For Master….thanks for the inspirational pic that birthed this one! Love, nilla
No one paid much attention to meteorites that slid through Earth’s atmosphere anymore. It happened, now and again, that some erstwhile stargazer would see one streak through the skies, and jot it down somewhere, perhaps on the NOAA website, or in a personal blog. And some lone hiker may find an interesting rock while hiking and bring it home.
In the wee hours of July 22nd, not many were out and about to see the single light flash across the sky, and fizzle out. It was too soon to go out and look for the Persieds…they didn’t stream across the sky until August 11th. That it landed with a small splash in a forgotten lake in the uplands of New England drew no special attention, except for a few curious fish.
The meteorite was quite small by then, of course, after surviving the heated descent through the blue-black skies of the third planet of Sol. It settled into the debris of the lake, not far from where the main current carried fresh water out to a lower series of lakes, and eventually, the reservoir. In the dark, cold depths of the mountain-fed lake, water began to permeate through the oddly shaped space debris; its warmth, compared to the deep chill of space, began to stir the first frissions of life from within. In the same way that a pine cone releases seeds after a forest fire, a single fertile seed within the chunk of riddled stone was awakened by the heat from the meteorites fall. It began, after eons adrift in the dry and frozen outer skies, to grow.
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Sarah pulled her overalls over her workout bra. It was hot as hell today, too hot for a tee-shirt. This was just not a normal course of events here in the hills of western Massachusetts. Usually the rolling uplands were unaffected by the heat that plagued the mid-west, and any that bubbled north from the southern states tended to hang in the Connecticut River valley. It was going to be hell to head out to the verdant corn field that needed to be harvested. Winter had been mild, the ground had warmed early, and this first-of-the-season harvest was much-anticipated in the town below. Usually Pittsfield residents had to wait until August for their first taste of “summer gold” as corn was jokingly referred to here.
She pulled her hair into a fast ponytail, then coiled the thick mass up into a hair clamp. Pulling on cotton socks and her battered sneakers, she slipped out of her room as the sun slipped up over the horizon to mark the new day.
“Hey Moma!” she leaned in and kissed her grandmothers weathered cheek. No matter how early she herself got up, her grandmother was always up before her.
“Get yourself some food, there, little girl.” It didn’t matter that Sarah was almost 30. Her Moma still called her little girl. She smiled, then served up some tender pancakes, crispy bacon strips, and a spoonful of scrambled eggs.
“Moma, you shouldn’t have done all this in this heat. You should be staying down at the senior center while we’re steaming. Go on down today and drive those boys wild with your fancy dance moves! I can drive you down, or I can send Larry back to the house to take you in. I mean it. Don’t shake your head at me, Bettina Carmichael.” She gave her Moma the “hairy eyeball”, which made them both giggle.
“I won’t be responsible if Mr. Jim Donaldson falls dead with a heart attack when I get up to boogie.”
“Nope, won’t be your fault at all.” She smiled into her coffee. Mr. Donaldson was 80 if he was a day, and had a sweet spot for her grandmother. She figured out that they’d had a blazing affair some years ago, but her grandmother was not a “keeping” kind of woman, and she’d dumped the poor man. He continued to pine for her, which amused her Moma no end.
She finished up, pointing a finger at her Moma. “Senor center. All day. If it’s hot tonight, then stay in town. Macy will put up with you, unless you find yourself some frisky thing to play with.
Her grandmother giggled, a sweet, girlish sound. Shaking her head, she grabbed her work gloves, and headed out. Her grandma was a regular slut sometimes! Gods knew, Moma had more sex than she herself was able to find time for! She headed out to the barn, and found Larry just starting up the tractor for her.
“You got fucking ESP or what?” she hollered over the rumbling roar. Larry’s head popped up, his cracked front tooth gleaming.
“Mornin’ Ma’am!”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Larry was from Texas, and 5 years in the Berkshires of Massachusetts could not take the “ma’am” from him. She hopped up on the seat, and told him to be sure to take Moma into town. Soon. She knew that the mannerly farm hand would do exactly as told, making sure her grandmother wouldn’t swelter in the heat. She wondered if Larry and Moma had…no. She wasn’t going to even think that. But she cast a glance at his retreating figure as he crossed the yard towards the house. Just..no.
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The July sun blazed down. She was pissed as hell that she’d forgotten her ball cap this morning. Drinking the last of her water, she swung down from the seat of the tractor, and headed towards the bank of Farm Pond 3. Crouching, she scooped water and dashed her heat-ruddy face with it. Damn! She could feel the burn on her nose already. Rising, she looked around. Her family land went on for acres; there was no one around. Quickly she stripped from her sweaty pants and peeled herself out of the sports bra. Shoes and sox went next, and naked, she stood for a moment, letting the hot breeze caress her sweaty skin.
Turning, she walked into the pond. In the middle there was a faint current where the stream from the higher peaks ran through. Although there was a half-dam to contain the water “just in case”, they rarely used the farm ponds these days. The overflow continued downstream to Farm Pond 2, and a bit closer to the house, Farm Pond 1. She let herself sink into the cool depths, slowly landing on the bottom. Here was a bit of muck from leaves decomposing, and the gentle, cooler tug from the current, trying to push her downstream. Miles away, her ponds slid into a series of larger ponds, which emptied into the reservoir. She stood, her head breaking the water. There was a very startled water skater in front of her nose, who scuttled away with his “rowing” legs, across the top skin of the water. In seconds he was snatched up into the sky by a hungry dragonfly.
She watched the short fight until the dragonfly was out of sight. Gods, this felt so good. She let herself sink again into the depths. She felt a fish nibbling at her belly, and pushed it away. Another bumped her calf. Fucking fish. They tickled. She rose up and walked towards shore. Her hair dripped into her face from her bun. Her nose felt better. All of her felt better. She scooped up her water bottle, and carried it back to the pond, filling it. She’d pour that over her head when she got hot again
With a sigh of regret, she dressed quickly, remounted the tractor, and putted back to the fields of corn.
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It was small, in the brackish water it now called home. It had moved upstream, resisting the current, and growing stronger. In its larval stage it was nearly transparent, aiding it in hiding from the predators hiding in the ponds and streams. If one looked closely, there was a faint shimmer in the water where its heart beat strongly. It swam around growing acquainted with every new place until it knew it, and then moved on.
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Sarah parked the tractor behind the barn. The truck was here, which meant Larry could tow out the cart with today’s harvest. She decided to take a short swim. Bowing to decency, and not wanting to unduly shock the older farm hand, she headed into the house, shucking her coveralls as she went. In her room, she grabbed a pair of shorts, and a towel, and headed back out behind the barn. Passing the tractor, she saw she’d left her cell phone and her water bottle behind. She snagged both as she passed, her stride long yet unhurried. Checking for any messages, she was pleased to find none. She left her towel and phone on the bank of the pond, and dove in. This main pond was a bit deeper, and a bit cooler. The stream ran in via an underground pipe that her father had installed before she was born. The outflow stream ran fast as well, burbling over a stone slow-down, which created a small waterfall. The sound was cheery in the early evening. The sun was hovering at the tops of the trees, and bats were starting to slip out and gobble the first of the mosquitoes. The clouds turned pink overhead, as she dove and bobbled in the refreshing pond. No hot tub for her, nosiree! Nothing beat a cool down like this after a hard day. A good day, with the corn in the upper fields gathered in, and ready for Larry to take down to town. She played a short game of “retrieve the water bottle” throwing it across the pond and swimming over to fetch it, stretching tired muscles. Finally, she opened it, pouring out the contents, then headed out. Refreshed, she was finally ready to head in and start her accounts.
She rapped on Larry’s door.
“Yes’m?”
“Corn’s in. Can you take it in and see if Moma is ready to come home, or if she’s going to spend the night? Then your clock is done, ‘kay?”
He nodded, then, picking up his hat from the peg next to the door, slapped it down, and headed out for town. No one but Larry would wear a 10-gallon hat up here in the north, when it was 90-plus degrees. She smiled to herself as she let herself into the house.
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This pond was the coolest of any it had lived in. There was much to eat, and it grew fast; faster than the lifecyles of those native to this planet. In a day it doubled in size. In three, it was even larger. By weeks end, it was nearly full grown. It was beginning to lose its translucence. The blood of it was a muddy red-brown color and was clearly visible through its nearly clear arms. It had nine thick tentacles, with a bulbous, rounded head. It’s single eye could see many spectrum’s of light. The bottom of the muddy pond was as clear as day; moonless nights were just as bright. It lay on the bottom of the pond when the bipeds were about during the yellow time of the day. And at night, it left the pond, and roamed.
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