Untravelled World

He walked slowly along the shore, listening to the low rumble of the ocean’s seductive song. White foam fingers crept up to him, touching his bare feet and encircling his ankles. Come in stranger, they beckoned playfully, come in and wash your troubles away. He stopped for a moment to admire the water, a rippling tapestry of regal blue that seemed to go on forever. But sadly nothing goes on forever. That was the problem. The end was near. Gazing out at the mighty sea that merged seamlessly with the sky on a horizon that stretched for eternity, it was hard to believe. But numbers did not lie. He had checked them again and again and again. And then he had given then to others to check. The scientist changed but the facts remained the same. Their sun was expanding rapidly. Soon it would engulf the world. Before that it would become hot, unbearably hot, too hot to sustain life. The world was ending and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Ironically most people didn’t know. Th...

The sun set slowly in the west, melting into the blue fabric of sky and permeating its depths with streaks of orange and gold. The waning light of day seemed reluctant to go, clinging to the world just long enough to allow the two figures that sat outside a small hut, amidst the trees, to finish the work they had started Gabe watched patiently as her grandmother worked, needle in hand, weaving the tapestry in front of her. Picking up her own needle she slowly began to emulate the intricate movements the elder woman had performed, producing the desired patterns. “Excellent,” her grandmother replied, admiring the girl’s work. Gabe was a quick leaner, and quite skilled with her hands. Gabe beamed. She always enjoyed teaching sessions with her grandmother. The older woman had a great deal of knowledge and skills. Not only did she know the art of weaving, but she also knew a lot about plants and herbs and healing, another art which she had taught to Gabe. Often the v...

The sun sank slowly in the sky, recalling golden tendrils back to their heavenly domain. The night crept in, draping the cottage and the surrounding woods in her inky tapestries: doings that went unheeded by the inhabitants of the small house. Tessa sat on the floor of the cottage in silent meditation over an ornately carved basin, while her companion watched and fidgeted anxiously. “Well?” she finally spoke, her shrill voice shattering the silence. Her plump form rocked forward, trying to get a closer look into the basin. “Is he handsome?” In response, Tessa leaned forward. Her thick hair followed suit, framing a small, dark face in curtains of black silk. “Quite,” she replied, waving her slender hand over the bowl. The gesture caused the liquid in the basin to swirl slightly, then solidify, freezing in its midst the image of a face that had lain floating in its ripples. “See for your self,” the sorceress commanded. Her companion peered in eagerly, barely able to suppress her squea...

She was old now, though not yet weary of the life she had led. She still enjoyed her dance around the sun, through the liquid black of space and time, with the stars, millions of them, like tiny eyes watching. She loved watching the others, some older than she was, others younger, dance as well. They would pass each other, running races along their pre destined paths, circling eternity it seemed, yet never tiring, and never imagining that one day it would end. Her time came unexpected. She knew instantly that something was wrong, things were changing and she could not fathom why. These changes would inevitable result in her death. She did not want to change, did not want to die. But more so, she did not want her children to die. They were young still, new born, in the primordial stage of life. They had yet to evolve and grow into beings that could understand what was happening, could fear what the implications of her death would mean. And if she died now, she knew they woul...

The dragnar gazed lazily out the window. The sun was setting, burning its path across the sky as if in angry protest over its departure. Soon the night would come, soothing the scorched sky with its inky blackness, and the moon would ascend to her rightful place as mistress over all earthly beings. And with her rise would come the hunt. The dragnar licked its lips at that prospect. It was growing hungry, and restless. Its eyes flitted nonchalantly towards the doorway; it could smell the human standing there. The hunt would have to wait. There was business to be taken care of first. Slowly it turned towards the door and waited. It watched with the same indifference as the old oak structure swung slowly forward and opened to reveal a slender, female human standing in its place. Her blue eyes flashed instantly to the table on which the dragnar sat. Cold, yellow eyes returned her gaze, its emotionless depths an antonym to the shock, and fear that swirled in her azure orbs. Swiftly she turn...