This was an entry for the July 2020 Furious Fiction competition run by the Australian Writers’ Centre. Entrants are given 55 hours from the first Friday of the month to write a 500 word story while adhering to set criteria. The winner receives a prize of $500. Due to the time pressure and its tendency to come up when I’m most busy, I typically don’t produce very inspiring work but its an enjoyable exercise for creative muscles.
The criteria for this month’s Furious Fiction was the following:
- The story must take place at either a WEDDING or a FUNERAL.
- The story must involve something being cut.
- It must include the words ‘OVER’, ‘UNDER’ and ‘BETWEEN’.
She locked her eye with mine. Rivulets of rich magenta streaked through its opal sea.
“You have been crying?” I asked.
“I… I thought they’d make it out.” Her words were heavy, seeping like tar into the recesses of my mind.
I nodded and looked out under the wings, through the deep darkness. “Perhaps they thought they would as well.”
“We could have saved them. We- we could have at least tried.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not our place-”
She scoffed. “It’s not our place to interfere with nature’s course. I know.”
She turned away from the window and gestured towards the empty observation deck.
“I had imagined that more would have shown up for the funeral.”
“Hmm, they did not become as attached as we did.”
“As we should have done.” She went to wipe her face with a handkerchief from her pocket and then stopped herself.
“It will be some time before we break their habits.” I remarked.
She bit her lip and nodded as she folded the handkerchief and replaced it within the folds of her dress.
“What will you do now?” She asked.
“We have new assignments. I will remain with the ship until our work is complete. Will you stay?”
“I think I might go home.” She swallowed. “It’s seems like a millennium since we left.”
“Maybe it has been.” I looked across to the sun, as it passed between the worn marking pillars. “It has become difficult to tell.”
We spent a moment looking through the window in silence. Watching the universe pass us by.
“It just… happened so suddenly.” Her words ceased but the dolorous moaning of her grief continued to wash over my mind. Like the evening tide over dark sand. There were times when I hoped for the inability to feel the weight of words. To live in blissful ignorance like those below. This was one of those times. I watched as she slumped, like a puppet with its strings cut.
She turned and shuffled past silently. The energy drained from her and with it, the pressure of her words lessened.
“Goodbye Villor.”
“Farewell Ferla.”
I sat in the moted light. My hand hovered over the tablet as I looked out through the glass of the observation deck. The green and blue planet floated silently in its quiescence. Its cycle had ended and now it would heal. We will come back here again, as we always do to watch the recrudescent start of new life, but it would not be the same. Gone was the passion and the kindness. Gone was the irrational joy that threatened to outshine the sun. Gone were the people filled with love who filled cities with light. We had spent so long assiduously studying this planet. Holding onto hope that it was the humble beginnings of the Great Ones who would lead us into a brighter future. Again, we were disappointed.
I sighed and finally sent the last report home.
‘HUMANKIND – DECEASED’
Cheers,
Marcus
Caravellum 
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