Underdogs

Lora stared at her computer screen and sighed. Her English teacher was an old crackpot and this assignment was the worst.

Imagine you are your grandparent’s age. What is your favourite movie? Why?

Lora was sixteen. How was she supposed to imagine herself as an old lady?

Lora had never known her parents and the great people who’d adopted her hadn’t had any living relatives. And they’d been killed by a jerk texting and driving. Now she was stuck in a group foster home and supposed to think like grandparents she never knew anything about.

But she needed top grades if she was going to get scholarships. Foster kids didn’t have money for college and she wanted to get a degree. She wanted to make sure she always had a job and a home. Ditching even one assignment could jeopardize that.

At least she had the internet. Most people probably had favorite movies from when they were kids. She searched popular movies from the sixties and seventies, hoping something there wouldn’t be incredibly lame.

A couple of the movies surprised her. She hadn’t realized Jaws and Star Wars and Grease were so ancient. Would an older lady like one of them?

Lora had seen Star Wars before and she liked it. Her adopted dad had been a huge sci-fi fan and she’d seen the whole series of movies at least once.

The foster home had some streaming so she pulled up the original movie and watched it again. She hated crying, but couldn’t stop the tears as she remembered sitting with Jane and Rick watching the movie. Jane used to tease him that he wanted to be a swashbuckler like Han Solo. He’d tease right back saying Jane was strong enough to be a leader like Leia.

Right now, Lora felt a little like Luke who was also an orphan and then he’d lost his aunt and uncle too.

As she watched, Lora kept notes for what the movie was about. For what an older person might like.

The underdog winning.

Dealing with losing your family.

Wanting to have a bigger life.

Wanting to be the best.

Wanting to help your friends and your people.

Teamwork.

Good versus evil.

Accepting people for who they were, not what species they were from.

Would an older lady like all that? Would she still remember the movie?

Lora wished she had some experience with older people. Crackpot should have thought of that before making the assignment. Not everyone had access to generations of family.

Eventually, she wiped her tears and started to write her essay.

The knock on the door startled her. The lady in charge of the night shift at the home opened her bedroom door with a smile. “Hey Lora. It’s late. You okay?”

She wiped her face again before turning around. Eesha was always nice to everyone and she didn’t want her to think anything was wrong. “I’m okay. Just finishing up an essay.”

Eesha laughed softly. “You always work so hard, Lora. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish in the future. No matter what you choose, you’re going to be a star. Keep an eye on the time, it’s a school day tomorrow.”

Lora nodded and looked back at her screen, at her final line.

Star Wars might be an old movie, but it’s one that people might still be watching in another fifty years. We always want to see the little guys win.

Lora saved her work and turned off the computer. When she crawled into bed, she decided she was going to be one of those little guys who won.

***

Tagline: Everyone loves an underdog

***

I've loved Star Wars from the first moment I watched it in the theatre. Because of its setting and its message, it doesn't surprise me that the franchise continues to grow and thrive. George Lucas created an amazing view of the past with these stories.

If you've come from the WEP site, you already know that this will be the last WEP Challenge.

It's been an honour to work with the team over the past couple of years. Denise, Renée, Nila, Laura, Olga, and Sonia are amazing people with a passion for stories. Thank you to every one of you for everything you've done for this writing community.

To our challenge participants, it's been a privilege to read your stories for these challenges. I've learned a lot from all of you and I thank you for sharing your words with us. I look forward to reading your words in the future too.

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Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season with warmth and love and family and magic. Take care of yourselves and each other!

Think Of Me

Cassie took a deep breath and slipped into the shadowed doorway. No one called her out and no one appeared to ask her what she was up to. She turned the knob and only opened the door enough to pass through.

The darkness was punctured by red emergency lights above the doors. Spooky but at least it wasn’t completely dark. She wouldn’t have to risk a light.

The metal stairs and walkways might be sturdy, but they appeared too ethereal in the dim light that reminded her a little too much of blood. It took three deep breaths before she built up the nerve to step onto the first catwalk to cross the cavernous space.

Following the instructions she’d memorized, Cassie moved silently on her sneakers to the third stairway leading down. A couple of levels below, the shadows shifted but no one yelled at her. With a shiver, she checked behind her and above, but nothing else stirred.

Down she went. Through a door. Down again. Two catwalks. Up a level. Cross two rooms. And down one more time.

The door was unlocked as promised and she slid through it shuddering with relief. It took her seven long breaths before she could peel herself off the door.

The circular room soared into an arch above her. The red lights seemed to pulse with energy.

Cassie pushed off the door and crept to the middle of the room. She needed to be in the exact center.  Once there, she spread her arms wide and turned in a slow circle, embracing the air.

With a deep breath she brought her arms in, lowered her shoulders, closed her eyes and felt her diaphragm pull in the air it needed. Then she sang.

Think of me.

Think of me fondly

when we’ve said goodbye.

The first notes soared into the air and she almost smiled before she pulled herself back into the song that was filled with longing and regrets. Andrew Lloyd Webber knew what he was doing with those notes.

As she sang, the acoustics proved they were indeed perfect. The song filled the space with all the yearning the lyrics provided. She could almost hear the haunting notes of the piano around her as she sang.

Chills covered her as she sang through the heartache and the hope and the memories. She’d never been in a space so beautifully designed for music.

As the final notes ended on a sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself. If the auditions were held here, she stood a chance.

The sound of clapping had her whirling around. Two men stood in an open doorway. They wore orange safety vests and hardhats. One man pointed to the side door. “Nice job, kid. Now get going before we have to charge you with trespassing.”

The other man grinned. “That’s the best version we’ve heard so far. You’re going to nail the audition. Now move it.”

She moved it, grinning all the way. 

***

Tagline: Deep in tunnels, surprises await

***

The above is part of the October WEP Challenge: Phantom Of The Opera. I saw the Toronto production of Phantom one year with my husband for our anniversary. It was incredible!

Webber has written an incredible score. The music is haunting and memorable. I've even learned to play a few of the songs on the piano, including this one. Beautiful music.

To sign up with your own entry or to check out the other entries in the Challenge, check out the links below. There are always amazing entries in the challenge.

Enjoy the challenge!

Brownies!

This was not the day to improvise. This was the day to follow the recipe to the letter. She wasn’t generally much of a recipe follower—or rule follower for that matter—but today, she’d do it exactly as prescribed.

The recipe called for the flour to be scooped into the measuring cup and then levelled off with a knife. Ridiculous, but she did it anyway. Same with the cocoa powder and the sugars.

Next, she cracked the eggs and whipped them gently in a small bowl. She measured out the other ingredients and set them in a row so she would be sure to add them in the correct order.

Melting good chocolate apparently required placing one bowl over a pot with boiling water inside. And not quite a rolling boil, something she’d never heard before but could now identify.

She used the whisk and whipped the chocolate with some butter. It did smell good. Really good. But taking a taste would maybe screw up the final results and that wasn’t acceptable. This had to be perfect. Just like mom used to make.

Once the mixture was in the preheated oven, she set the timer and cleaned up the mess. So many dishes just to make some brownies!

The timer finally beeped and she set the pan to cool. Another timer and when the brownies were cool enough, she cut them and put them on the flowered plate her grandmother loved so much.

Knowing how much the older woman hated a mess, she checked to make sure she didn’t have any stains on her clothes. Between that and the clean kitchen, there was no evidence she’d even been in the kitchen.

Perfect.

She knocked on her grandmother’s door and waited for her reply before entering.

“Those smell like Diane's brownies. No one makes brownies like you do, Diane.”

Her mother hadn’t been home for over a year. Who knew where she was this time. Her grandmother's face fell when she realized she wasn't the beloved Diane. “These are delicious. Tell your mother thank you. Why don’t you leave the plate?”

She smiled and nodded, then stepped out of the room.

When the next timer beeped, she wiped off the doorknob and entered her grandmother's room again. With her gloves on, she wiped off where she'd touched the plate and then checked to ensure the old woman was dead.

Slipping out the back door with her hood up, she headed for the subway. She’d be back in her dorm when someone called with the sad news.

And then she’d be rich.

Tagline: Not quite how mom used to make

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The above is part of the WEP Challenge for August. I hope you'll join in the challenge - we're always eager for more entries!

Obviously you don't have to know the movie (this is another one I haven't seen), but chocolate is a great prompt for all kinds of stories.

Check out the links above for some fabulous stories!

WEP & Stories of the Night

Sirens shattered the night.

Nessie leapt from the bed and threw on trousers and a shirt over her nightgown. She rushed into the next room to find George sitting up and little Moira sleeping peacefully.

“Mama? Is it time to go?”

Nessie kept her voice calm and ruffled his hair. “It is. You know what to do. I’ll get your sister.”

George threw back the bedclothes and scrambled out. Her little man quickly pulled pants and a shirt over his pyjamas and then grabbed the small bag from the closet.

Moira kept sleeping while Nessie wrapped her in a blanket and hugged her to her chest. Then she picked up her own bag and slung it over her shoulder.

The blackout curtains were already closed, so less than a minute from the first siren wail, they were out of their tenement and hurrying down the stairs. They quickly crossed their tenement's back yard to the shelter.

An explosion sounded not far off and had George moving closer to her side. He let out a relieved sigh when they crossed into the protected room. They moved quickly to their usual spots and started tracking their neighbours. No one was going to forget a sleeping baby ever again. Even as she thought it, Nessie watched Ivy walk in. George quietly counted the children as they followed their mum. When he got to seven, he smiled at Nessie. “She’s got them all this time,” he whispered with a smile.

When everyone was inside, lanterns were lit and the door was closed. For a while they chatted quietly with each other while everyone settled in. Over the past year, they’d become used to the unknowns.

Were their husbands and sons and brothers safe? How many hours would the bombs rain down tonight? Would their windows be blown out again? Would their tenement buildings be standing when the all-clear siren rang out?

George patted his bag. “Can you read everyone a story, Mama?”

“You choose one tonight.”

His six-year old face serious, he looked through the tiny collection and pulled out the worn copy of Heidi that her mother had read to Nessie as a child.

The group fell into a routine of sorts. Nessie read a chapter. Old Bill played his violin. Sadie sang a song. Nessie read another chapter. More songs. More stories.

Moira woke when Kathleen played her harmonica. It was always the little girl’s favourite part.

When the all-clear siren rang out, the adults exchanged relieved looks. No bombs had sounded like they were close enough to harm their homes.

As they trudged out of the shelter, the sun was rising over the tenements, bathing the grey buildings in warm light. George laughed. “It’s so pretty Mama.”

Moira spread her arms wide. “Boo-ti-ful. It’s boo-ti-ful Mama.”

Old Bill patted George on the head as they walked backed to their building with its windows and bricks intact. “You and your sister are right, my boy. It’s beautiful. Life is beautiful. Remember that.”

***

Tagline - Even when sirens shatter the night

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The above is part of the WEP Challenge for April - Life is Beautiful. This is another movie I haven't seen. (Yes, this is a theme. I don't watch a lot of movies I'm afraid.)

The above piece is based on stories that my mom (Lizzie from Dancing With Dementia) shared. She grew up in Aberdeen Scotland in WWII. She and her family spent a lot of time in bomb shelters during her formative years. The neighbours did indeed forget a baby one time and were unable to check on the child until the all-clear sirens rang. The windows had all exploded that time and the baby had been sleeping near the window in a buggy. The blanket was covered with glass shards, but the baby was unscathed. Life can indeed be beautiful!

I hope you'll check out the other stories through the link and I encourage you to join in the fun. We're always looking for new voices in the challenge!

***

PS - if you missed it, the latest Bloo Moose Romance released yesterday!

Reaching For More

One interfering mom,

one fake relationship,

and one stalker who doesn't like it at all

Get your copy!!

WEP & Harry's Mission

Nothing was going to stop Harry from achieving his mission. He’d planned every step. It had taken him days and days. Now, he had to make sure no one messed it up.

He ate all his supper. Even the broccoli.

He scraped off his plate. Put it in the dishwasher.

He didn’t splash in the bath.

Well, not too much.

Harry put on his new pajamas. The feet were a little too long, but he’d be careful.

At bedtime, he only asked for one extra story.

Then he waited.

Waiting was hard.

So was staying awake.

Harry pinched his toes and counted all the way to a hundred.

He whispered his plan to Marshall, but the stuffed Dalmatian didn’t have any ideas on how to stay awake.

When he’d waited forever, he looked at his clock. The first number was a nine. Or was it a six? He traced the number on his hand like his teacher had shown him. It was a nine.

That had to be late. No one could stay awake until nine.

Harry hugged Marshall for luck and then snuck out of bed. The nightlight helped him see and he peeked into the hall. Lights were still on downstairs but they’d have to leave them on tonight.

Harry slid to the side of the stairs and held the banister tight. His pjs were a little slippery but he only fell once on his way down.

When he reached the bottom, he looked down the hall. No one. He tiptoed into the living room and grinned. No presents were under the tree yet. He wasn’t too late.

Harry went straight to his hiding place, between the two chairs and in front of the bookshelf. Then he sat down to wait some more. He was going to see Santa’s face for the first time. All he had to do was not fall asleep.

Harry jerked awake when something wet touched his face. He tried to roll away, but the wet followed him. When something barked, Harry opened his eyes as the dog licked him again. A Dalmatian. Just like Marshall. “Did Santa bring you?”

The dog woofed and jumped in Harry’s lap.

Mom and Dad came into the room with their coffee cups. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Did Santa bring me a puppy?”

“Didn’t you see Santa?”

“No.” He must have fallen asleep after all. He hadn't seen Santa's face.

Mom picked up a red paper from the plate where they’d left the cookies. “Looks like Santa left you a note.”

“What does it say?”

“Maybe next year.”

Harry nodded and hugged the Dalmation. "I'll see him next year."

***

Tagline: Harry's on a mission to see a face for the first time

The above is part of the WEP challenge First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Please check out the links to read the other entries into the challenge. There's lots of time to join as the entries will be open from Dec 1-15. I hope you'll join in the fun!!!

WEP & Schrodinger's Letter

Like Schrodinger’s cat, the envelope rested on Ty’s kitchen island. Propped against the pepper mill.

It had been the first thing he’d spotted after the worst shift in his time as store manager.

Five shoplifters today. One had stormed out with an entire cart of groceries. She’d shoved it out the doors like she was a race car circuit. But it had been a hard right turn into the parking lot and she’d dumped the entire cart in the roadway. Then she’d run off calling him names he’d never heard before.

Two more tried to walk away with chocolate bars. Grown adults risking a charge over a hunk of chocolate.

One had played the, “Oh, I forgot I didn’t pay. I didn’t realize I almost broke the turnstile by going out the in,” routine. But he’d paid, so they hadn’t charged him.

The fifth had been a woman who shoved a frozen turkey under her sweater and into the top of her pants, pretending to be pregnant.

A frozen turkey.

And she hadn’t been smart enough to not have the tag sticking out the front of her sweater.

Then the debit machines had shut down bringing out tears and the angry idiots of the world.

A pallet of soda had been tipped over. And, no, the store wasn't going to pay the dry cleaning bill for the dingbat who'd tried bodysurfing through the orange goo.

All in all, a hell of a shift.

And now a letter bearing his name in Sadie’s handwriting on his island.

He couldn’t move past it. Couldn’t go forward or back. He was stuck in limbo exactly like Schrodinger’s cat.

If he didn’t open the letter, it could be both good and bad news at the same time. Once he opened it, he’d know.

Who wrote letters anymore?

Sadie had never written him a letter before.

Things were going well. Really well. He’d been thinking about shopping for a ring.

What was in the letter?

He finally unglued his feet and picked up the envelope. Not a business envelope, not a Christmas-card-sized one either. Smaller.

Stomach churning, Ty turned the white envelope over but there were no clues on the other side.

Closing his eyes, he blew out a deep breath and imagined a box. He opened the flaps of the imaginary box and a healthy cat popped out to grin at him.

His big hands fumbled with the flap of the envelope, but he didn’t want to tear the paper. Once it was open, he peeked inside to see a folded piece of paper.

No writing on the outside. He was still in the box.

Ty slid out the paper and blew out another breath.

He unfolded the paper.

A cartoon filled it. On the left, Sadie had drawn Ty conked out on a recliner with ZZZZZ printed above his head.

On the right, she’d drawn herself carrying a pizza box and a six-pack.

Heard about the shift. Take a snooze. I’ll see you in an hour. Love Sadie.

Love Sadie.

Schrodinger’s cat was alive and well.

Carrying the letter, Ty headed to the recliner and pulled out his phone. The weariness of the shift was gone. Time to find the perfect ring.

***

Tagline: A letter propped on a pepper mill and an empty house. Good or bad?

The above is part of the WEP Challenge for June: Please Read The Letter.

This is another song I didn't know before the challenge. I listened to it a few times, but I just wasn't in the mood for a heartbreak story, so I focused on the title itself rather than the song.

Please check the links below to find more flash prompted by the song or the title!

WEP & Brat

 Rain fell and fell and fell.

Brat wondered if it had got into her skin and replaced her blood. She hoped it would keep falling.

When she’d snuck out of the hole she’d dug, he’d been heading for his bottle. She hoped he drank it all the way to the bottom. Even if he went looking for her, he wouldn’t be able to chase her. His thinking wouldn’t be clear enough to find her hole.

He would think demons were messing with him again and hiding her.

Then when he’d recovered enough, he wouldn’t remember.

If the rain kept falling, he wouldn’t be able to follow her. She knew he tracked animals for food. He always complained about how the rain messed up the tracks.

She tried to hide on those days, but her closet wasn’t big enough to hide.

He told her she was lucky. He fed her, gave her a home.

She didn’t feel lucky.

But how was she to know?

Maybe all the places were like this one. Maybe some of them were worse.

If it was worse, she didn’t know how it could be.

But he told her it was.

She knew trees because they were everywhere she looked when she got to look out the window. Was there anything else?

Brat slipped on the mud again but didn’t stay down. She had to keep moving.

And moving.

When she couldn’t walk anymore, she crawled.

And still the rain fell. Hiding her path. Hiding her.

Her hands bled so the rain hadn’t changed her blood yet.

She pushed to her feet again and kept walking, never looking back.

When the trees disappeared, she stopped. This was new. She didn’t know what it was. Didn’t have the words to tell.

The rain kept falling. Brat kept walking.

When she fell again, there was no mud for a soft landing. It was hard and more blood came from her knees and hands.

Brat swallowed hard and then pushed to her feet. Kept walking.

A noise broke the air and light broke the rain.

Brat couldn’t make her feet move. More noises she didn’t know.

Then a voice. “Are you okay? What are you doing out here? Are you hurt?”

It wasn’t him.

Was it worse than him?

Another voice. “You’re bleeding honey. Come on in the car. We’ll get you to the hospital and get you some help. Don’t worry.”

Brat didn’t know all the words, but the hands on her didn’t hurt.

Brat went with the voices while the rain continued to fall.

***

Tagline: A hard rain is just what she needs

The above is part of the #WEP April Challenge: A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall.

I have to admit I'd never heard of this song before the challenge. It's an intense song with some pretty dark lyrics. I struggled for a bit. And listened to it several times. And still struggled.

The song reminds me of court jesters who were allowed to speak harsh truths disguised as entertainment. We all interpret songs/poetry differently, but this song broke my heart. There's such cruelty in the world.

All of this finally brought me to the story above. I'm a romance author, I'm a teacher, I'm a believer in the power of hope and love and kindness. There will always be a light at the end of my tunnels.

I hope you'll check out the link to find the other stories written for this prompt. And I hope you'll join in!

WEP & Grams

 “Hey, Grams.”

“Good morning, Trav. Isn’t it a gorgeous day?”

Trav moved to the chair beside the bed, trying to ignore the antiseptic smell and the plain room. Grams loved colours and sunshine, not this crap.

He kissed her papery cheek and sat on the chair, keeping his eyes on hers. Her body was shrinking, weakening. But her eyes remained hers. Strong, vibrant. But he could see the pain. The acceptance lurking in the shadows.

He swallowed hard and pulled out his phone. “Which playlist today, Grams?”

“It’s a Beatles kind of day, Trav.”

That made him smile. It was a Beatles kind of day at least four days a week. He hit shuffle, knowing that was the way she liked it best. Always a surprise around the corner, Trav.

Her eyes lit up when Imagine started to play.

Trav set the phone on the blanket and while they listened, he lifted the bag he’d brought her. Another surprise.

“You finished it?”

Grams didn’t even know what he’d been working on, but she was excited. She’d asked him to draw her something, didn’t care what. She’d encouraged his art from the day he picked up his first crayon.

Trav pulled out a sketchbook, light enough for her to hold, large enough for her to see.

The vibrant eyes clouded with tears, but the smile told him everything he needed.

“You drew for me.”

“Not just for you, Gram. Of you.” Because she’d been his person since day one.

He helped her flip to the first page as the playlist shifted to Here Comes the Sun.

Grams laughed. “Perfect timing.” She was a big believer in fate and karma and all that hippy stuff.

The first sketch was Grams dancing in the kitchen, his earliest memory of her.

Happy tears trickled down her cheeks as she brushed her fingers lightly over the page. “Well, she was a bit of a firecracker, wasn’t she?”

“Was? No was about it. You’re still the brightest firecracker in the sky.” Her dimples flashed, reminding him she’d once been young. “I bet you had men fighting for a dance with you.”

Her laughter filled the sterile room. And his heart.

She flipped through the pages in time with the music. He’d drawn his favourite memories.

Hotdogs over the campfire.

Picnics at the zoo.

Trips to galleries and museums.

Painting on easels together.

Graduation day. She’d nearly burst with pride over his valedictorian speech.

As she flipped to the final sketch, the playlist clicked to All You Need Is Love. He caught Grams' eye and they both smiled. Trav lifted her hand and kissed it.

“I guess they’re right. All I needed was you. Your love has got me through the very worst of times. You’ve been everything to me and I don’t know how to tell me how much you mean to me.”

Grams laughed and patted his cheek. “You’ve told me every day, Trav. Every day in all the best ways, just like this.” She patted the final sketch, one of the two of them hanging out in their favourite spot. Sitting on the porch swing looking out over the river.

“This is perfect, Trav. I’m so proud of you. This is the best gift ever. Well, until you get me a great-grandchild. I’ll be hanging around until then.”

They both knew that wasn’t true, but he grinned at her, going along with the running joke. “And you’ll be the best Grams to the kid ever.”

Which she would be, because his kids would always know they were loved. They’d always know unconditional love and support. Because Grams had taught him well.

***

Tagline: Lessons from the Beatles and Grams

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The above is part of the WEP February Challenge All You Need Is Love.

The link is open until Feb 18 - I hope you'll join up. WEP is open to everyone and is a whole lot of fun. Follow the links for the rest of the stories in the challenge. I can't wait to see how everyone interprets this prompt!

WEP Challenge & Predator

Predator

Nella squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth slightly. She couldn’t make a sound, not even the sound of a breath.

Her blood roared through her veins and every muscle strained to move. Run. Get away. Go!

But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

Adrenaline surged and bounced around inside, making her fingers twitch where they hugged her knees into her chest.

No movement. No sound.

Air in, air out.

Slow the breathing. Slow the blood. Slow the brain.

She had to listen, had to hear. But the white noise of panic filled her head.

In and out.

Nella squeezed her toes and relaxed them. The quietest way she could think of to use up some of the adrenaline-fuelled energy.

Slowly, the panic flashes behind her eyes receded and the white noise ebbed. She only hoped it wasn’t too slowly.

She opened her eyes a slit and then a little more. Blackness surrounded her. She couldn’t see. No one could see.

Could it see in the dark? Could it smell her fear and her panic? Were her tiny breaths audible?

A scrape cut the air.

The smallest of sounds. The largest of threats.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Curl the toes, relax. Look. Don’t move.

Blood raced again. Air thickened and refused to process.

Another scrape.

Nella squeezed her lips together. Pressed down hard.

Her breathing quickened and tears built in her eyes.

When light blazed around her, into her, through her, Nella released the scream.

But the predator was the only one who heard.

***

Tagline: When there's nowhere to run

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The WEP Challenge for this month is The Scream!

You can join the challenge until October 22. We'd love to have even more writers participating!

There are so many ways to interpret a prompt and the WEP writers always produce entertaining stories!

We're asking writers to include a short tagline/blurb with their stories. But, we'll write one up if you struggle to find one or forget!

Looking forward to the entries!

WEP: Red or Green?

Update!

Red or Green was chosen for the Encouragement award by the WEP team. Thanks so much and congrats to the others. It was great to read new voices in the challenge this month and I hope those writers continue to join in the fun!

***

It started in her toes.

A tingle that ran from the baby toe on her right and grew across her body until it hit the final toe on the left.

The next wave reached her ankles, then legs. Each wave of tingles higher and stronger until her entire body shook with them. And it took only seconds.

When she’d lived on planet, she’d experienced earthquakes. This disorientation was similar but the specific directionality differed.

Momentum wanted Liane to move left, but the cause had to be on her right. At the rate the waves were growing, if she didn’t find and fix the cause soon, she’d be space dust before she handed over command to the next shift.

By the time she reached the engine room, the deck was buckling beneath her feet, comms were inoperative, and panic was trying to claw its way up her throat.

The door had been cracked and as she approached, the deck rolled in another wave and the door fractured into pieces.

The engine room itself was unrecognizable. Metal lifting and rolling. 

Screens shattered. And bodies trapped in the debris.

Grief and despair battled against her control but she moved forward into the chaos.

Walls weren’t supposed to buckle, floors weren’t supposed to roll.

And the engine wasn’t supposed to pulsing with an angry orange glow.

Nothing she’d seen in any of her decades had prepared her for this and Liane wasted precious seconds simply staring.

The next wave threw her into the bulkhead and brought her focus back. From this angle she could see the body of the engineer, arm outstretched toward the wall.

Crawling to the body of her friend, Liane saw he’d been reaching for a panel with two buttons.

Engineering gobbledygook covered the wall and she wished she’d paid more attention during those classes.

More waves. More cracks and breaks. More screams and anguish.

Red or green? Stop or go?

Which button was he trying to reach?

The entire ship shuddered around her.

Liane closed her eyes and pressed red.

***

This story is part of the WEP Challenge.

Click on the link to read the other entries.

Have you joined the challenge yourself? Jump on in -  the people are awesome. I've learned a ton by participating!

WEP & Jardin

Thanks so much to the WEP team for selecting Jardin as the runner up this time around! Congrats to Toi for her powerful entry and the emotions she evoked!

Jardin

Jasta woke well before her alarm. In reality she wasn’t sure she’d actually slept. Who could sleep when Freedom Morning was so close?

Jasta shoved out of her bunk and slipped into the bathing chamber to prepare for the day. She rushed carefully through her preparations. She wanted to look her best when she dreamt back on this day.

At her first stop in engineering, she found grinning crew members, sparkling equipment, and enough data to confirm that Freedom Morning was a go.

The air in Esperanza was now completely Jardin’s air. Terran air was left far behind.

In medical, she confirmed there were no longer ill effects from the new combination of hydrogen, nitrogen, and what their scientists called jardigen. A molecule never seen back on Terra. At least from the records she had. Records from seven generations ago.

Hard to even imagine the changes in knowledge over that time frame. Leaving behind a burning husk of a planet in search of a future.

A future about to be realized.

Jasta checked in several more sections before heading to the gallery. The largest room on Esperanza was filled with her people. Not everyone fit, but she knew the others were watching from the screens. She doubted even one was asleep.

Jasta moved to the front of the room and grinned at the spontaneous round of applause.

“We’re here. We’re ready. This morning will begin a new chapter in humanity’s tale. We’ve got things to prove. We’ve been given a second chance. A second planet. We’ve all pledged to ensure we don’t harm this one. We’ve studied, we’ve learned.”

Her voice trembled and Jasta took in a deep breath before beginning again.

“We’ve read about wind and weather. We’ve seen vids of mountains and seas. We’ve heard the calls of fauna and smelled the scents of flora, but from a distance. Today, we experience all of those in a new way. In the best possible way. On Jardin, our new home.”

A cheer resounded through the room. Jasta blinked away the tears of pride in these people she loved.

“We’re going to dream better. We’re going to do better. We’re going to be better.”

The gallery rang as the people echoed her words. The promise they’d pledged every morning of their lives.

“It’s time.”

Jasta led the way to the nearest exit and for the first time in seven generations, the door opened.

Jasta tried to keep to a sedate pace, but joy and hope sent her into a run within only a few steps. She whooped and threw her arms to the sky.

Felt the wind.

Smelled the planet.

Saw the mountains.

Touched the grass.

And believed.

Freedom Morning was their chance.

And they weren’t going to screw it up.

***

The above story is part of the WEP Challenge. 

Have you participated in the Challenge before? It's always fun and productive. Not only is it good to flex those short story muscles, the real bonus is reading all of the amazing stories springing from a single prompt. Follow the link to read more!