Day 8 Writing Short Stories

Mine

The thousand planet. The dark, pitted mining channels swirl underneath you, with all the lost souls trapped in there. You are their goddess. Their protector. You were chosen for the role when you were just a child. A little girl without dreams of her own—just the wind in your hair and a sparkle in your eyes. Now you are half-machine, half-human. You can feel all the wires running through your flesh. You keep the mines running. You control all the miners and the paths they take. You sent the ore up to the surface and then to other planets to be melted and used. You cannot move. You are bound to the mines. Bound to the crude obsidian altar, they have set you on with their chains and wires. You hung from there.

The flesh that used to be yours is slowly deteriorating. They paint you over and over again, scribe you with their religion, your religion. They hide your flaws when the men come in to worship you. You know that one day, another small girl will replace you. You have the memories of other goddesses before you.

Your acolyte kneels in front of you. His black tunic hangs loosely over him. They send their prayers forward, his voice grasping inside his mask. There has been a flood at shaft number 376. It has taken down miners. You can feel the connections. The chips they have installed in their brains are still active. The connections will cut soon when the flesh dies and lets its last signal out. You do nothing. Your acolyte approaches and massages your flesh. He soothes you. You know that with a single command, you could sever the connections, and the miners would make their choices again.

You let the acolyte lay his bony, long fingers on you. Move on you. Linger where they shouldn’t.

You gasp and feel your thoughts go blank. Then you are back, forgetting that a hundred souls died. The acolytes will bring new ones. There are always new ones.

You began moving the miners around to secure the flooded area and make them work around it. More ore shoots up.

—

I wasn’t quite able to write per the assignment. I left the period writing style out, not knowing how to do it or how to make it fit the science fiction genre I got. I have noticed that only when I’m listening to or reading Victorian literature, only then I might for a short period to be able to write in period style. Otherwise, I think my phonic dyslexia hinders me. I can hear dialect and style differences, but when I write, it’s like they disappear on me. So I was merciful and skipped that part. I kept the tragedy narrative and second-person point of view. Those were easy to weave in.

I liked the story. I got inspiration for it from the Warhammer 40k universe. I wanted to write something dark and Gothic in a science fiction setting. And I hope that was transmitted into my words. This could be a game. I’m not sure if I could write it as a book. But a short novel or a game would do. Hmm…

Thank you for reading! Have a day full of thoughts ❤