“Grass. Ruby ridges, blood-colored highlands, wine-shaded glades. Sapphire seas of grass with dark islands of grass bearing great plumy green trees which are grass again…Orange highlands burning against the sunsets. Apricot ranges glowing in the dawns…And there, somewhere…” … she smiled, gently closed the book and examined the well-worn cover, thinking that it would hold for one more reading.
Although it was quite archaic, nothing could replace the feel of real paper and that unique smell that only old, used books held. Marcus would laugh at that silly sign of human weakness, exclaiming: “We are scientists! Act like one, for God’s…” No, he probably wouldn’t mention God, she chuckled to herself.
Stone and water, people called them behind their backs, hard and cold, enduring and persistent, forever marked by their parent’s fame and demise. But, they were only survivors, desperately clinging to each other, as a drowning man clings to a driftwood in the middle of the river, not knowing where it will take him, not having enough strength to swim for shore. The question was, between the two of them, who was drowning and who was just drifting?
Just a fragment of the story that lives in the corners of my mind for quite some time now. Set in the near future, it’s about brother and sister, alien ambassadors to Earth. They are shape-shifters living in a human form for several centuries, feeling more human than alien. Desperately in love with Earth and its inhabitants, they are struggling to stand by while Earthlings and their own species head on for inevitable and tragic collision.
Sigh…I really need to sit down and start writing.