While I didn’t intent it to be an official Author Arena prompt, an interesting thing happened when I threw a photo onto Notes— a few talented people replied. I’m never one to miss an opportunity I want to showcase their crafted work here, tonight.
Read both stories carefully before casting your vote. Each author has responded to the above prompt, but their interpretations may differ wildly. Consider how they approach the challenge and which story leaves you with the stronger impression.
The poll will be active for one week. May the best author win.
Horns of the Devil
The dhow “Tajir”, a traditional sailing vessel with a long, thin hull, used in Persian Gulf regions, cut through the choppy waters of the Indian Ocean. The sun, a huge orange ball, settled into the water’s horizon as the crew took their evening meal on deck to enjoy a breeze and the view.
Homeward bound, the mood was good, the cargo compartment full of traded treasure, the weather fine. The crew exchanged stories and collective laughter, relaxed and content.
Suddenly, Arzew froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. The wind carried away his laughter, evaporated his smile. The senior sailor slowly lowered his spoon and dish, staring unblinking at the horizon.
Rhourde, a younger crew member, was the first to notice. “What is it, Arzew?”
When Arzew failed to answer, Rhourde looked in the direction Arzew was staring, and froze.
One by one the crew’s attention turned from the conversation to the spectacle mesmerizing Arzew and Rhourde.
A huge black circle slowly descended on the sinking sun. In their minds they knew it was the shadow of the moon, but in their hearts they were at a loss to take the phenomenon as anything but mystical. Fear gnawed at them in small, sharp, bites. Rats chewing away at their rationale.
“Sacré bleu…” someone said in a hoarse whisper, slipping from Algerian Arabic to the older French many grew up with.
Another ran for the captain, rousing him in a panic.
The captain was irritated and not hiding it until he came out on the deck. His heart skipped a beat as the same superstitious nature of sailors gripped him.
Recovering quickly, he spoke to the crew with a calm he didn’t feel. “Ah yes, the Devil’s Horns, a rare sight. Don’t stare too long, you could lose your vision at the full eclipse.”
None of the crew responded, worrying the captain. They were slipping away from his command.
“All hands to your stations!” he trumpeted to break the spell, “We could be in darkness suddenly.”
The crew sprinted to their assigned positions for times of danger.
The captain took his place, satisfied the crew was broken from the bewitchment. He called out orders, some superfluous, anything to fight the racing pulses and throbbing hearts. They might complain later, but a complaining sailor was a happy sailor underneath.
The crew burned their adrenaline off at their jobs. Calming through action and busywork.
The moon continued to outpace the sunset, as if the horizon was fighting the sun joining it.
The Tajir made top speed quickly, racing the growing devil’s horns.
In the end, night overtook the eclipse, the crew relaxed and the dhow was slowed to a more reassuring pace.
The sight would live on within all of them and lead to sailors’ stories for years to come.
HE MOON PLUM
Something mysterious has appeared just offshore in the Texas Gulf.
Nobody knows where it came from. Nobody knows what it is. The Coast Guard circles it. Scientists point instruments at it. Cable news has already assembled twelve experts who agree on absolutely nothing.
Then an old Texan standing on the beach studies the enormous glowing crescent for a while, spits into the sand and announces:
“Moon plum fell outta the sky.”
Silence.
Finally, a reporter asks:
“Did it make a splash?”
The Texan thinks for a second.
“Good question. No. It was as silent as darkness moving in.”
More silence.
Now even the scientists stop talking.
Turns out, the old Texan was closer than any of them.
The object isn’t a moon, spacecraft, portal or warning from another civilization.
It’s the Creator’s toy.
A little device he occasionally drops into the bloodstream to keep things circulating through his enormous veins and arteries.
Because that’s where we are.
We little lifeforms think we’re sailing oceans, building cities, fighting wars and discovering universes. From our viewpoint, absolutely enormous stuff.
From the Creator’s viewpoint?
We’re microscopic passengers moving through the plumbing.
Every one of us gathers a little energy, experience and information during the trip. We eat, build, love, argue, invent, screw things up, fix them and keep moving. Eventually our little cargo gets delivered back into the system.
CoE — Conservation of Energy. Nothing wasted. Everything circulated.
And when enough life, energy and experience have accumulated, the Creator feels something familiar deep inside.
BURRRRP.
Scientists immediately detect the disturbance.
“Extraordinary gravitational event detected over the Gulf.”
The old Texan doesn’t even look up.
“Naw. He’s full.”
Somewhere beyond the universe, the Creator smiles.
“Thanks, little ones.”
Then the Moon Plum begins another lap. <It’s a toy to make you feel> good
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.