Saturday, June 19, 2010

Making Love, Not War

The eighth response in the One Lovely Blog Award Series is to Jörgen's "Semester" post in his blog, "Intryck, uttryck, avtryck" (Impressions & Expressions). Jörgen captioned a picture: "Plötsligt exploderade gräset i guld", roughly translated as: Suddenly the grass exploded in yellow. I ran across Jörgen's blog when I was searching for research on mörkt älvor for a writing project. I've enjoyed his amusing captions for his photos (unfortunately for you in Swedish). Go see his site and photos.

The day the alien ships came, Frank mowed the lawn under blue skies that cracked like aged porcelain as the alien cruisers, gigantic moon-sized things, shadowed the skies until the sun eclipsed. It all happened in moments, Frank watching the sky while the eerie sound of the lawnmower's engine chugged round tossing grass pollen into the air to drift in the darkening skies. A lump in Frank's throat, he turned to the house as the klaxons sounded, thankful that Penelope was home.

The door clanged shut behind Frank as he rushed through the rooms, finding Penelope in her office, placing a book on her shelf. "It is time," said Frank.

Penelope clenched her hands, the skin turning bone white, before closing her eyes as she held her breath. Opening. "Are you sure?"

"I saw the ships."

She threw herself at him, their bodies meeting as Frank found Penelope's mouth. A drawn out kiss, her skin glowed white already becoming hot to the touch. Frank smelled of sweat and grass. No time for a shower. Frantic, hungry arms stripped the clothes from each other. A nip, a kiss, a long barely felt brush of fingernails along the skin. Slowly, one step at a time they walked down the stairs to the basement.

Opening the heartroom's door for the first time since they bought the house, the circular waterbed consuming all the space in the room. Penelope laid down on the bed, her hands tracing rivulets of fire along his skin as Frank kneeled onto the bed, pulling the metal funnel from the ceiling down to hover over them.

Their hands ripping at each other, a hunger there. Penelope's skin became translucent, red blood vessels and blue veins faint as she began to glow brighter than the sun. Frank consumed by his need felt the reaction begin, his life essence leaving him, pushing into Penelope, expanding her, powering her. Spent, Frank collapsed to the bed an empty husk.

Penelope grew. She pulled the end of the metal funnel to set it against her stomach. The light rushed out of her as their spores shot out of her and into the funnel. The billions of tiny grains covered with a nanofilm shell ricocheted off the harsh metal. A whoosh as the birthing cannon shot their progeny away from the earth, into the sky where hopefully most of the seeds would escape past the alien ships to ride the solar wind to other worlds. With Penelope's last strength, she reached out a hand to clench Frank's withered skin.

1 comment:

  1. Wow. I really liked the imagery you used, the spores, pollen, grains... beautiful and sad at the same time. Well done!