Making her way through an entry gate, she heads to the escalators and digs through her handbag. Pulling out an iPod, she puts one earphone in, hits play and gives a soft smile to its scratched screen. After nearly a decade of serenading her, it's still going strong.
Good thing, too, since she wouldn't be able to afford another.
When she enters the train, she's pleased to see she has the car to herself. It's not a terribly huge surprise given the time of night, but it is something she thoroughly enjoys. Biting her bottom lip, Cora slumps into a seat and bobs her head to the music as she pulls lip balm from her bag.
"Who, who, who, who?" she softly sings as she coats her chapped lips before returning the tube to her bag. "I took the tube back out of town, back to the rollin' pin…"
Turning sideways, she props her tired feet on the seat next to her and leans against the metal behind her. Normally, Cora would consider her behaviour rude, but in light of the empty train and the pain she's in, it's barely a concern. Despite the supportive trainers she sports, her legs constantly ache from running around the restaurant for hours on end. The pain is dull and constant making her feel three times older than she actually is.
There is a piece of her, on the contrary, that suspects her feet only ache, because she's not thrilled with life. If she could change her circumstances, she's certain everything would be different.
Shaking the thought from her head, Cora pulls a book from her bag. She runs a hand gingerly over the cover. It's her only escape from the mundane, and she finds that a tad sad. Who wants to spend their life at a dead-end job they hate? A place where they barely make enough to survive on, and can never truly live or explore beyond their door.
Even Disney posed the idea of adventure in the great wide somewhere, she thinks.
With a sigh, she opens to her bookmark, and begins to read: It is in some ways…
There's something about the sound and feel of the tale that Cora loves. She greets it like an old friend, knowing what it will say, but still wanting to know everything about it that she can. It enchants her and lulls her into its short depths, drowning out the mundane.
That is, until the lights in the carriage flicker.
She looks around to see it's still only her, alone, in the car. Pursing her lips, she turns back to the book with a shrug. Unless something worse happens, she has no need to worry. She'll arrive at her stop soon enough.
When the lights go out, however, she stands and walks to the door. What in the world? she questions, looking outside and pulling the earphone out. The train has completely stopped with emergency lights flickering along the track.
"It is in some ways more troublesome to track and swat an evasive wasp…"
The voice has her turning before the emergency lights inside begin to glow. Cora's head tilts to the side as she discovers a man in a three-piece suit settled in a seat behind her. He's looking at the tip of the umbrella in his hand as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. She gives the area another glance, but it's only him.
When did he get on?
-Excerpt from “Repeat After Me”