Eerie Nights at the Tundra (preview)

Posted on: Wednesday, September 27th, 2017

Hey, guys. I’m currently writing a story that might actually turn into a novelette / webfic / something IDK yet. I’d like to share a preview of it and will be working on this story alongside “Nessie, BB” (anthology), “The McKinley Party”, “The Incomplete Range”, “WAtE”. and so much more.

 


 

“Can you envision the trees that could be there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Epiclesia.”
“Light forestation?”
“Bright, lime-y, like heavenly descent. I see them.”
“Don’t let your brain fool you.”
“But I can see them,” Min insisted.
“Your eyes do not. It’s all in your head. We need to continue our work, and be done with it.”
“And be done with it.”

Teku, about 38, the second oldest crew member of the SOJCC, handed a crowbar to the confused Min. Both stood at five foot four while tall Sonja, who sat quietly in the corner of an ice slop, tested her footing.
“Sonja, what are you doing?”
Sonja seemed to have been trying to hold back tears and failing. She kept prodding the ice and absent-mindedly twirling her corn hair. The necklace, hand-made by her late wife, Geraldine Wells, just disappeared into the hole they drilled half an hour ago. “Don’t sink. Don’t sink,” she pleaded.
“This isn’t the time to be playing games, tower lady.”
“I don’t play no nothing,” she snapped back.
“She’s under some sort of trance. We need to do what we came for and get us the hell outta here.” Min ignored Teku’s wavering voice. The team is alone miles away from the nearest chippings of the tundra but they know exactly where the ice melts to their eight o’clock. “Min, you hearing me?”
There was, of course, no breeze to hinder communication. Min stared upwards, to the indigo landscape, and back to the absence of clouds, turning his face as orange as could reflect.
“We need to finish the work!” Teku said.

Sonja hurried towards the armored van and pushed the dead soldier, Mathiu, out from shotgun. Another body to accessorize their hellish nightmare. Miles and miles of ice, and only three survivors in a crew of fifteen.
They had already given up moving the bodies after Priya died from the same methane poisoning that quickly wiped out the rest of them.
Sonja pumped the gas but the van, already half-buried, barely moved an inch.
“We need to finish the work,” Min said, finally snapping out of his fixation with the absence of birds. “I hear seagulls. We need to finish the work. I hear sea gulls. Chromest– chromeste–”

A blanket of lights.


That’s it. Will publish the rest later! Thanks so much for reading! Have a top day.

– Ethan

 
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