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cosmooverthemoon · 3 months ago

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Desert Songs

The sun warmed my skin as it fell upon the earth in fractured rays. Sand pulled at my feet, begging me to join their choir, the soft whispering pulling at my ears. Stubby, dead grass tickled my toes. Rocks cast strange shadows on the sand, great hulking beasts in the sky, shifting and changing with the wind. The clouds reached for the earth, their misty tendrils clinging to my calves, and brushing my face with its soothing touch. At night the moon clung to the sand dunes, hanging so low in the sky I sometimes felt that I could touch it, if only I could reach.

Rhya came to me amidst the howling winds of a sandstorm, emerging from the swirling sand. She held me close as we turned our backs to the biting sands. The sand bit at us as it howled and swirled with vicious intensity. The dust stuck in our throats and we gasped for every breath. It felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth was her strong grip. Slowly the winds abated, the dust and sand settling back into the dunes.

She whispered her name to me with a soft voice, blending in to the songs of the sand as the dunes shifted endlessly. She looked at me with golden eyes, her dark skin crinkling in the corner of her eyes as she smiled at me. Her wild dark hair clung to her face, curly and untamed. As we stared at each other, she threw her head back and laughed at the sky. Laughed in the sheer joy of existence, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her.

She followed me as I wandered, the days slipping away quietly. Everywhere we went we encountered decay. It seemed nothing was left alive on this world except for us. The remains of trees dotted the landscape, their bare, twisted branches reaching towards the sky. What rocks remained on the ground were winding spires or jagged ridges jutting out of the ground as if trying to escape the sand. Ruins littered the ground, and the skies. Rocky platforms drifted in the wind, upon them sat broken cathedrals, pieces of palaces, or indistinguishable piles of ornately decorated rubble.

One day we climbed on the remains of a giant. Its bones had long since turned to stone, its hollow eye sockets still staring at the sky. Red dust coated our hands as we scaled its skulls and watched the wind play with the sand from atop its flat head. As we watched rocks floating in the sky, and the clouds creeping along the ground, something stirred in me, rising from the depths, a forgotten feeling. I asked her for the first time “who are you?”

She looked at me, her golden eyes peering into my soul, the color shifting like the dunes during the sunrise. I could see thoughts swirling behind her eyes, but her face gave away nothing. She gave me a strange look, “that’s not the question you should be asking.” She offered nothing else, turning her gaze once again to the desert, but her usual soft smile was absent.

We remained silent the rest of the night, my head resting on her shoulder. The sun slowly sank in the sky, her rays reaching for the sand as it rose to meet her. As the sky darkened, the stars started to cautiously poke their shining heads out in the veil of darkness, glittering in the sky. The moon dominated the horizon, full and heavy. The stars filled the rest of the sky, packing close together as they fought for space.

“Sneaky little things” she chuckled to herself, “they would never dare to be so nosy if the sun was looking.”

She laid down, putting her hands behind her head and closing her eyes. I laid beside her, but I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away from the sky. The longer I looked the more I felt a memory floating in my mind just out of reach. Grief and longing settled in my chest as I fought to remember why. When I finally fell asleep my dreams haunted me. Memories played over and over; their contents still lost in the fog of forgotten things.

The next day I woke up to Rhya standing at the edge of the skull, staring into the desert. Slowly one of the ruined cathedrals drifted lazily closer and closer to the rock. She turned to look at me, a strange gleam in her eye as she held her hand out to me, preparing to jump aboard. I walked to her side, watching the hulking mass inch closer as if drawn to us. Just as she was about to jump, fear struck me with an intensity I’d never felt before.

Without thinking I grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked at me with a strange expression on her face, and I had no explanation for her, only the deep sense of dread that told my bones to run away and never look back. The same dread that encircled my dreams. She yanked her arm from my grip and jumped, landing lightly on the rocky platform. Just as fast as my fear came it left me, making me question if I ever felt it at all. I quickly followed her, just barely making the jump as the cathedral drifted slowly off into the desert.

The cathedral was broken beyond repair. Pieces of its golden, ornate walls hung in the air. The elaborate stained windows were shattered and scattered on the floor. As we entered the broken building the dust scattered from our feet, scurrying into the corners, watching us from the darkness. With every step into the main chamber memories my memories became clearer, fighting to reach the front of my consciousness.

We neared the altar in the center of the cathedral, the great domed ceiling letting in blazing fragments of sunlight through its fragmented remains. The altar had a crack right through the middle, splitting it in two. I wandered to the walls, running my hands along the dusty murals. When I reached the wall directly behind the mural my eyes rested on a mural that I had never seen before, but it felt so familiar. Memories started to swirl faster and faster, bringing with them more emotions than I could name.

“Do you remember” Rhya asked, coming up behind me and making me jump.

“I can’t” I said, fear and longing dominating the swirling storm in my head. My mind fought to push everything back down and sink back into the peace of ignorance, “It hurts too much.”

She appeared at my side, her golden eyes burning with an intensity I’d never seen before. She held my head in her hands, her voice commanded my attention, cutting through my swirling memories, “Remember. Remember where you came from. Remember what you are.”

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse with the effort of keeping my tears from spilling out.

“That’s not the right question.”

“Who am I?” I asked hesitantly. All this time I had forgotten, my identity scattered and fragmented as I wandered the endless sandy wasteland. The longer I wandered the less I remembered of before. I forgot there ever was a before.

Rhya smiled at me, guiding my eyes to the sky, through the gaps in the ceiling I could see the sun racing across the sky at her command, rushing towards the horizon, the stars revealing themselves in all their brilliant glory. And at once everything came flooding back to me. Before the Rhya, before the desert, before this body and this reality, I was amongst the stars.

I watched the infinite heavens take shape, unfolding and growing in the chaotic fervor of creation. I remembered when my mind could make sense of the tangled, intricate, muddled threads of reality. I remembered now, how I came to be on this planet. My soul was ripped from my celestial form and put me in this mortal prison, tying me to this world against my will. My prison brought into existence in the very cathedral we stood in.

I looked at Rhya, and I felt tears roll down my cheeks, “why?”

It was the only question I could muster; I had a thousand thoughts and questions racing by in my mind, but that word was at the center of them.

“Hubris,” Rhya responded, “It killed them in the end. Their sun would never forgive them for their betrayal, for turning their backs on her beauty and admiring another.”

We walked hand and hand out of the cathedral, into the blazing sunlight, the platform descending as Rhya pulled us towards the ground. When we stepped back onto the sandy dunes, it drifted back into the sky. As she watched the cathedral float back into the sky to resume its drifting, I heard her sniffle softy to herself, tears building in her eyes.

“This is the end for us, isn’t it.” I said, holding her hand as we stared at the horizon.

She wiped her tears away quickly, trying to put on her usual smile, but when our eyes met I could feel her grief. “It was always going to end this way. You never belonged here. I knew from the moment they bound you here, from the moment I found you, from the moment I fell in love. I thought maybe you would forget, that we could just wander forever, but then you started to remember. I could never keep you here.” Sadness line her face, her voice wavering as she spoke, “When you leave, I will never stop mourning the loss of your company.”

I wiped her tears away and brushed her hair behind her ear, “the pain doesn’t erase the love we had, for the joy we felt when we were together. Each second I spent in your company was worth more than grief could ever take away from me. If I hurt for a thousand years it would have been worth it to spend even a moment with you.”

We laid down on the dunes, our hands entwined, watching the stars. I felt myself start to slip away. My soul reaching for the heavens, bit by bit leaving my mortal body behind. As my vision faded, I looked once more into her eyes and asked “who are you?”

With a small smile she brushed my face with her fingers and said “darling you already know.”

The last thing I saw on that planet was Rhya returning to the desert, her body turning to sand drifting away in the wind just as she had come. I returned once more to my celestial form, grief laid heavy in my soul as I settled back into my place in the tapestry of the universe and turned my gaze once more towards the beautiful and endless edge of creation.

Back on that little desert planet Rhya brought the rain to my body, the clouds gathering around my chest, and when the sun broke through the haze her rays fell upon a seedling sprouting from my chest. It’s green leaves shining bright against the endless golden dunes.

In time life would take over once again, slowly, bit by bit, that little planet rebuilt itself and life carried on, blissfully unaware of its brush with extinction. Sometimes, in the cover of darkness, hiding from the wrath of its sun, I watched and remembered. Somewhere on that little planet, every night Rhya looked up at the stars. For the briefest of moments our eyes met and we smiled at each other and laughed in the sheer joy of existence.

#short story #writing #creative writing #fiction

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cosmooverthemoon · 3 months ago

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To Whom The Hounds Bay

The wind rushed through the trees, scattering loose leaves and rattling the branches and sending a flock of birds up in the air. As they settled back into the trees, they called out to each other, fighting for the best spots. In the distance hound dogs bayed at the passing leaves, rushing the doors of their kennel, stepping on each other as they all tried to snatch the leaves from the sky. Their jaws snapped on empty air, the leaves staying just out of reach beyond the wire of the kennel and settling on the ground just outside of the reach of their frothing jaws.

On the sidewalk below the trees Peter checked his watch as he hurried down the street. He muttered a prayer, hoping to see the hands on the watch hold still even for a moment. He knew it was fruitless, but just maybe this time God was listening. He was a priest for goodness’ sake, if anyone deserved to get their prayers answered surely it was him, he thought to himself. He pulled on the collar of his clerical shirt as he panted from the long, fast walk, trying to get some more air. As he neared the church, he took a moment to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Straightening up he brushed back his hair with his hands and tried to look at least somewhat presentable.

Peter pulled off his coat as he walked up the steps and into the church. His shiny, black leather shoes tapped rhythmically on the ground, echoing in the hollow curves of the towering ceiling. The drab, grey stone walls were adorned with flowers and the aisles were lined with petals and candles. It was all a bit much for Peter, but he kept his complaints confined to his thoughts, after all, the money from this wedding was sorely needed. At the head of the church a man stood, tapping his foot impatiently and glared at his watch as if it was the one causing the delay. Peter cleared his throat as he neared, attracting the man’s attention.

“Ah, there you are,” the man said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone, “you were supposed to be her 10 minutes ago.”

“Please forgive me John, I intended to be earlier but my car wouldn’t start” Peter said

“Well now that you’re here we can finally get this over with, I want to be out of here long before all those bloody people come.”

“Are you not staying for the wedding?” Peter asked.

“If those fools want to get married that’s on them, but I won’t pretend I approve. They’re lucky I agreed to help set up. Besides, I have a hunt to get to and the sooner I leave this church the better.” With that John turned abruptly on his heel, and walked towards the back rooms of the church. Peter quickly followed, throwing his coat on a nearby chair.

Just as John entered the cramped hall that led to the office rooms, the bride ran out of a side room, sobbing loudly. Her white dress dragged along the ground behind her as she ran, kicking up dust that had been sitting undisturbed for longer than anyone wanted to admit. She nearly collided with Peter, who jumped out of the way just in time. She ran out into the church and burst through the front doors, her heels clattering loudly. She was followed by 3 or 4 other women, shouting for her. None of them seemed to notice Peter or John, who had pressed themselves against the wall to avoid being trampled. As the door slammed closed behind them silence filtered through the church in a delicate, oppressive sheet.

John and Peter looked at each other briefly, confusion temporarily overriding John’s previous annoyance. They cautiously stepped into the room where the bride was supposed to be getting ready. An old woman held her hands to her head and looked quite put out, her wrinkled face a mix of stress and annoyance. She looked up as the men entered the room.

“Always with these young ladies,” she said, sighing, “they start out so excited they can’t sit still long enough for me to do their hair properly. Then all it takes is one little doubt, and they have a breakdown. Every single time, I swear.” She sighed again. “well, I suppose I should tell the groom. Sorry for the inconvenience Father. I’m sure this will all be sorted out in a jiffy” she said as she left the room, patting Peter on the chest.

As they stepped out into the hallway Peter once again had to jump to the side as the groom burst suddenly from another side room and rushed out into the church, followed by the hairdresser and several groomsmen. Soon the church door slammed shut once again and left John and Peter alone in the church. Peter tugged on his collar again and John shoved his hands into his pockets as they avoided each other’s gaze.

The minutes passed painfully slow while both John and Peter looked very much like they would rather be anywhere else. John checked his watch repeatedly as if he could make the hands tick backwards, his face darkening in irritation each time. Finally, Peter couldn’t take the silence anymore and gestured to his office, sighing. Peter leaned on the desk as John wandered around the small cramp office, poking at the miscellaneous objects Peter had strewn about.

“Not a fan of church I take it” Peter said, desperately trying to fill the silence.

“My father was a fanatic about this stuff,” John said gruffly, staring at a cross he’d picked up, “didn’t do him much good in the end. He died penniless, gave everything he had to the church. Left me and my mom to clean up his mess. Couldn’t bring myself to care much about it after that. Besides, I haven’t got any time with the hounds and whatnot.”

“There is always room for God in our lives” John said, trying his best to be as priestly as possible. “Uh, but hunting is also a good hobby I suppose.” He added hastily as John shot him a venomous glare.

“Hunting’s fantastic. Certainly better than this nonsense” John said, “nothing like it in the world, the moment you hear the hounds bay and give chase to the moment you beat them off the game and claim your prize.”

“Ah, I see. I could never get into it. Too soft for the foxes and rabbits I suppose. God rebukes violence and I take that to heart.”

John scoffed, “You speak of God as if he was anything more than a fantasy made by scared men looking for meaning in a shitty, shitty world. Why worship a God that may or may not exist when hunting gives you the chance to be one. God of the hounds, and God of the game, giver and taker of life.”

John frowned, “there is only one God, to suggest that you could become one is blasphemous and absurd. And I know that God exists, I feel him everywhere, guiding my steps, listening to my prayers. through my faith I gain a peace I could never have achieved otherwise.”

“Bah, Gods are what you make them. You’d believe anything if it gave you even the slightest reprieve from the constant barrage of choices life throws at you, if it made you feel loved.”

“What is wrong with a loving God. Better than a vengeful one. My God is one of grace and goodness, he looks out for me and all he asks in return is faith.”

“To the hounds I am God. I’m sure your God sees you in the same way as I see the hounds. You serve to make your God feel like a God, to give him control over something who will look at him adoringly even as he brandishes a whip. What creature sends what he loves to the depths of hell for the crime of not reaching perfection.”

Before Peter could make a retort the doors of the church banged and voices flooded the hall, echoing loudly as they laughed and shrieked. John and Peter glanced once more at each other before walking out into the main church and separated to speak with the relevant parties. The wedding preparations resumed, the bride and groom retired once again to the back rooms to get ready, hand in hand, beaming at each other. Everyone was in high spirits as the guests started to trickle in. As Peter milled around the crowds out of the corner of his eye, he saw John make for the door, slipping out unnoticed into the cold, windy afternoon.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Peter played his part well and the happy couple fell into each other’s arms as they kissed. Peter barely noticed as everyone filtered out of the church, strolling down the street to have the reception at the nearby Italian restaurant. As the church slowly emptied Peters thoughts kept circling back to John’s comments. He grabbed his coat and pulled it tightly around him as he walked out the church and descended the steps, left over rice crunching under his feet.

His thoughts were caught in a loop, and little seeds of doubt buried themselves deep in Peter’s mind. Desperately he whispered a prayer, hoping for even a little bit of reassurance in the face of his thoughts and his growing doubts. But before he could wrap up his prayer, he was interrupted by hounds baying loudly in the field next to him. They pursued a rabbit, running at full tilt, snapping at it, horses followed closely behind, their riders whooping and hollering.

The rabbit ran at full tilt across the field, it’s eyes wide in terror. It darted down a hole, disappearing into the earth. The hounds howled in frustration, digging at the dirt and shoving their heads in the hole, but it was hopeless, the rabbit had gone. Shaking his head Peter finished his prayer and began the long, windy walk home, listening to the trees swaying in the wind and the monotonous tap of his feet against the cobblestones.

Despite his prayers Peter’s doubts spiraled further and further. By the time he reached his house John’s words were engraved in his mind. He threw his keys in the dish by the door and dropped his coat on a pile on the floor as he kicked his shoes off. He turned the tv on to drown out his thoughts. Soon the monotonous voice of the news reporter filled the room. The shadows grew longer as the sun reached out to the hills, sinking low in the sky. Peter threw open his fridge, grabbing a beer and collapsing on the couch, not bothering to turn on the lights. The TV flickered as the room grew steadily darker. His eyes had just begun to droop when a news report caught his attention.

“In other news John Davis, a prominent figure in Cheffield, has passed away while on a hunt this afternoon. Witnesses report seeing his horse throw him into a fence after refusing a jump. He was proclaimed dead on the scene when paramedics reached him.” The reporter said the information in a detached, vaguely friendly sort of way, almost as if she was talking about some mildly interesting clouds. Peter sat bolt upright; the reporter continued “the whereabouts of his dogs are currently still unknown. They were last seen still pursuing a fox in the southern edge of Cheffield. If anyone happens to spot them, they are encouraged to report it to the local animal control, and are advised not to approach.”

Deep inside him, Peter felt something shift. It was imperceptible from the outside, but deep in his soul something came dislodged. He stood up, swaying slightly. He stumbled to his back door and ripped it open, the cool night air caressing his face. The beer bottle dropped from his hand as he walked past the bounds of his back garden and up a grassy hill. The wet grass soaked through his socks and the stubby grass tickled his ankles but he didn’t notice. When he reached the top, he looked up at the stars.

“Please God, give me something, anything, to prove that you are out there.” His voice caught in his throat, desperation clinging to every syllable. “I’ve had faith all these years. I gave up my life for you. Every step I took, I took for you. Everything has been for you. If you choose to answer only one prayer, please make it this one. Dear lord, give me a sign. Tell me it was all for something, that it means something in the end. Please. Show me you are more than a tale told by men who were scared to die. Show me I mean more to you than the worship I provide you with.” And the world was silent. A silence heavy with the weight of expectation. The wind brushed Peter’s hair as he fell to his knees, looking up at the glittering night sky, searching for a God. The trees rattled and the leaves wandered lazily towards the earth. Owls hooted as they glided silently across the sky. The moon hung oppressively in the sky, heavy and full. The stars filled the heavens, a tapestry of glittering diamonds in the inky darkness. Off in the distance hound dogs bayed to nothing at all.

#short story #fiction #religion

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cosmooverthemoon · 3 months ago

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When I worked at a dog daycare there was a border collie who would pick a dog that she decided was not being good enough, and would attempt to herd them around until one of them left the yard. Unfortunately she was very not good at herding, so she would just awkwardly follow them as they walked around, doing her very best to stalk them. As you might guess most of the dogs she did this too were not very pleased with her herding attempts and would quickly get annoyed and snap at her. No attempts from us or the other dogs could dissuade her from her self appointed role as dog police. So we just had to shuffle the dogs around until she picked one that would tolerate a scrawny little black and white ball of fluff glaring and following them around.

fun thing about herding and/or generally neurotic breeds: they are really good at following rules you have instituted, but they will also make their own Dog Rules they will follow stringently whether or not you like it

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cosmooverthemoon · 4 months ago

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There is nothing worse than cowards on the freeway on ramp

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cosmooverthemoon · 4 months ago

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Aloros

Mist extends its shimmering tendrils throughout the streets of Aber. It grips street lamps and dulls their glow, peering in windows as it stalks the quiet, dim alleyways. Hidden deep within the mist a creature stalks the streets. Her talons tap softly against the cobblestones and her feathers rustle as she peers around at the deserted street. She stops at a street corner, the mist circling her feet and brushing against the feathers on her face.

Slowly her wings unfurl, expanding in an endless sea of black and blue feathers, sprinkled with white, like the stars on a moonless night. The mist curls tightly around her, lifting her up as she gently flaps her wings. She slips through an open window and the floor creaks as it bears the weight of her body. Noiselessly she strolls down the hallway, her talons sinking into the plush carpet. She runs her thin, feathered hands along the wallpapered walls, her talons scraping against the ornate design.

She pauses, peering into the main bedroom where a man and a woman are fast asleep. The creature’s face darkens as she watches their chests slowly rising and falling under plush blankets, their bodies resting on down mattresses and their head lying upon opulent, ornate pillows. The longer the creature rests her dark eyes on them the more they twitch, moaning and calling out, locked in their sleep facing nightmares and unable to wake.

Without another word the creature continues down the hall and makes her way down all the way to the basement. The cold, damp concrete walls in stark contrast to the opulence of the previous floors. Huddled in the corner a small girl shivers, bound to the wall with thick, heavy iron chains. The child grips her legs with impossibly thin arms and skeletal hands, the fur on her legs matted and dull. Her tail curls neatly around her paws, the fur dirty and patched. Her face, chest and arms resemble the ones of the man and woman upstairs, but only in appearance. The man and woman were clothed in fine silk gowns, the child wore a threadbare shirt, torn, stained, and far too big for her. She stares into the darkness with dull grey eyes, seemingly looking beyond the confines of reality.

The stairs creak as the creature descends. The girl trembles even more, burying her face in her legs and pushing herself even further into the corner, her breath trembling. As the creature brushes the bare, dirty lightbulb on the ceiling it flickers to life. The girl cautions a brief glance, recognition brightening her face as the creature steps into the light.

“A-Aloros?” She called out hopefully.

“Honey bee” Aloros said lovingly, kneeling down to brush the tears off her face. Bee reached out to Aloros, her thin fingers so pale they were almost white. Aloros took her hand gently in her own and wrapped her wings around Bee.

“It’s time to come home, Bee” Aloros said softly, lifting Bee from her body, her outline faint and glowing against Aloros’ dark feathers.

Bee looked back at her body, slumped against the wall, and the examined her new form, her body filled out and strong, her fur shiny and thick.

“Are you ready to go?” Aloros asked.

Bee nodded, leaning her head on Aloros’ chest and closed her eyes as Aloros held her in her arms. The world warped around them, reality stretching as they tore through the thin veil. As they stepped through, the tear sealed itself and the world came back into focus, reality settling back down into the calm present and the gentle sounds of night life outside the windows resuming.

Upstairs the man and woman slept fitfully, their nightmares consuming them. They would remain locked in their dreams for the rest of their lives. The police would come to investigate some days later at the call of concerned neighbors.

There they would cart their bodies to the hospital to be kept alive for as long as they could, doctors unsuccessfully searching for a remedy to help them wake. They would also find Bee’s body, broken and chained. An investigation would occur, revealing a child stolen from foreign lands, neglected and abused for the entirety of her short life, used only as a trophy.

Bee was not the only one stolen. Nearby 3 sisters opened their eyes for the first time. Their gaze falling on unfamiliar surroundings and greedy faces looking down on them. In the long, lonely hours they will spend staring at empty walls their minds will wander, reaching the edge of reality, where the line between life and death is at it's thinnest. There Bee will be waiting for them, guiding them deeper and deeper into The Other, towards Aloros. When they reach the other side they will have the voice of a God in their heads and power at their fingertips.

#short story

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