We appreciate everyone who submitted to The Oklahoma Review. None of this would be possible without all of you. We sincerely enjoyed getting to review all of your submissions and explore your art. Thank you for letting us show the world what Oklahoma has to offer.
This year when we combed through our submissions, we found something unprecedented for this journal: a handmade Muppet. Isabel the Muppet is an art project submitted by Isabel Bryant who is supposed to be an expression of herself. We decided (with Human Isabel’s permission) Muppet Isabel would be our Cali-from-the-Valley guide throughout the issue. We invited Human Isabel to our studio and did a photoshoot with her Muppet to collect various facial expressions and gestures to add the blurbs and cover that you see throughout this issue. We extend a special thanks to Human Isabel for tolerating us and allowing us to give voice to her art.
Tips hat and dances off stage, Your The Oklahoma Review 2026 team:
Editor and Chief: Jess Garoutte
Managing Editor:
Kestrel Svec
Editors:
Corbin Martinez, Aden Hiner, and Troy Spurlin
Table of Contents
Aqua - Poems* Black - Non-fiction* Lime - Art* Red - Fiction (click on the title to navigate)
Bluecoat Holy Child By Ryn Swinson
Bastard By Jason Hicks
Mud & Sticks By Isabel Bryant
Whatever Flies By John G. Morris
Worry Stones By Jess Garoutte
Natural Falls (1) By Alexis Skurnak
A Mania to Not be Misunderstood By Chris Stiebens
The Shape of Winter By Alexis Skurnak
Magic By Isabel Bryant
An Argument with Heaven By Alexis Skurnak
The Inner Life of Her Speech By John G Morris
TwilightZone By Isabel Bryant
AWE By Sterling Jacobs
Chaos’s Kiss
By Jess Garoutte
Natural Falls (2) By
Alexis Skurnak
Like A Dream By Jess
Garoutte
Connecting With Nature By Isabel Bryant
Forget it All By Alexis Skurnak
A Lifetime Scored by Effort By John G. Morris
A Hunter’s Evening By Isabel Bryant
The Path That Grew Me By Alexis Skurnak
LONGING
By Sterling Jacobs
Future World By Isabel Bryant
High Risk Transport By Katie Gyring
Bluecoat Holy Child
By Ryn Swinson
Once as a child, you found the bare bones of a French horn in the scrap metal’s worn remains of the workshop, exiled, you shoved rags and piled pipe cleaners down its rusted, scorn spiderweb-coated throat, and carried the horn, slung across yourself that summer, like a holy child screaming out-of-key: British invasions and fox hunts. That summer, you turned Mardi Gras beads to pet snakes, entangling them, dragging them along in your glee and it is that spirit, driven by childhood stunts, that I smile at in the mirror.
Bastard
By Jason Hicks
Once again, Mom was screaming at me. It started with the dishes I had washed by hand not being totally clean. Then apparently my “tone” was wrong. I just stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, listening to her yell. There were times I wished she would just slap me and get it over with–at least then the physical pain would go away.
I let my eyes glaze over–allowing my mind to dissociate (a reflex I’ve tried to stop as an adult). Hopefully, my subconscious would pay attention enough for me as I thought about tomorrow. Pappa was going to pick me up early in the morning. We had hay to haul, and now that I was thirteen, I was big enough to throw hay bales on my own into the back of the truck. I also knew that he’d let me drive some once we were done.
I was born a bastard child to high school sweethearts in 1974. I learned what that word meant early on–Mom had said something about it on the phone, and I looked it up. I was always told my father ran off and would have nothing to do with me. I was always told he tried to see me after I was born, but found out later that was wrong.
I later learned he came from a wealthy family, and that I wasn’t part of the plan. He wanted my mother to have an abortion so they could be together. She eventually refused and after I was born, he tried to have her give me up for adoption. My grandparents were going to adopt me, but my mother decided to keep me. I don’t know how life would have been, but I know the relationship with my grandparents might not have been as strong.
From the time I was born until my mother met my stepdad, my mom, my sister, and I lived with my grandparents. We started in El Paso and moved to Chaparral, New Mexico, after my mother divorced my sister’s father. All my maternal memories are of my grandmother, Nana. My mother always seemed to be gone–either at work or out with her friends. There were days I wouldn’t see my mom–she’d go to work early, come home before we got out of school, and then she was off again until after we went to bed. I remember being woken up some nights; she would be digging in our piggy banks, “borrowing” chore and birthday money from us for that evening’s activities–and when the money was gone, the piggy banks also disappeared.
I remember several men coming around–faces blurred into generic male features–except for Harry. He gave me my first “real” baseball glove–and then he was gone too.
Nana and Pappa were always shuttling us to school, doctor’s appointments, or various errands that kids have. Nana was there when we got off the bus, and Pappa would play catch with us or wrestle. Right before I started third grade, we moved to Oklahoma, to a little 20-acre farm between Davis and Sulphur. I was told later in life that it took a little convincing to get Mom to come with us.
I was the new kid at Joy School–a K-8 grade school located between Davis and Wynnewood. When you’re chubby, shy, and new, life can be a little rough at school. And once other kids learned what a bastard was and that I was one, fighting followed.
Fighting was easy–I was a larger child for my age (both chubby and tall) and semi-strong from being a farm kid with an easy trigger to anger. Most fights started either because I was pushed over the edge or I was protecting someone else. I only remember three starting one fight at that school, but they all ended the same–the principal pulling me off my opponent as tears streamed down my face–then a trip to the office where I always chose to get licks. As I said, physical pain goes
away. Fighting wasn’t limited to school. My cousin, who was nine months younger, was a frequent sparring partner. Pappa told me I hit him so hard one time his feet came off the ground, like in a movie. That fight was quickly broken up after that. As adults, he and I finally became friends, ending our physical confrontations.
I only remember one occasion of my grandpa spanking me–and I deserved it. Nana had made dinner, but I insulted her cooking. She responded with the age-old “there are starving kids in China” to which I replied “well, send it to them, then.”
Next thing I know, I was levitating to the living room, where I received the only hand-to-ass spanking from Pappa. Nana told me when I was older that he cried that night from guilt.
At the end of fifth grade, the principal called my grandparents into a meeting (as far as I can remember, Mom never came to the school). As a child, I was book smart–something I clung to. Earlier that year, the entire school had taken the Oklahoma state achievement test. I scored higher than anyone else in the school–past ninth grade in most subjects. Following these results, it was suggested that I go to a larger school with a “higher academic standard.” Therefore, it was decided that the next year I would transfer to Davis.
The fist fights at school stopped, because Davis was strict about fighting, and being suspended or expelled was not something I wanted. Mainly because Pappa had always told me I would be the first to go to college, and how could I do that if I was expelled? Instead, around seventh or eighth grade, I handled confrontations one of two ways–either I totally shut down or I verbally abused the oppressor. If someone wanted to fight, I would release a barrage of insults and cursing. After all, the bastard had learned from the best
In our elementary school years, Mom was still doing her thing. When I was about ten or eleven, she met my future stepdad. I really can’t remember an exact date that we were introduced to him. My sister and I just assumed that life would go on with us living at our grandparents', but we were told that we would be moving out of their house and in with them. At first, we were horrified because the first home together was in Sulphur, and then to a trailer park in Davis
I was thrilled to find out I was going to have a little brother when I was twelve. My sister and I couldn’t wait. We were still getting screamed at and made fun of, but I think we secretly hoped a new baby would take some attention away from us. Boy, were we wrong. The added pressure of a baby just increased the chances of us getting bawled out.
By then, my grandparents gave them part of the farm so they could move a trailer house about 100 yards away. This allowed my sister and me plenty of opportunity to walk over to Nana and Pappa’s.
My sister and I sometimes turned on each other. One epic fight of ours, my sister exploded at me–I have no recollection as to why–but we fought throughout the house. As the fight ensued, I finally grabbed her hands and held her on the ground just so she wouldn’t hit me anymore
We took our frustrations out on each other.
Half-force was better than full.
My sister had her issues also, being abused the same as me, and the added knowledge that her biological father had kidnapped her as an infant and taken her to Mexico. We were told that she was returned because Pappa had ties to the Irish Mafia (I really doubt this is true).
Once I got her restrained, I tried to talk sense to her.
She was past that point. She just screamed.
Before I could explain myself, my mother was on top of me, pounding down on my back and neck as I tried not to fall on my sister with the extra weight, finally rolling to the side as my mother
continued to pound on me with closed fists. I don’t know how–I think my sister saw what was happening and jumped on her to try and stop my mother–and I ran out of the house.
It is impossible to count the days that ended with either my sister or me in our rooms, sometimes crying, sometimes cursing under our breath. One instance I remember, my sister had gotten these jeans with flowers all over them. She thought they were great. My stepdad made the comment, “Those are your blooming idiot pants.” He was usually insulting her or making comments that a grown man shouldn’t be making to a child.
Another time, my stepdad had yelled at and shoved me into a wall–while Mom screamed at me for whatever reason. I escaped to my room with insults of “titty baby” trailing behind me. It was the only time I ever really got close to suicide. I was about fourteen, and I took my boot knife and placed the tip on my chest. I had read you could miss the ribs and hit the heart if I did it correctly. I lay there, trying to work up the nerve to plunge it in–when my stepdad busted the door open because I was still sobbing.
He stopped in the doorway–slightly astonished by what he saw. He took a step forward and that surprise was slowly replaced by a smirk.
“Do it Go on Do it No one will care You’re too much of a pussy to do it ”
My anger changed targets from myself to him. I set the knife on the bed and stared a hole in the wall.
Another kiddo came along when I was fifteen, blessed with another baby brother. I really was happy to have them. Not long after he was born, we were told that Mom and my stepdad were getting divorced after he was caught cheating on her while at work We moved to the Chickasaw Housing in Davis with my mom. I’m assuming that without his income, the trailer was repossessed.
Prior to high school graduation, my mom and my stepdad started to reconcile. I remember one evening he visited, hoping to “win us over again.” Earlier that day, I had lifted a window unit by myself, straining a chest muscle. As a kid, I thought I was having a heart attack because I couldn’t breathe I begged my mother to take me to the hospital I was told I was being selfish, and she couldn’t believe I was interrupting her time. I finally convinced her I was going one way or another–with "titty baby" trailing behind me again as we walked out the door.
I worked and saved as much as possible in high school. From hauling hay or flipping burgers at Sonic, I saved enough and was accepted to Southeastern Oklahoma State University. With Pell Grants, financial aid, and a ride from my grandpa, I moved into 7 Choctaw Tower My mom did go along with us, and I was told my grandpa cried again that night.
SHIT! I didn’t hear the cue for a response–I finally snapped back to the kitchen when I heard “Are you an idiot or are you just ignoring me?” I had learned from experience what to say and just mumbled a “sorry” under my breath.
Instead, my stepdad, who’d been standing by relishing the verbal beat down, shoved me towards my room, pushing me to the ground. “Get your ass outta here!” I heard as he kicked me in the rear, knocking me down again. I scrambled to my feet and took off, making sure not to slam my door as I went in–because that would be another lecture.
My sister crept her way to my room. She was ten and got her fair share during the day. She just kind of peeked in through the cracked door, squeaking out a “You okay?” She knew the answer but felt obliged to ask anyway.
As time went on, I quit coming home, and visits got longer and longer in between. When I did come home, I started staying at my grandparents’ new home in Davis–they moved to a small house
in town because age had slowed them down on the farm. It’s the house I returned to for over 20 years, usually to the smell of Nana’s homemade brownies. It’s the house Nana lived in when Pappa passed away, and eventually, Nana did too. I haven’t been back since.
A bastard child, maybe–but not an abandoned one.
Mud & Sticks
By Isabel Bryant
Whatever Flies
By John Graves Morris For Kaley Muse
Never say yes to gas station moon pies or no to any bird. Whatever flies can never be stale or dull. The heart sings as sunlight drizzles honey over wings
When young, my stomach always made some room for more of whatever there was. The gloom that settled was earthbound. I had to learn that light could be more uplifting, to yearn for less, see how the immaterial sky could nourish, lead to sidereal vision. I have no idea just what clicked and expanded my thinner self, the strict abstemious will to stop my eating whatever snack made me thick. How fleeting the taste, how cloying, regret. A large tang of remorse grew, in disgust, from one pang and turned my hunger outward to the grass in spring and upward to the sky, the sass of jays asquawk or cardinals in flame. In joy. No junk could ever taste the same
Worry Stones
By Jess Garoutte
I stand in a crowded room the way a duck sits in water. My hand in my pocket worrying the stones smooth that I keep there. My back straight, and my face placid, you would never guess the faint smell of sweat comes from me. My eyes, ever so casually, scan the room as if taking in the nice decorations, but in actuality, it is killing me to have my gaze linger on anything besides the clock. The inaudible tick, tick, ticking that I know is there, I can feel it deep in the marrow of my bones. The longest hand chases itself in the most unsatisfying and unbroken game of tag, teasing me as it races at its steady, unhurried pace. My eyes have begun to wander back towards the clock, and my fingers increase their constant circles as my fingerprints are sanded away.
Natural Falls (1)
By Alexis Skurnack
A Mania to Not be Understood
By Chris Stiebens
Ralph had been hoping to plow the day his sister gave up on everything but bar candy. And at first it was but another day of loss and compound disinterest, just life in the “dirty thirties” of rural Oklahoma. Plus, Virginia had always kept to herself anyway, even more so since their father had gone off. And to recall the scathing dust of that day was no wonder but the hen? Why should it squabble up for forty years into his mind’s eye with unmitigable fury? The fowl came up from beneath the car in the driveway. Justly or unjustly, he had assumed the visitor was another scandalmonger from town, for his mother had of late been accused of baking a pinch of poison into a pie at a church social on account of her husband’s loving others and leaving all.
In the kitchen were voices, low and concern-laden. He came up through the parlor, hesitated before entering the kitchen and was sweating by the time he eased into the room. He noticed first that his mother was not sitting at the head of the table. Hunched there was a man in a slack khaki uniform, who with a face as red and cracked as the fields, did not look tenderly at him. Ralph gulped. Then his mother wrenched around and smiled grimly up at him, motioning him over with her wrongly-lit eyes.
Without any inflection, the sheriff said, “Sit down, if you would, Ralph-Henry.”
His mother poured him a glass of water. No one fidgeted or spoke. The only motion was the pitcher sweating wrinkles into the tablecloth.
Ralph tried his mother: “Something has happened to daddy, hasn’t it, momma?”
No answer.
“It’s this, boy, it’s this,” the sheriff had finally said, handing him a wad of paper and breaking, as it were, the spell of his mother’s silence “This here court mandate, see? You see yor’ sister has had a patch of trouble and ”
“What trouble?” Ralph asked.
“Well… how should I put this? First, the facts: today, around three in the p.m., downtown Frederick, Doctor Comp was making his way over to Passmore Drugs to fill a prescription before goin’ on a call in the country and, uh, there, uh there, in the middle of an aisle in said drug store yor’ sister… yor’ sister, was, er, naked…Naked on that floor just eatin’ a bar of chocolate.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to be understood, son.”
“What’s he mean, Mother? What’s happened to Virginia?”
No answer.
“It’s gotta’ be a joke,” he pleaded, “I still don’t get what ”
“I don’t understand it either,” replied the sheriff, “but what can I say? It is some sort of mania.”
Ralph’s mother lowered her head
“Right now,” added the sheriff, “we have the girl at county hospital. You folk are more than welcome to follow me back and visit her tonight if you can tolerate them roads that flooding cut some mighty trenches in em’. Personally, I recummend’ you wait til’ tomorrow to go see her. I’ve also given yor’ mother some papers about the procedures generally follerd’in a case like this.”
Their going the next day was far from easy. Both he and his mother had been up in their respective haunts all night she in the kitchen cleaning and baking something he on the porch out back, trying to gauge by the cicada’s screech what the specific temperature was. And as prognosticated by the sheriff, that drive proved difficult. The road had been ravaged down to bedrock in places and had hardened into a complex of dry, forbidding ditches. Large trucks had slogged through without thought to future travelers, so by arrival at the hospital Ralph-Henry and his mother were addled and sweat-through. The temperature was just into the triple digits. It also did not help that the waiting room at the county hospital had but one caterwauling fan above the nurse’s station. Directly, once they were seated opposite on pear-green divans, his mother took up a Gideon’s Bible and, best he remembers, she was reading from somewhere early in the Old Testament (Job was what suspected) and he recalled her face quickly assumed a satisfied yet assaulted air. He didn’t dare try and speak to her in that instant what with that look and the Word in her hand and not ever, really, again. Rather, the morning following the day his sister had been overcome by a mystery, he kept himself to the pages of a donated Harper’s magazine, an edition dating some six years prior to October 1926 It read:
Insanity, too, was for many centuries thought of as possession by devils, and the punishment of the afflicted individual was the favorite treatment for driving out the demon. Hundreds of thousands of unfortunate insane men and women have been put to the severest tortures even down to the most recent times…Today, no one doubts that disease and insanity can be traced to natural causes and that both can be cured only by discovering the cause and applying the remedies, which have been arrived at by careful and objective study of the disease…
“You can see her now,” announced a voice which did not at first connect.
“Ralph-Henry,” said his mother, tugging at the magazine, and then they were walking singly down a hall as long and bright as any he had seen, the air growing fustier with each step.
At the entrance of his sister’s room, all abruptly stopped. The nurse motioned for them to wait Ralph, squinting to adjust his sight, glimpsing but a single shaft of sun sundering the room through a chicken-wired window. “Virginia?” he called.
No response.
Ralph’s eyes settled at last on the figure of a woman caged by shadow into a corner. “Virginia,” he called again, as with a sweaty hand he felt in his suit-coat pocket for the bar of candy he had brought to solace her. No answer. And then she lighted cross-hatched in the single shaft of sun hand extended claw-like in a mania to not be understood.
It was the last of her he ever saw
The Shape of Winter
By Alexis Skurnack
You thought I changed
When I started treating you
The way we once treated her
Cold and bitter
Verglas around our hearts
Ice like daggers in our mouths
I lost someone to the rot of envy
A hereditary plague that destroyed our family
Spreading disdain through the marrow
I hoped you would remember
What it felt like to stand beside me
To pull eachother out of freezing waters
But somewhere we forgot to let it thaw
Frozen words we let sink us beneath the surface
Permafrost coating our veins until we felt nothing at all
Fractals crystallized along our nerve endings
I wonder if we were numb by design
A familiar pain preserved in silence
Buried beneath a sour resentment
We leave our thoughts to decay
And call that healing
Magic
By Isabel Bryant
An Argument With Heaven
By Alexis Skurnack
They say there is no heaven, for you that rainbow bridge and meadow fields are lies, too that your soul isn’t real there’s no pain behind your squeal and everything you feel is but a figment
I say, if I had a penny for every time my faith wavered, for every afterlife without you I pictured, I could climb up that stack deny all such fact and question God myself
Would He deny one of His first creations? Does innocence define the existence of a soul? Am I to forfeit, one of God’s greatest gifts, and pretend that’s what it means to be loyal?
I refuse to accept that this nature that you left was only intended to be looked at not within
So I face Him on your bridge, He who can move any mountain, any bridge, “What if I told you, looking in is where I found you, every time I saw a soul staring back?”
The Inner Life of Her Speech
By John Graves Morris
With apologies to Douglas Adams
Her words hovered gracefully in the air in the same way concrete bricks don’t arise. Quickly spun out as always in crisis, her verbiage, light and airy, rode the light like the white stars of dandelion seeds, puffing up in the sun so brilliantly, others said.
At that she mutely blinked at a view differing starkly from hers: clumps as gummy as overcooked pasta, lyricism of the glib and ad-lib, hollow music of the temporary.
She yearned for a sonorous gravity, wanted now to slump on a concrete slab by the river, heavy with her despair, hear water murmur unintelligibly and drown out her dark and stony silence.
Twilight Zone
By Isabel Bryant
AWE
By Sterling Jacobs
The night was quiet…until that moment came When the sky began to bellow! Then the clouds hovered together For their morning glory clash!
And from that morning clash Spawned a symphony of sorts; But who’s to say how That symphony would play out?
I can tell you the answer: rain… Soft, sudden rain hitting the ground, Not a single drop out of place; Permeating the air with a freshness that, Once inhaled, one couldn’t help but Relax into the breeze.
Then I smiled myself to sleep, While being subdued in a cascade of an Effervescent AWE….
Chaos’s Kiss
By Jess Garoutte
She ran her hand through her hair and constellations fell from the sky I stood there, bathed in her beauty –as the proof of it rained down upon us
I was stunned into stillness as waves upon waves of stars crashed down around where we stood, and the Earth caught fire. Her smile radiated confidence, and her eyes sparkled the way the stars never could. There was a gleam of mischief behind those eyes that never quite reflected her soul. They threaten to unleash her secret, the piece of her that she tucks away, even from herself –especially from herself.
She takes a step towards me and offers me her hand. Like a puppet I grab for it
We intertwine our fingers, and her hand feels so natural in mine, Like mine was the relief when they chiseled out hers
I keep my eyes locked on hers, the roaring in my ears, as blood Rushes to them and paints blush across my cheeks, blocks out
All the sounds around us. It is just her, and to a lesser extent, me. She tugs on our bond and leads me through the streets
And I follow in a hazy tunneled daze as I watch her flowing dark Hair trail behind her parting gravity with each of her footsteps. When we finally reach the center of town, she reaches towards me And tangles her long fingers in my hair. I close my eyes, and tip my chin
For her heavenly kiss, but all of a sudden, a scream breaks through the Hazy revelry and the smell of smoke tickles my nose
I open my eyes to see the city ablaze and terror fills my chest
Just as she takes grip of my hair and cold lips to mine
And my mind once again fills with a calming smoky haze that fills the city.
Natural Falls (2)
By Alexis Skurnak
Like a Dream
By Jess Garoutte
Paige
The town was what Paige had been searching for. It was a little town with a small shopping district Everything was within walking distance, and all the people seemed friendly and welcoming There was a large Victorian house on a corner lot for sale, and it was not only within her budget but below what she thought she would ever be able to find.
This house was her dream house! Everything she ever wanted as a little girl. A beautiful and grand staircase. A fireplace in every bedroom. Glass doorknobs, ornate doors and door frames. A basement with the perfect amount of creepy – but not too much, because let’s be honest, all basements are a little creepy. Come on! There was even an ivy-covered trellis climbing the outside of the beautiful home! Closing on the house took no time at all, before she knew it, she was holding the keys to her brand-new home in the perfect little town.
Moving is usually a hassle, but when Paige’s neighbors saw her unloading the big moving truck by herself, they came over to help and even brought food. She tried to pay them for their help, but they wouldn’t accept anything besides a promise to help them out in return. Paige was moved in quickly and everything seemed to find the perfect place in the home like magic.
She shook her hair free of its bun, letting her hair settle on her neck and let loose a relieving breath. Finally, after so much time, she can relax and start her new life. A life full of promise and opportunity. Time for a fresh start in a new place.
The dishes that everyone had brought over, while she was moving in, were running out, and it was time for her to start stocking the fridge. She grabbed some of the reusable shopping bags and the car keys. “My new home!” she announced to the walls, hands on her hips, surveying her new life. “This is exactly the way I had pictured my life when I would imagine it as a kid. It’s like it was clipped from a magazine!” She let loose another breath of relief and started walking to the grocery store.
Since the town was so small, it was pretty self-sufficient. The grocery store was mostly stocked with food provided by the local farmers and ranchers, so the food didn’t look like the perfect, blemish-free and uniform foods you saw at regular stores anywhere else. It made the food taste fresher and almost made you feel like you were shopping at the market before the days of industrialization. Without much option for processed foods, Paige just grabbed enough food to get her through the next couple of days and headed home.
Once home, she made an easy meal of pan-fried squash, pork chops and a garden salad. She sat at her kitchen table, fork in one hand and a thriller novel in the other hand while savoring every bite and every page.
Part of the attraction to the town was the lack of internet. “I have had enough of the internet for a lifetime, I doubt I will miss it – much.” She had told her neighbors this when they asked her if she would miss it. Plus, with no internet, she really could have a fresh start. No one here will have seen all the memes and stories about her. Without the internet, she really was just the girl next door.
Melody
After a long night of trying to find the end of as many bottles of wine as she could, the last thing Melody wanted to do was go into town Unfortunately, the pounding headache demanded Tylenol, and she was out of toilet paper. Slowly, and with mutters under her breath, she gives her sweatpants, from the bathroom floor, the sniff test to see if they have another wear left in them and pulls her hair into a haphazardous bun.
Her head was pounding as she dug through the center console of her car, trying to find her sunglasses, blindly feeling for them with one hand as she held the other over her mouth, trying to quash the idea of vomiting before it went any further. Eventually, her fingers brushed against what felt like glasses, and she tugged on it until it came out of the jumbled-up mess in the console In her excitement over finding the cure to the blazing light in her sensitive eyes, she snaps one of the arms of the sunglasses off. With a sigh and a curse, she makes do, carefully tries to balance them on one ear and her nose.
Never has she been so grateful for the lack of traffic on her way to the dinky dollar store, sitting on the edge of the closest town to her. Though there was no traffic, she still managed to hit every red light she came to. Because why would she not?
When she pulls up to the store parking lot, she looks around and doesn’t see any cars. It’s not a holiday. Is it? She pushes the side button on her phone to look at the date. October 28. Pretty sure that wasn’t a holiday, she goes ahead and opens up her calendar, just to double check. No, no holiday today.
The lights are on in the store, so she decides maybe whoever had opened up was dropped off to work, and they just weren’t busy. But tugging on the door proved that the store was indeed closed. No note hung on the door to tell her why.
Blowing a stray piece of her hair that had fallen from the bun, she mutters, “Guess I am going all the way into town.” She tried to bargain with herself, that if she just went home and slept it off, she wouldn’t need the Tylenol, but there was no bargaining herself out of needing toilet paper. She was out, out, she had used the last of it up last night in a drunken epiphany trying to turn her very understanding cat, Tutu, into the best-looking snowman any 35-year-old drunk woman could have made at 4 am and, 4 bottles of wine in, with her last roll of TP. Naturally, when she had passed out, the paper had been torn to shreds and she had awoken in a winter wonderland, in her bedroom.
Pushing the thought of the cleanup to the back of her mind, she dawned her broken sunglasses and climbed back into her car, to drive into town for some more festive decorations.
Paige
Paige had some money saved up, and thankfully had it in cash. Not a single store she has gone to yet has accepted cards. Which was fine, it makes it that much easier to hide her past. No one could track her down if there was no trail leading to her. The money couldn’t last her forever though, she was going to have to find a job. Without TV or internet, they had no use in a Weather Girl, so she would have to find a new calling.
Paige had finished her thriller last night with her supper, so this morning is as good of a day as any to check out the town’s library. Her neighbor Rob, one of neighbors who had helped her move in, had been telling her that she needed to stop by. The town had just got done revamping the library so it would be more inviting for the “younger folk”. What younger folk he was talking about, she didn’t know, because she hadn’t met anyone around here younger than 60 yet.
The library was a further walk than the grocery store, but just about the time she was starting to get tired, the library appeared at the end of the next block. It was an amazingly huge and beautiful building. It looked like something the Romans would have built. Pristine white columns surrounded a smooth granite building with subtle grey and pink streaks in the stone. It had a grand set of steps leading up to 20 foot, twin, solid mahogany wood doors. Each of the doors had identical intricate etchings on them, mirrored to the other, so the pattern matched up in the middle.
“Jesus, I don’t know if I can even open these suckers,” Reaching out to grab a handle, she realized that there was none. There was not a handle to be seen on either one of the giant doors. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she took a couple steps back, careful of the stairs behind her, and looked the doors up and down. Nothing. You could barely even see the gap between the doors.
Feeling stupid, she decides to walk around the corner, to see if she can find maybe a side entrance, when she hears her name being called. Turning around, she sees Rob huffing up the stairs to her.
“Hey there neighbor, you should have told me you were coming down here, I could have kept you company on your walk over.”
“Hey Rob,” Paige said, making her way down the stairs, meeting him halfway down them. “It was kinda a spur of the moment decision, turns out my book last night was a little more interesting than I thought it would be.”
“Still adjusting to the no internet life?”
Blushing a little, Paige nodded her head yes. They made their way back up the steps to the large doors. “Is there a side entrance?”
Rob stopped walking for a moment and turned towards her, “Not that I am aware of, why do you ask?” his face full of curiosity.
She wrinkled her brow and gestured broadly, “How else are you supposed to get into the building?”
Confusion on his face, he walks up to the double doors and simply yanks on one of the polished silver handles, delicately etched with words in a language long forgotten.
Paige’s mouth drops in astonishment but follows him inside.
Melody
When Melody got into town, she had to keep reassuring herself that she had already checked the calendar, and there was no holiday today Every street she drove down, every parking lot that she passed was empty. There weren’t even cars in people’s driveways. There were no children playing in the yards, or joggers beside the road. It was like everyone left town in the middle of the night.
When she finally pulls into another store parking lot it, like all the others, is empty, and no sign of life, but she still tries the door. There was no “we’re closed” note on the door, just a “have you seen them” sign posted on the glass door. Thankfully when she pulls on it, it easily glides open. Inside, the store is dark “Hello?” She hollers down the darkened aisles No wonder lots of scary movies or thrillers take place in abandoned malls or stores. The whole thing is uncanny. No one answers her, so she turns the flashlight on her phone on, and ventures inside. She had passed half a dozen other stores on her way here, and they all were in the same condition, really no point in going somewhere else. Maybe there is someone in the back unloading stock, or something.
The further she gets away from the front, away from all the windows, the darker and creepier it gets. Every now and again, when she got especially spooked, she would call out to see if there was anyone around She almost wanted to hear something, anything, to break up the unending silence of
the store. She had been to this store hundreds of times before, but somehow with the lights off, it felt like this was her first time.
Eventually, she finds her way to the toilet paper, and then meanders her way over to the medication area, to find some pain relief for her poor head, when she decides to treat herself to a new pair of sunglasses, the cool kind with TWO arms, one for each ear. She gets to the counter and draws a blank. She has sunglasses, toilet paper, the medication, and two debit cards and a handful of (mostly) maxed out credit cards. If she had cash, she would just slap it on the counter and call it a day. Who keeps cash on them anymore? Also, she didn’t catch the prices for the items. It didn't really matter, she drove all the way to town to get these necessities, it would be a shame to go home empty handed. Putting the idea of jumping over the counter like a cool kid in an 80s movie out of her mind, she simply walks around the conveyer belt and starts pushing buttons on the computer, trying to wake it up. It wakes up, but it asks for a log in.
“God damn it, just please let me give you money, fuck!” Melody says as she slams her hand down on the keyboard. This has got to be the worst day of her life. She wakes up with a pounding headache, and a destroyed house and no toilet paper. She drives into town, only for there to be NO ONE here.
At that, she stops for a second, temper cooling, she really hadn’t put a lot of thought into that one. Yeah, she lives out of the way, but the highway into town is always full of cars that piss her off, especially in the mornings, when everyone is on their commute to work. Where is everyone? When was the last time she left her little square of land?
She had been sacked from her dream job about a week ago, and had been hunkered down in her depression hole for… three days? Four? When was the last time she talked to someone? The day she cleaned out her desk? The day after? How long has everyone been missing?
Paige
The inside of the library was the stuff of dreams The building reminded her of the TARDIS from Doctor Who. The building didn’t look small on the outside, but once inside, it looked like it went on forever. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined up like Emperor Qinshihuang's terracotta army. Paige inhaled, taking the smell of old books and paper.
They walked down into the stacks, Paige scanning all of the shelves. All of the books were well worn, well-loved and read. They all looked so old. Some of them looked like if she tried to pick them up they would crumble into dust. Yet, the whole place was spotless. No dust or dirt anywhere. Usually, places like this would have her sneezing up a storm, but there were no allergens in the air “This place is amazing! Who is the librarian?”
Rob reaches up and absentmindedly scratches the thinning area on his head, “Well, we used to have one, her name was Beth, but she passed away, oh, a number of years ago. Since then, it pretty much just runs itself. We all just chip in a little when we come return or check out a book. You will see, a lot of places around town are ran that way.”
She looks around her, they were far enough into the stacks now that she could no longer see the front doors, but she couldn’t see the back walls either. This place was massive. There was no way they just “chipped in” every now and again and it was this clean and organized. She reached out and drug her hand over the cool stone of one of the bookshelves. The shelves themselves were some kind of white stone, held up and together with a dark wood frame.
Eventually, she ran across a book that caught her eye. Sense and Sensibility, By A Lady, it had a blue spine and a cream-colored cover and came in three volumes. “Is… is this a first edition?” she had meant to ask Rob, but there was no way he could have heard her, her voice was barely a whisper. As gently as she could, she cracked open the book to the first page, right at the bottom, published 1811. She held in her hand a first edition copy of Jane Austen’s first published book. She quickly, but carefully, put the book back onto the shelf.
“You looked interested in that one, why don’t you take it home?”
“I – I couldn’t, I think this might be a first edition.”
Rob gestures around him and laughs, “Most of these books are! I insist you take these three,” he plucks the three volumes off the shelf, “Take these home and read them.”
She started to protest, but he thrust them into her arms. If she didn’t take them, he would have let them fall to the ground! “Thanks, I’ll take good care of them and get them back soon,” she said in a small voice.
He started leading the way back up to the front doors, “No problem, keep them as long as you want. I don’t know if you have noticed, we have an overabundance of books here, I’m sure they won’t even be missed.
Rob chatted about this and that as they made their way back to their houses. It was always so strange to her, how these people lived all the way out here, had no internet, no TV, yet were always up to date on current events They didn’t even have a newspaper, to her knowledge
They neared her front door, when Rob turned to her, with a smile on his face, “Hey, I know it is none of my business, but how would you feel about being our new librarian? You seemed to really enjoy the library, and once again, it's none of my business, but you seem like you have been looking for a job. It seems perfect for you.”
“Oh!” Shocked at the offer, it came out closer to a squeak, than a word, “Sure! That sounds like a grand idea. I just wish we had some kiddos around, I would love to do a children’s book club or something.”
“Perfect, I will talk to some of the board members tonight and see if we can get a salary set for you. As for the kiddos, I bet we would be able to find some around here somewhere. Anything to make you feel more comfortable in town.” He strode off across the street to his house, and Paige watched him disappear into his house, while she hugged the three treasures in her arms.
Later that night, curled up in her big bay window, she was reading the first volume, when movement on the street caught the corner of her eye. Two kids, seemingly just appeared, in the street chasing each other.
Melody
Deciding it can’t be helped, Melody grabs her items and makes her way back to her car. Her stomach starts to grumble on her way out of town. Usually, she would swing by a fast food place and get something quick, that she could easily snack on, on her drive back home, but something told her there would be no use in even trying. They would all be closed. Her stomach let out another grumble, so she decides to take a short cut home. No need to watch her speed. Along the back roads, she doubted she would run into any cops.
Deciding she might as well pop a couple of Tylenol, so maybe she could sneak in a headache free nap when she got home, she reached over to the passenger seat to grab the bottle. It had rolled to the far side of the seat, making her have to stretch a little further than she was normally comfortable doing, while driving. When she popped back up, she had to slam on her brakes, before she hit the woman waving her hands at her, standing in the middle of the street. She barely stopped fast enough, her front bumper almost kissing the young woman.
Anger raised up into Melody’s chest, road rage threatening to claim her, when she remembered the empty town. She shifted into park and ran out of the car, leaving the door open. She ran to the woman and embraced her into a bone-crushing hug.
The other woman started to cry.
The two women stood there for a long while, listening to the car ding-dong rhythmically asking to be closed, embracing each other with tears running down their faces. Eventually, the other woman pulled out of the hug and wiped at her tear-streaked face, with the sleeve of her shirt. “I am just so happy to see another person!”
“Me too! How long have you been out here by yourself?”
“It has been two days! Two since my husband disappeared, and three since my two kids did.” Tears started to gather in her eyes, and her voice sounded thick when she started talking again. I was cooking dinner, and they were in the living room being rowdy, chasing each other, when it just went silent. I went to check on them and I couldn’t find them anywhere. The next day, Dale and I were having an argument, and right there in the middle of it he… he just…. Poof.”
Melody pulled the poor lady into another long hug, soothing her with hushing noises and slicking her long hair down with her hands. “My name is Melody, what’s yours?”
Her tears starting to dry up, she pulled back and introduced herself as Anna “If you don’t have any objections Anna, why don’t you jump into the car with me, and we can go to my house. We can talk and clean up some shredded toilet paper, maybe crack open a bottle of wine.
“Shredded toilet paper?” Anna asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.
Paige
It didn’t take long for Paige to fall into a routine. She would wake up, make something small, but filling, for breakfast, and head to the library. Once there she would explore the big building, with a pad of paper, trying to catalog the books that they had. There was no card catalog or organization bin that she could find, though the books themselves were all organized in a semi-predictable manner. The further she went into the library the older the books got. Some of them seemed impossibly old, at the same time, the ones near the front seemed impossibly new, like they had just been released.
At about noon she would take a break to walk over to a local restaurant, run by a single father, and then take his two kids back to the library with her to read some books together. When the restaurant closed at 3 o’clock, the father would come by and pick up the kids to take them home.
She would stick around for a couple more hours, helping people if they came in (they rarely did) or just continued her cataloging. She could spend a few lifetimes cataloging all of these books. She would have to talk to Rob about maybe getting some help to tackle the issue. Even though the library was clean and well taken care of, there were plenty of things around to keep her busy. When she would make her way home every night, she would be asleep by time her head hit her pillow
Every time she thought she had met everyone in town, or had seen everything there was to see in town, she would meet someone new or find a new place to visit. Some days, it felt like the town was growing overnight. Every couple of days or so she would see a new family with small children and invite them to the library. Most of them would show up, but none as frequently as the two that she went and picked up every day.
Rob or some of her other neighbors would often have her over for dinner, but when she ate at home, she was always able to have a wide selection of meals. When she had first moved into town, she thought she would just have to get used to less varied mealtimes than what she had been used to, without the aid of Hamburger Helper, and other commercialized box meals. But every house that she went to for dinner, she always left with that night’s recipe, thoughtfully written down on a card. Eventually, with enough recipes, she was able to start putting a new spin on them and coming up with new ways to make great meals.
Before long, it felt like she had lived her whole life in this town. Her old memories started to fade as she made new ones. Most days she was so busy she didn’t even think about her past life. Finally, she was able to start moving on with her life.
Melody
Melody was able to fill Anna in on her strange day on their way back, both women over the moon at finding someone to talk to. When they got back to Melody’s farm home, Anna announced she was starving and made herself at home in the kitchen. When evening fell, they were both so
scared of the other one disappearing, they decided to sleep together in Melody’s large bed. Tutu was not the biggest fan of the arrangement, but eventually, she was able to accept it and settle down for the night.
In the morning, the girls gathered in the kitchen, making breakfast and coffee together like they had never known anything different. They spent the day together, never letting the other one out of their sight.
The days passed on uneventfully. Some days they would go into town and get groceries or whatever else they needed for the house. They no longer bothered trying to pay, there was no use in it. Months had passed and they were still the only people around. Sometimes they would take a drive to other towns, to see if they could find other people, but they stopped doing that shortly after starting, when the searches kept coming up empty. One day, Anna was washing dishes, and Melody was drying and putting them away. Anna was handing Melody a plate when it fell and crashed to the ground. Anna spun around to see Melody standing unnaturally still in the middle of the kitchen. Anna reached out to grab her arm-
Anna
Melody and Anna were sisters who had always been close. They grew up in the big city and were tired of the everyday bustle, so they searched high and low for the perfect place to live. Alone there was no way for them to afford a house, but together they could.
When moving day rolled around, they were so surprised at how welcoming and helpful everyone in the neighborhood was. Everyone brought casseroles and chipped in on helping unload the moving truck. When they offered to pay them back, they just asked that the girls help them out sometime in the future.
Anna was offered the job of assistant librarian. She was excited to start her dream job in the morning. Finally, her life was starting to fall into place. Everything felt just like a fairytale.
Connecting with Nature
By Alexis Skurnak
By Isabel Bryant
He said “forget it all,” And turned the other cheek And I never thought those words Could make me feel so weak
I thought it would be easy If I gave it some more time, But I folded like a letter, Creased at every line
I think I always knew That we weren’t built to last But I can’t push away the memories, And I can’t regret the past
He said “forget it all” And pushed my heart away Maybe in the future I won’t think of him every day
And maybe when I breathe It won’t echo what I knew, I can remember what we had Without longing for him too
Next time I’ll be wiser Next time I won’t fall Because I buried love that night, When he said “forget it all”.
Forget It All
By Alexis Skernack
A Lifetime Scored by Effort
No matter where we are, we will always find light. If we look hard enough, gather, the wind will strew dandelions like suns. No matter where we go, trudge through whatever mud, we sleep on bone linens.
No matter who we are, who we become depends upon a lifetime scored by effort. No one climbs the stairs, his lungs swelling to an oxygen nimbus once, but over, over, blanching the dark stars bright.
By John Graves Morris
A Hunter’s Evening
By Isabel Bryant
The Path That Grew Me
By Alexis Skernack
We walk the path of broken lives, bitter tears and bitter lies
The shadow of our future grasping at our feet
We ran from our buried youth, our dust covered, innocent truth, not knowing who would greet us beyond the bridge
And standing against the water, flowing faster, further, hotter, I look back at all I’ve left in my tread.
There stands a man twice my age, growing old and full of grace My shadow slowly sinks his feet beneath the earth
Beyond the bridge of age and shifting of time and love and all worth giving, a face looks back I narrowly recognize
My teeth, my chin, my eyes before me the thoughts, the mind of lives that bore meonly then did I see it written in the sand
We walk the path of broken lives, We find ourselves in others eyes, becoming who we never thought we’d be.
Reflections of faces
Familiar sally forth
From those whose souls
Once very much alive
Cast a collective gaze
Towards my direction
While moods of tenderness
Coalesce within my heart.
These many blessed Spirits
Who they were, what they
Meant are encapsulated
In moods of endearment.
I remember them well
Yet clarity comes
From a legacy of love
Forged forever in truth.
Such is comfort in knowing
Those whose suffering is expunged.
Yet I’ll always feel a longing
Perpetuated by their absence.
LONGING
By Sterling Jacobs
Future World
By Isabel Bryant
over her sh careen pt runnin its knife- dition of glow y remar
No crap, Lina! Can you keep us still? Are you even using the shields? Amalfi shouted. She was in no mood for Lina’s sarcasm at the moment.
“Sorry Cap, we have to conserve the juice if you want to use the EMP gun,” Iris the mechanic piped in.
Rounding another corner, Amalfi ran past the mess, where Leone and Lina were driving the remaining pirates back towards the airlock with a variety of weapons.
“You got this Captain!” Leone shouted encouragingly, smacking a pirate on the head with his staff. The pirate crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Lina had a stunner in one hand and a tranq gun in the other, and was dropping the enemy boarding party with uncanny precision, only missing when her hands twitched Iris has cooked up a serum that fought off the effects of stunners, in ways better left to the imagination. Side effects included insomnia and brief muscle spasms.
Lina glanced at Amalfi as she ran past, her eyes hidden by the interface helmet that connected her to the ship via neural implant, allowing her to fly even as she fought off intruders.
“Any day now Captain ”
“Thank you, Lina, very helpful.”
Iris spoke into the crew comm channel again. “Hey, I just want you to know that I really, really appreciate letting us catch the bot instead of trashing it. I have ALWAYS wanted one of these babies! I owe you big-time, Cap!”
Combat robots had been illegal since the end of the Territory Wars, but occasionally one would pop up, usually in an independent moon settlement. Amalfi had never seen one on a ship before, and she didn't care for the experience. Something about being in a confined area with something so fast was unsettling.
Especially when it was almost on you.
Growling in frustration, Amalfi tossed a flash bang grenade behind her to slow it down. She was almost to the engine room, where hopefully Iris’s trap was ready. Either the robot would be stopped, or some portion of her backside was about to be slashed to ribbons.
Almost there…
“They've retreated through the airlock. We have seven unconscious on this side. I've secured them,” Leone said through the comms. “No communication yet, I think they're waiting to see how their bot does. It's up to you now, Captain.”
The door to the engine room was wide open, and Amalfi threw herself to the ground, sliding over the metal plating and hitting an engine component with a painful thud. She was definitely going to have bruises after this.
The combat robot came hurtling after her, its metal claws sliding just a little on the floor. Just as it was about to pounce, Iris leaned out of cover and fired an EMP pulse gun
The robot slid to a stop, unmoving, and Amalfi breathed a sigh of relief as she shakily got to her feet. Iris whooped in delight, nearly dropping the massive gun.
“Allllright Captain!! Nicely done!!!” Lina chimed in over the ship-wide intercom. “I messaged the pirates that their robot was down, they offered a “cessation of hostilities” as long as we return their crew members and the bot I told them to shove it or we’ll reprogram the bot and have it attack them.”
“Sometimes it's nice to have a mechanic with mysterious black market connections and illegal EMP guns,” Leone said with a grin as he walked into the engine room. He joined Amalfi and Iris in examining the robot.
Iris was practically bouncing in excitement “You know what this means, Cap? Next time pirates or raiders try to mess with us, we just send a vid call that shows this little guy and they'll run for the Belt!”
“I told the pirate captain that the bot is reprogrammed and rebooting. They offered terms and would like to request a parley with you, Captain.”
Amalfi rolled her eyes. Pirates were grudgingly tolerated by two of the three Sol system governments in exchange for services rendered during the Territory Wars, but the long and complex code the pirates had to legally operate under was a pain to deal with. Any pirate attack that involved both parties following the non-lethal regulations ended up being a convoluted legal transaction. Every member of her crew, herself included, were against killing, even in self-defense if at all possible. They had each seen enough death during the Territory Wars to last a lifetime. Besides which, using deadly weapons against pirates meant that the pirates could respond in kind. But still, Amalfi reflected, better some annoying paperwork and survival than dealing with raiders, who had no code of any kind.
After long and boring negotiations with the pirate captain over vidcomm (which sped up considerably after Iris sent the newly reprogrammed combat bot up to the bridge), the seven captives were given back in exchange for a container of rations, and the Desert Rain Frog was free to continue on its way.
Amalfi called a crew meeting in the mess and headed down. Leone was already there, his long black hair occasionally falling over his dark eyes as he eagerly dug through the crate of rations, pulling out boxes and bags and exclaiming over them. Leone was the ship’s cook, in addition to providing extra muscle in the event of danger. Like all of the crew, he was a pacifist, having seen enough death during the Territory Wars to make him determined to never kill again. A skilled martial artist in a variety of forms, he used a staff to repel boarders and was patiently trying to teach Amalfi more than just basic self-defense. The captain was a great shot, but her hand-to-hand combat skills were sorely lacking. He never got frustrated with her clumsiness. Or with anything, really. Leone was the single most kind and positive person Amalfi had ever met.
The mess was a cozy room. The metal table was covered in an old patchwork quilt top, an ugly yellow ceramic bowl that was usually filled with pastries or fruit in the center. Iris had painted blue skies and soft white clouds on the ceiling and hung cheerful string lights around the window, transforming the vastness of space into a piece of art on the wall of their ship. Leone kept the crew supplied with coffee, tea, and snacks throughout the day, cooking one proper meal in the evening (standard Martian time). It was the heart of the ship, a place of good smells and laughter.
Leone had a pot of coffee ready, and Amalfi poured cups for the two of them, adding the splash of cream Leone preferred “Anything good?”
Leone lifted his head and grinned, sending Amalfi’s heart racing. One of the few things the three women of the crew could agree on was how attractive Leone was.
Especially when he smiled.
“Coffee, rice, protein blocks, all good, but this,” he said, holding up a small glass jar, “this is the real prize In this very jar is a spice called saffron Incredibly rare and expensive even back in Earth days. Now, it’s worth…I don’t even want to say because Lina will make me sell it. I’m going to make you the best rice you’ve ever had tonight!”
“I’ve decided to call him Sparky!” Iris announced as she walked in, followed closely by the combat bot. She grabbed her own cup of coffee and sat at the table, the bot settling near her on the floor like a pet Iris was in her fifties, but looked older, her face lined from what she called “hard living.” To the rest of the crew, the bleach-blonde woman was an eccentric and lovable Aunt with a hidden past. Mostly hidden. They all knew far too much about her five ex-husbands.
“So what sort of program did you install in the, um, Sparky?” Leone asked pleasantly.
Iris grimaced a bit. “Okay, so I did just upload some robot pet software, but I’m going to modify his code so that he’ll fight off intruders.”
“It’s a he?” Amalfi asked.
“Of course. Look at him!” she gestured to the silvery, skeletal robot with no defining characteristics whatsoever.
“Remind me why we started taking high-risk deliveries again?” Lina groaned as she walked into the mess. The pilot had left the ship on autopilot and taken off her interface helmet for a change, allowing the crew to see her brown eyes and short black hair. Amalfi’s best friend since they were two kids growing up on Neptune Station together, Lina was one of the best pilots Amalfi had ever known, and incredibly kind and loyal underneath her occasionally prickly exterior.
“For this,” Amalfi said, gesturing around them. “The Desert Rain Frog. Home. Freedom.”
“Definitely worth it,” Leone said. “Three years till we-well, I mean, the Captain-own the ship outright.”
Iris looked up from messing with her new pet. “When that gate opens, we’re goin’ through. Can’t do that if you’re stuck in a contract.”
The room went quiet for a moment as everyone contemplated the near future. After an incredibly long voyage, a warp gate was only four years away from being hauled to the Proxima Centauri system. For the first time in human history, interstellar travel would be possible. Planets, moons, and asteroids would all be opened for claims, and the possibilities would be endless. A few conspiracy theorists on the InfoNet were convinced that there were aliens waiting, but most of humanity waited with baited breath for the gate to be activated.
The thought of exploring new and untamed frontiers was exhilarating to Amalfi. She and Lina had dreamed about Proxima Centauri as kids. When Amalfi had seen on the job boards that the Planetary Preservation Alliance was offering five-year delivery contracts that led to ship ownership, she couldn’t resist the opportunity. The rest of her crew was willing to take on the high-risk jobs, contending with pirates and raiders for the chance to be free to explore.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Lina sighed. “I’m just sick of fighting so often. And taking Iris’s weird drugs.”
Iris didn’t use the mixture, due to having addiction problems in her past, but for a non-lethal crew, overcoming stun guns was the only way to win. The official serum used by soldiers was far too expensive. Iris, therefore, couldn’t help much during combat. That was part of the reason she was so thrilled to have a combat bot It could fight for her
Iris didn’t respond, lost in her tablet as she played with Sparky’s code.
Leone frowned. “I know it seems…sketchy, but the Medi-Scan Program keeps saying there’s no long-term side effects.”
Amalfi sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Six attacks in two years. Three shipments per year. Three more years until the ship is ours ”
“Yours,” Lina corrected.
“Well, yes, except for your cabins. My crew has a home on this ship for as long as they want it.”
Lina cleared her throat and looked down, and Leone’s eyes welled up a bit. Iris was playing music over her comm and didn’t hear
“That means a lot, Captain,” Leone said with another dazzling smile.
Amalfi excused herself before the moment got too maudlin and went up to her cabin to clean up. After a quick shower, she stared at herself in the small mirror while she brushed her wavy, strawberry-blonde hair. Her face, and much of her body, was covered in freckles. Her dad had joked that she was destined to be a spacer, since she had so many constellations on her skin. Yet he hadn’t been happy when she’d left the station behind to live the wandering life of a spaceship crew. Amalfi needed to feel free, to be able to go where she wanted when she wanted, to see the solar system. The thought that soon she might see an entirely new solar system gave her chills. Proxima Centauri had no wars to haunt her.
She studied the reflection of her hazel eyes. “Three more years,” she said solemnly.
