Haly's Word Barf

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

I've kinda been procrastinating this and I don't even know why but I think it's about time, since every three days I have something I wanna post. So I guess here we go

This is some random thing that I edited off a piece of paper I found in a bin in my closet. Whoever this character is, I like them. 

Spoiler

PM me and ask for Piece 1. 

The lofty language was really fun with this one. I love word blurbs like this where you can really get a sense for a style of dialogue and run with it. The subtle differences are so fun--- word choice, for one. I'll shut up now xD 

Edited November 21, 2024 by The Halcyon Girl

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

Well they your character now!!

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, The Wandering Wizard said:

Well they your character now!!

I KNOW AND IT'S JUST SO EXCITING LIKE I JUST DISCOVERED SOMETHING AMAZING. 

[Ookla she/her]

Glowing gummy worms, eh? Interesting juxtaposition with the character's educated word-flavor. I like it!

[CuratorOTL IG]

This sounds something like a Stormlight epigraph and I freaking love it.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

Wow, it's been a while since I posted on here. 

Here's a ramble thing that I wrote. 

Spoiler

PM me and ask for Piece 2. 

I could revise this (I wrote it a while ago) but I won't. 

Edited November 21, 2024 by The Halcyon Girl

[InfiniteInsanity she/her]

On 10/29/2024 at 4:53 PM, The Halcyon Girl said:

Wow, it's been a while since I posted on here. 

Here's a ramble thing that I wrote. 

  Reveal hidden contents

I have great appreciation for the sky. 

I never really thought about it, but I guess that’s what makes the sky… the sky. Nobody ever thinks about it. Oh, they see it and know what it is, but they don’t think “oh, look at the gases in our atmosphere pleasantly providing the sensation that our world is stationary and slow-moving, when the frightening reality is that we’re hurtling along on a big stone chunk in the middle of empty space”. 

I mean, there’s a time and place for thoughts like that. People go stargazing to be reminded of just how small they are. For the record, though, I don’t think walking along the street on the way to a workplace that sucks while your stomach’s growling and you’re half asleep on your feet is a good time to be reminded of your relative insignificance. Honestly, I’d probably just start crying. 

My friend disagrees. He says that too many people forget that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Once, he spent three hours of his life lecturing me on this while I whupped his behind at Mariokart. He said that yes, we’re small and one person might not make a difference in the universe, but anyone can make a difference to the people around them. He said that the cosmos is where our planet dances as a whole. Our cosmos, he said, is made up of our fellow beings.

I told him he was crazy. 

It was easy for him to say that. He was the smart one, and everyone knew it. No matter what they said about him, they all knew that he would go on to be great. He would change the world as we knew it. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t worry too much about what the stars think. 

I could revise this (I wrote it a while ago) but I won't. 

I really like that.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

On 10/29/2024 at 4:53 PM, The Halcyon Girl said:

Wow, it's been a while since I posted on here. 

Here's a ramble thing that I wrote. 

  Hide contents

I have great appreciation for the sky. 

I never really thought about it, but I guess that’s what makes the sky… the sky. Nobody ever thinks about it. Oh, they see it and know what it is, but they don’t think “oh, look at the gases in our atmosphere pleasantly providing the sensation that our world is stationary and slow-moving, when the frightening reality is that we’re hurtling along on a big stone chunk in the middle of empty space”. 

I mean, there’s a time and place for thoughts like that. People go stargazing to be reminded of just how small they are. For the record, though, I don’t think walking along the street on the way to a workplace that sucks while your stomach’s growling and you’re half asleep on your feet is a good time to be reminded of your relative insignificance. Honestly, I’d probably just start crying. 

My friend disagrees. He says that too many people forget that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Once, he spent three hours of his life lecturing me on this while I whupped his behind at Mariokart. He said that yes, we’re small and one person might not make a difference in the universe, but anyone can make a difference to the people around them. He said that the cosmos is where our planet dances as a whole. Our cosmos, he said, is made up of our fellow beings.

I told him he was crazy. 

It was easy for him to say that. He was the smart one, and everyone knew it. No matter what they said about him, they all knew that he would go on to be great. He would change the world as we knew it. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t worry too much about what the stars think. 

I could revise this (I wrote it a while ago) but I won't. 

I also really like it, your writing style is beautiful and you tell both the large and the small stories <33

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

On 10/29/2024 at 3:53 PM, The Halcyon Girl said:

Wow, it's been a while since I posted on here. 

Here's a ramble thing that I wrote. 

  Hide contents

I have great appreciation for the sky. 

I never really thought about it, but I guess that’s what makes the sky… the sky. Nobody ever thinks about it. Oh, they see it and know what it is, but they don’t think “oh, look at the gases in our atmosphere pleasantly providing the sensation that our world is stationary and slow-moving, when the frightening reality is that we’re hurtling along on a big stone chunk in the middle of empty space”. 

I mean, there’s a time and place for thoughts like that. People go stargazing to be reminded of just how small they are. For the record, though, I don’t think walking along the street on the way to a workplace that sucks while your stomach’s growling and you’re half asleep on your feet is a good time to be reminded of your relative insignificance. Honestly, I’d probably just start crying. 

My friend disagrees. He says that too many people forget that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Once, he spent three hours of his life lecturing me on this while I whupped his behind at Mariokart. He said that yes, we’re small and one person might not make a difference in the universe, but anyone can make a difference to the people around them. He said that the cosmos is where our planet dances as a whole. Our cosmos, he said, is made up of our fellow beings.

I told him he was crazy. 

It was easy for him to say that. He was the smart one, and everyone knew it. No matter what they said about him, they all knew that he would go on to be great. He would change the world as we knew it. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t worry too much about what the stars think. 

I could revise this (I wrote it a while ago) but I won't. 

That's . . . strangely beautiful.

Good one.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

On 11/1/2024 at 3:26 PM, Through The Living Glass said:

That's . . . strangely beautiful.

Good one.

Thanks. That’s what I was going for. 

Speaking of this work, I’ve got another one with these same characters. It’s less spacey and includes some backstory. I wrote this ages ago as well so be nice 

Spoiler

PM me and ask for Piece 3. 

It’s unfinished but

Edited November 21, 2024 by The Halcyon Girl

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

11 minutes ago, The Halcyon Girl said:

Thanks. That’s what I was going for. 

Speaking of this work, I’ve got another one with these same characters. It’s less spacey and includes some backstory. I wrote this ages ago as well so be nice 

  Hide contents

I closed the door. 

“They’re fighting again,” Hari, my little sister, told me. She sat on her bed, swinging her legs, not really doing anything— just waiting for me. 

“I can tell.” I flopped heavily onto my bed and left my bag on the floor. “Maybe I’m the lucky one here.” 

“Probably,” Hari agreed. “It’s enough to make me almost wish I could come to work with you.” 

“Ha. I don’t think so.” 

“I’ll trade places with you.” 

I shrugged and we both fell silent. 

The ceiling of our room was unique— the only popcorn ceiling in the house. My sister complained about how unfinished it looked, and my dad hated changing lightbulbs because of all the little spikes in the paint, but I secretly liked it. The ceiling had weapons, and it hovered above us like a protective swarm of wasps. 

But what are wasps in the face of fate? Nothing— less than nothing. They’re merely bugs, quickly crushed between colliding planets. 

“He called you today,” Hari informed me. “Your friend. I told him you were at work. He left his number.” 

“Already? I just gave him our number this afternoon.” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, he called. Go call him back or he’ll be mad at me.” 

I didn’t really feel like moving, but he was my best friend, so I sighed and got up. 

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey. How was work?” 

“Nothing special. What’s up?” 

“Not much. So you guys finally got a phone? What triggered that?”

“I don’t know.” I plucked at the phone cord. “It is a landline.”

“Better than nothing.” 

“Yeah. How’s your cousin?” 

I heard him sigh through the phone. “She lost her job. Some confidentiality breach thing or whatever.” 

“Ouch. Well, at least she had one for a week.” 

“Nine days,” he corrected. “She worked nine days, four hours a day. Thirty-six hours at fourteen dollars an hour equals five hundred and four dollars times eight percent tax equals forty dollars and thirty-two cents. So she earned five hundred and four dollars but only got four hundred and sixty-three dollars and sixty-eight cents of it.”

“You cheated,” I accused. “You had a calculator.” 

“Guilty.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “Still, that was impressive, right?” 

“Sure, buddy.” 

I’d known him as far back as  I could remember— or, at least, he’d always been there. First day of first grade, he was there, sitting in the back of the classroom, focused with a quiet, mature intensity on something completely unrelated to addition. I still don’t know what he was doing, and I probably never will. I didn’t really notice his existence until fifth grade, and I didn’t care until seventh. Fifth grade was the year everyone realized just how smart he was, and not in an ‘oh-look-it’s-a-human-computer’ way. He was smart in more of a ‘where-did-he-come-from’ way. He wasn’t like the rest of us. He didn’t waste time on petty thoughts. He did his schoolwork and immediately went back to reading Cliff’s notes on books by physics people and renowned scientists. The world worked a certain way, and he wanted to know how. 

Around seventh grade, he shifted from natural laws to the laws of human nature. That was also the year I first talked to him, right after that fight in the schoolyard. 

I remember it vividly— he’s sitting at a bench, already finished eating and already finished with his schoolwork, taking in every movement he can with those unsettlingly calm eyes when one of the basketball players sits down next to him. 

And then crack. Everyone spares a glance for the victim, but then they stop and stare. It’s the basketball player who’s on the ground. He’s standing above him, one hand clenched into a fist, features perfectly composed. And then, so everyone can hear him— “Sometimes the smart ones are the ones you should watch out for.” 

The teacher runs over, but what’s done is done. He’s suspended for a week. 

Later we would learn that the basketball player had threatened him, demanding to copy his homework. He called him a nerd, I heard. 

He and I live in the same direction, but the day he comes back to school is the first time I keep pace with his long strides. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” I tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because… because. You got suspended for it.”

“It’s worth it.” He slowed, then met my curious gaze. “He’s not going to mess with me again. Nobody who saw that ever will.”

I don’t know what to say to that. 

“Look at it this way,” he tells me. “I’m a nerd. Right? Well, a nerd is vulnerable by tradition. It’s not that I like hurting people. I don’t. But it was a worthwhile trade this time— I won’t ever have to put up with him again or hurt anybody, and all it took was one bloody nose.”

All it took was one bloody nose. 

That stayed with me for a long time. I’d shudder every time I’d think of it. I’m glad he did that— Greg deserved it. The way he talked, though… like his words alone could shift the earth from its orbit, disrupt the natural order of everything. 

He’s a good friend, though. He’s a very good friend. He’s gotten less quiet over the years, and if everything he says is the answer to a calculus problem of human nature, he doesn’t show it. 

 

It’s unfinished but

That's still really good!

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Better than I could do lol

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that first part got me though

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Through the Living Shadow he/him]

4 hours ago, The Halcyon Girl said:

Thanks. That’s what I was going for. 

Speaking of this work, I’ve got another one with these same characters. It’s less spacey and includes some backstory. I wrote this ages ago as well so be nice 

  Reveal hidden contents

I closed the door. 

“They’re fighting again,” Hari, my little sister, told me. She sat on her bed, swinging her legs, not really doing anything— just waiting for me. 

“I can tell.” I flopped heavily onto my bed and left my bag on the floor. “Maybe I’m the lucky one here.” 

“Probably,” Hari agreed. “It’s enough to make me almost wish I could come to work with you.” 

“Ha. I don’t think so.” 

“I’ll trade places with you.” 

I shrugged and we both fell silent. 

The ceiling of our room was unique— the only popcorn ceiling in the house. My sister complained about how unfinished it looked, and my dad hated changing lightbulbs because of all the little spikes in the paint, but I secretly liked it. The ceiling had weapons, and it hovered above us like a protective swarm of wasps. 

But what are wasps in the face of fate? Nothing— less than nothing. They’re merely bugs, quickly crushed between colliding planets. 

“He called you today,” Hari informed me. “Your friend. I told him you were at work. He left his number.” 

“Already? I just gave him our number this afternoon.” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, he called. Go call him back or he’ll be mad at me.” 

I didn’t really feel like moving, but he was my best friend, so I sighed and got up. 

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey. How was work?” 

“Nothing special. What’s up?” 

“Not much. So you guys finally got a phone? What triggered that?”

“I don’t know.” I plucked at the phone cord. “It is a landline.”

“Better than nothing.” 

“Yeah. How’s your cousin?” 

I heard him sigh through the phone. “She lost her job. Some confidentiality breach thing or whatever.” 

“Ouch. Well, at least she had one for a week.” 

“Nine days,” he corrected. “She worked nine days, four hours a day. Thirty-six hours at fourteen dollars an hour equals five hundred and four dollars times eight percent tax equals forty dollars and thirty-two cents. So she earned five hundred and four dollars but only got four hundred and sixty-three dollars and sixty-eight cents of it.”

“You cheated,” I accused. “You had a calculator.” 

“Guilty.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “Still, that was impressive, right?” 

“Sure, buddy.” 

I’d known him as far back as  I could remember— or, at least, he’d always been there. First day of first grade, he was there, sitting in the back of the classroom, focused with a quiet, mature intensity on something completely unrelated to addition. I still don’t know what he was doing, and I probably never will. I didn’t really notice his existence until fifth grade, and I didn’t care until seventh. Fifth grade was the year everyone realized just how smart he was, and not in an ‘oh-look-it’s-a-human-computer’ way. He was smart in more of a ‘where-did-he-come-from’ way. He wasn’t like the rest of us. He didn’t waste time on petty thoughts. He did his schoolwork and immediately went back to reading Cliff’s notes on books by physics people and renowned scientists. The world worked a certain way, and he wanted to know how. 

Around seventh grade, he shifted from natural laws to the laws of human nature. That was also the year I first talked to him, right after that fight in the schoolyard. 

I remember it vividly— he’s sitting at a bench, already finished eating and already finished with his schoolwork, taking in every movement he can with those unsettlingly calm eyes when one of the basketball players sits down next to him. 

And then crack. Everyone spares a glance for the victim, but then they stop and stare. It’s the basketball player who’s on the ground. He’s standing above him, one hand clenched into a fist, features perfectly composed. And then, so everyone can hear him— “Sometimes the smart ones are the ones you should watch out for.” 

The teacher runs over, but what’s done is done. He’s suspended for a week. 

Later we would learn that the basketball player had threatened him, demanding to copy his homework. He called him a nerd, I heard. 

He and I live in the same direction, but the day he comes back to school is the first time I keep pace with his long strides. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” I tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because… because. You got suspended for it.”

“It’s worth it.” He slowed, then met my curious gaze. “He’s not going to mess with me again. Nobody who saw that ever will.”

I don’t know what to say to that. 

“Look at it this way,” he tells me. “I’m a nerd. Right? Well, a nerd is vulnerable by tradition. It’s not that I like hurting people. I don’t. But it was a worthwhile trade this time— I won’t ever have to put up with him again or hurt anybody, and all it took was one bloody nose.”

All it took was one bloody nose. 

That stayed with me for a long time. I’d shudder every time I’d think of it. I’m glad he did that— Greg deserved it. The way he talked, though… like his words alone could shift the earth from its orbit, disrupt the natural order of everything. 

He’s a good friend, though. He’s a very good friend. He’s gotten less quiet over the years, and if everything he says is the answer to a calculus problem of human nature, he doesn’t show it. 

 

It’s unfinished but

Ψοωοωοωοωοωοω

ΝεΓΔ. Ψηατ ωουιΔ Γυε δαγ?
 

Να ιΜ γοκίη’. Ι ιίκε ιτ!

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

This is the short story I wrote in three hours today because I didn’t do it for the whole week it was assigned. 

…

Be nice. 

Spoiler

PM me and ask for Piece 4. 

There aren’t any italics in this one, so you’ll have to pretend because I do NOT feel like going back and adding italics. 

Edited November 21, 2024 by The Halcyon Girl

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

49 minutes ago, The Halcyon Girl said:

This is the short story I wrote in three hours today because I didn’t do it for the whole week it was assigned. 

…

Be nice. 

  Reveal hidden contents

So Much Water

1637 words

 

I wish I didn’t have to disappear. The idea of being forgotten always scared me, and the idea that my whole civilization will soon be nonexistent is straight out of a nightmare. 

I remember the day, two weeks ago, when we discovered that we were doomed; the day scientists and researchers discovered that our beautiful Alentide— our city, our whole world— would be gone within a month. 

Shops closed. People holed up in their homes, holding loved ones close as they did the best they could to internalize their fate. 

Every single person had their regrets. I should have followed my passions. I should have spent more time with my family. I should have, I should have, I should have. We should have done something, too. We, as a society, could have researched backup plans. We could have tested underwater living sooner, found a way to waterproof a whole city, or create some kind of floating building— or a platform, at the very least. We’ve always known about the chamber underneath us, full of lighter-than-air gases that kept our whole island afloat for hundreds of years. 

And now we are sinking. 

Us Alentish aren’t ones to go without a trace, though. This is exactly the sort of situation from which we draw our strength. Shops reopened, families took to the streets again, and schools returned to teaching. Over it all hung the quiet understanding that all of this would soon be nothing but a ghost, a figment. Nothing would be spared or left behind. All of it would be ruined. Somehow, it brought strangers together. Every glance or gaze lingered a couple seconds longer with a flash of empathy. 

When I found out, I locked myself in my room and thought for hours. There had to be something I could do. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be forgotten by the universe. 

Gathering my thoughts, I began going through them one by one, picking out any piece of emotion or beauty I could find. 

Then I started my star charts. 

Not the normal kind— the accurate kind. The kind plotted on black papyrus with colorful, glittering stories gleaming up from every page. 

I worked nonstop for days, neglecting everything else, until I finished the most beautiful book of star charts I’d ever plotted.

Now, as the waves lap t the bottom door of my apartment building, I stare at the cover. The butterflies in my stomach won’t leave me alone.

“I won’t go quietly,” I whisper to the empty room. “I won’t be forgotten.” Those words give me just enough resolve to stand, clutch the thick volume to my chest, and make my way downstairs to speak with my mother.

My mother is in charge of the Alentide Project— in simple terms, our remnants. 

Our legacy. 

With a renewed understanding of just how long their funds had to last, scientists created a very expensive capsule the size of a very small room that should, hypothetically, keep water out. Competition for space inside it is fierce. Not space for oneself, of course— space for the greatest works of Alentide. It was made to contain as many mediums as possible, including films, sculptures, written history… 

Star charts. 

I step out into the living area, but upon seeing my mother speaking with an official-looking man, it’s back into the hallway for me. She’s told me many times not to interrupt her job. 

But this is important. I know the power of my charts, and this one especially. What if she agrees? Maybe… just maybe……

With a deep breath, I walk back into the living room. “Mother? It’s important.”

She turns and gives me the look that makes me feel like a little baby turtle without a shell. “Not now, Eliza.”

Two weeks left and still she looks at me that way. 

“Sorry,” I stammer. I should have known better than to try and interrupt her. I should have just waited in the first place. 

“Hold on,” the man says before I can retreat. “It’s not urgent. What’s up?” 

I squeeze the book with my arms. “I… I just… wanted to show Mother my star chart. It’s not important.” 

His eyes soften. “Everything’s important,” he said quietly. “Now that there’s so little time.” 

Mother looks away, shame flashing across her eyes. 

“May I see?” he asks. 

This is what I wanted. Maybe he’ll like it so much he’ll tell my mother it should be in the Alentide Project. 

But what if he doesn’t? What if it’s not as good as I think it is?

What if I really don’t deserve to be remembered? 

I shake my head and look down at the floor. “It’s not important,” I whisper. 

He smiles gently. “That’s all right. I’m sure your mother would be glad to see it once I’m gone.” 

I retreat to the kitchen and set my star chart aside on the counter so I can contemplate my end. Drowning is always possible— one of the highest causes of death in Alentide, which makes sense. It seems awful, based on the few times I’ve gotten water in my lungs. Like both burning and suffocating at once. 

It’ll be fairly quick, at least after two minutes when I black out. And then… I’ll be gone. Dead. Wiped from the world forever, along with everything I’ve ever thought, said, done, or created. 

I can’t think about this anymore. It’s making me sick, so I start cooking dinner. Father will be home in an hour, since he’s started coming home early to spend more time with us. I know he’ll appreciate some lasagna. 

Mother joins me in the kitchen after a little while. “Where’s that chart you wanted to show me?”

“It’s over there. You don’t have to read it. I don’t care.” 

What was I thinking, wanting her to read it earlier? Either she’ll say nothing and I’ll know it wasn’t as good as I thought, or she’ll tell me how wonderful it was and how far I’d go, if only things were different…

I can’t watch her read it. My pulse rises when she merely goes to pick it up— I won’t survive seeing her out of the corner of my eye whenever I pass through this room. To avoid that, I clomp upstairs to my room to reread one of my favorite novels. 

—

Mother nudges my door open. She’s holding the black stack of papyrus. “Eliza? Eliza, this is incredible.” 

I smile, feeling warmth spread through my heart, and set my book aside. “Thanks.” 

“Good enough for the project.” 

Those words stop my blood cold in my veins. I squeak, “G- good enough for… for the project? The project?” 

“The Alentide Project. Yes.” She grins, then sits down on my bed next to me. “If you want it out there, that is.” 

Good enough for the project? I can’t quite get those words through my head. She thought my star chart should be part of the project? Out of hundreds of thousands of Alentish star charts? 

Somehow that doesn’t quite sit right. No way does she believe that. She knows that’s what I want— but it’s not fair of her to put her own daughter’s chart in place of somebody else’s. 

If I put my chart in, then somebody else will be forgotten. 

I swallow the lump in my throat, then take the bundle of papers from my mother. “No,” I murmur. “I don’t want anyone else to see it.” 

My mother hugs me and whispers in my ear. “That’s okay, Eliza. You don’t have to.” 

I squeeze her back tightly. “Thank you.” 

She leaves me alone with my star chart. 

—

We’re apartmentbound now. All of Alentide will be underwater by the end of today. I can see the water outside my window— many of my downstairs neighbors are dead already, peacefully taken by their fate. 

A beautiful black leatherbound book sits on my steel desk, sparkly gems set into the center. I got it finished for almost nothing, since the leatherworkers and jewelers took pity on me. The water laps my toes. I don’t want it to take the book, but what can I do? 

I splash out of my room to the kitchen. My mother stands there with my father. His arms are around her and her head rests on his shoulder while they sway back and forth to the music of the gramophone in the corner. They don’t move when they see me— if they see me. My father’s eyes are glazed with memory, and my mother’s are closed, leaking tears onto her cheeks. 

I retrieve a jar of quick-drying rubber cement and hurry back to my room. The water’s up to my ankles now. I coat the inside of the drawer in my desk with the cement, then wrap the book in plastic, then blankets, and shove it into the drawer. I seal it with globs and globs of the cement. 

Then I sit down on my chair and I wait. 

—

Upstate New York, 2029

The TV anchor performs for an empty room from a fuzzy TV set, the kind that’s supposedly outdated by now. Her coldly immaculate hair and suit belie the interest sparkling in her eyes. 

…discovery of the century. The ruins most notably contain a leatherbound book written on what appears to be black papyrus, as well as a large iron capsule. The capsule has unfortunately rusted through, ruining everything inside it, but the book, which was wrapped up and placed in a steel desk, was found in perfect condition. These finds leave many questions to our archaeologists. Is it possible that these people knew that this cataclysmic, extinction-level event was coming? Where did the book and capsule come from? Regardless of the answers, this is a find the world will never forget. 

There aren’t any italics in this one, so you’ll have to pretend because I do NOT feel like going back and adding italics. 

I’M SO INTRIGUED 

THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK

YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE THIS GOOD AT WRITING.

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

3 hours ago, The Halcyon Girl said:

This is the short story I wrote in three hours today because I didn’t do it for the whole week it was assigned. 

…

Be nice. 

  Hide contents

So Much Water

1637 words

 

I wish I didn’t have to disappear. The idea of being forgotten always scared me, and the idea that my whole civilization will soon be nonexistent is straight out of a nightmare. 

I remember the day, two weeks ago, when we discovered that we were doomed; the day scientists and researchers discovered that our beautiful Alentide— our city, our whole world— would be gone within a month. 

Shops closed. People holed up in their homes, holding loved ones close as they did the best they could to internalize their fate. 

Every single person had their regrets. I should have followed my passions. I should have spent more time with my family. I should have, I should have, I should have. We should have done something, too. We, as a society, could have researched backup plans. We could have tested underwater living sooner, found a way to waterproof a whole city, or create some kind of floating building— or a platform, at the very least. We’ve always known about the chamber underneath us, full of lighter-than-air gases that kept our whole island afloat for hundreds of years. 

And now we are sinking. 

Us Alentish aren’t ones to go without a trace, though. This is exactly the sort of situation from which we draw our strength. Shops reopened, families took to the streets again, and schools returned to teaching. Over it all hung the quiet understanding that all of this would soon be nothing but a ghost, a figment. Nothing would be spared or left behind. All of it would be ruined. Somehow, it brought strangers together. Every glance or gaze lingered a couple seconds longer with a flash of empathy. 

When I found out, I locked myself in my room and thought for hours. There had to be something I could do. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be forgotten by the universe. 

Gathering my thoughts, I began going through them one by one, picking out any piece of emotion or beauty I could find. 

Then I started my star charts. 

Not the normal kind— the accurate kind. The kind plotted on black papyrus with colorful, glittering stories gleaming up from every page. 

I worked nonstop for days, neglecting everything else, until I finished the most beautiful book of star charts I’d ever plotted.

Now, as the waves lap t the bottom door of my apartment building, I stare at the cover. The butterflies in my stomach won’t leave me alone.

“I won’t go quietly,” I whisper to the empty room. “I won’t be forgotten.” Those words give me just enough resolve to stand, clutch the thick volume to my chest, and make my way downstairs to speak with my mother.

My mother is in charge of the Alentide Project— in simple terms, our remnants. 

Our legacy. 

With a renewed understanding of just how long their funds had to last, scientists created a very expensive capsule the size of a very small room that should, hypothetically, keep water out. Competition for space inside it is fierce. Not space for oneself, of course— space for the greatest works of Alentide. It was made to contain as many mediums as possible, including films, sculptures, written history… 

Star charts. 

I step out into the living area, but upon seeing my mother speaking with an official-looking man, it’s back into the hallway for me. She’s told me many times not to interrupt her job. 

But this is important. I know the power of my charts, and this one especially. What if she agrees? Maybe… just maybe……

With a deep breath, I walk back into the living room. “Mother? It’s important.”

She turns and gives me the look that makes me feel like a little baby turtle without a shell. “Not now, Eliza.”

Two weeks left and still she looks at me that way. 

“Sorry,” I stammer. I should have known better than to try and interrupt her. I should have just waited in the first place. 

“Hold on,” the man says before I can retreat. “It’s not urgent. What’s up?” 

I squeeze the book with my arms. “I… I just… wanted to show Mother my star chart. It’s not important.” 

His eyes soften. “Everything’s important,” he said quietly. “Now that there’s so little time.” 

Mother looks away, shame flashing across her eyes. 

“May I see?” he asks. 

This is what I wanted. Maybe he’ll like it so much he’ll tell my mother it should be in the Alentide Project. 

But what if he doesn’t? What if it’s not as good as I think it is?

What if I really don’t deserve to be remembered? 

I shake my head and look down at the floor. “It’s not important,” I whisper. 

He smiles gently. “That’s all right. I’m sure your mother would be glad to see it once I’m gone.” 

I retreat to the kitchen and set my star chart aside on the counter so I can contemplate my end. Drowning is always possible— one of the highest causes of death in Alentide, which makes sense. It seems awful, based on the few times I’ve gotten water in my lungs. Like both burning and suffocating at once. 

It’ll be fairly quick, at least after two minutes when I black out. And then… I’ll be gone. Dead. Wiped from the world forever, along with everything I’ve ever thought, said, done, or created. 

I can’t think about this anymore. It’s making me sick, so I start cooking dinner. Father will be home in an hour, since he’s started coming home early to spend more time with us. I know he’ll appreciate some lasagna. 

Mother joins me in the kitchen after a little while. “Where’s that chart you wanted to show me?”

“It’s over there. You don’t have to read it. I don’t care.” 

What was I thinking, wanting her to read it earlier? Either she’ll say nothing and I’ll know it wasn’t as good as I thought, or she’ll tell me how wonderful it was and how far I’d go, if only things were different…

I can’t watch her read it. My pulse rises when she merely goes to pick it up— I won’t survive seeing her out of the corner of my eye whenever I pass through this room. To avoid that, I clomp upstairs to my room to reread one of my favorite novels. 

—

Mother nudges my door open. She’s holding the black stack of papyrus. “Eliza? Eliza, this is incredible.” 

I smile, feeling warmth spread through my heart, and set my book aside. “Thanks.” 

“Good enough for the project.” 

Those words stop my blood cold in my veins. I squeak, “G- good enough for… for the project? The project?” 

“The Alentide Project. Yes.” She grins, then sits down on my bed next to me. “If you want it out there, that is.” 

Good enough for the project? I can’t quite get those words through my head. She thought my star chart should be part of the project? Out of hundreds of thousands of Alentish star charts? 

Somehow that doesn’t quite sit right. No way does she believe that. She knows that’s what I want— but it’s not fair of her to put her own daughter’s chart in place of somebody else’s. 

If I put my chart in, then somebody else will be forgotten. 

I swallow the lump in my throat, then take the bundle of papers from my mother. “No,” I murmur. “I don’t want anyone else to see it.” 

My mother hugs me and whispers in my ear. “That’s okay, Eliza. You don’t have to.” 

I squeeze her back tightly. “Thank you.” 

She leaves me alone with my star chart. 

—

We’re apartmentbound now. All of Alentide will be underwater by the end of today. I can see the water outside my window— many of my downstairs neighbors are dead already, peacefully taken by their fate. 

A beautiful black leatherbound book sits on my steel desk, sparkly gems set into the center. I got it finished for almost nothing, since the leatherworkers and jewelers took pity on me. The water laps my toes. I don’t want it to take the book, but what can I do? 

I splash out of my room to the kitchen. My mother stands there with my father. His arms are around her and her head rests on his shoulder while they sway back and forth to the music of the gramophone in the corner. They don’t move when they see me— if they see me. My father’s eyes are glazed with memory, and my mother’s are closed, leaking tears onto her cheeks. 

I retrieve a jar of quick-drying rubber cement and hurry back to my room. The water’s up to my ankles now. I coat the inside of the drawer in my desk with the cement, then wrap the book in plastic, then blankets, and shove it into the drawer. I seal it with globs and globs of the cement. 

Then I sit down on my chair and I wait. 

—

Upstate New York, 2029

The TV anchor performs for an empty room from a fuzzy TV set, the kind that’s supposedly outdated by now. Her coldly immaculate hair and suit belie the interest sparkling in her eyes. 

…discovery of the century. The ruins most notably contain a leatherbound book written on what appears to be black papyrus, as well as a large iron capsule. The capsule has unfortunately rusted through, ruining everything inside it, but the book, which was wrapped up and placed in a steel desk, was found in perfect condition. These finds leave many questions to our archaeologists. Is it possible that these people knew that this cataclysmic, extinction-level event was coming? Where did the book and capsule come from? Regardless of the answers, this is a find the world will never forget. 

There aren’t any italics in this one, so you’ll have to pretend because I do NOT feel like going back and adding italics. 

Daaaaaang.

Wish I were this good at writing. 

Edited November 13, 2024 by Through The Living Glass
GRAMMAR *sigh*

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

Ok. So. 

I wanna start another novel. 

I know what you're thinking. Haly, ANOTHER one?? You are clearly physically AND mentally INCAPABLE of focusing on a single project long enough to finish it. 

Well............ *cough*

I wanna try again, ok?? 

So how's about you all gimme a couple of your favorite tropes/character archetypes/character features/flaws/settings/themes/a quote for the book/WHATEVER and I'll pick them out and sort them, y'all can vote, and I'll use them to outline a novel? Or... uh... try to? 

Coolio? 

Coolio! 

And. Uh. Y'all better believe Imma feature some romance, or it'll never get done. Romance in my stories is my guilty pleasure. 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

1 minute ago, Halcyon The Only said:

Ok. So. 

I wanna start another novel. 

I know what you're thinking. Haly, ANOTHER one?? You are clearly physically AND mentally INCAPABLE of focusing on a single project long enough to finish it. 

Well............ *cough*

I wanna try again, ok?? 

So how's about you all gimme a couple of your favorite tropes/character archetypes/character features/flaws/settings/themes/a quote for the book/WHATEVER and I'll pick them out and sort them, y'all can vote, and I'll use them to outline a novel? Or... uh... try to? 

Coolio? 

Coolio! 

And. Uh. Y'all better believe Imma feature some romance, or it'll never get done. Romance in my stories is my guilty pleasure. 

heheheheheeeee

*ehem*

Okay so the person has trauma (obviously) but like has serious trouble talking about it to people they don't completely trust so it becomes this whole thing-

Hang on I'm getting ahead of myself

'Kay so yes on romance but if that's a given then yeah

Setting is definitely some sort of dystopian set in the past, sort of?? idk how to describe it

'Kay character is definitely tall. DEFINITELY TALL. ESPECIALLY IF THEY'RE A GIRL, GOT IT?!?!

hmm okay themes . . .

Yeah definitely dystopian. Not quite post-apocalyptic, per se, but like definitely pretty lawless and monster-hunter-y, if you catch my drift.

mmmm

Yeah!

Hehehe

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

6 minutes ago, Through The Living Glass said:

heheheheheeeee

*ehem*

Okay so the person has trauma (obviously) but like has serious trouble talking about it to people they don't completely trust so it becomes this whole thing-

Hang on I'm getting ahead of myself

'Kay so yes on romance but if that's a given then yeah

Setting is definitely some sort of dystopian set in the past, sort of?? idk how to describe it

'Kay character is definitely tall. DEFINITELY TALL. ESPECIALLY IF THEY'RE A GIRL, GOT IT?!?!

hmm okay themes . . .

Yeah definitely dystopian. Not quite post-apocalyptic, per se, but like definitely pretty lawless and monster-hunter-y, if you catch my drift.

mmmm

Yeah!

Hehehe

AUGH I LOVE THAT—

*ahem* 

Your response has been recorded on my spreadsheet :3 

I’ll probably wait a week or so to hold a vote… we’ll see how many responses we get. 

Also, @Kajsa, does any of that sound familiar? :3

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, Halcyon The Only said:

AUGH I LOVE THAT—

*ahem* 

Your response has been recorded on my spreadsheet :3 

I’ll probably wait a week or so to hold a vote… we’ll see how many responses we get. 

Hehehehehe 

Sounds good 

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

1 minute ago, Halcyon The Only said:

AUGH I LOVE THAT—

*ahem* 

Your response has been recorded on my spreadsheet :3 

I’ll probably wait a week or so to hold a vote… we’ll see how many responses we get. 

Also, @Kajsa, does any of that sound familiar? :3

hehehe very

[TwinStorm He/Him]

40 minutes ago, Halcyon The Only said:

Ok. So. 

I wanna start another novel. 

I know what you're thinking. Haly, ANOTHER one?? You are clearly physically AND mentally INCAPABLE of focusing on a single project long enough to finish it. 

Well............ *cough*

I wanna try again, ok?? 

So how's about you all gimme a couple of your favorite tropes/character archetypes/character features/flaws/settings/themes/a quote for the book/WHATEVER and I'll pick them out and sort them, y'all can vote, and I'll use them to outline a novel? Or... uh... try to? 

Coolio? 

Coolio! 

And. Uh. Y'all better believe Imma feature some romance, or it'll never get done. Romance in my stories is my guilty pleasure. 

ummmm okay

favorite tropes:

vengeance. a character seeking vengeance and rejecting it is always awesome.

demons from the past

I also love stories set during war.

also, real stakes.

OH AND HEIST STORIES

 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

6 minutes ago, Halcyon The Only said:

Also, @Kajsa, does any of that sound familiar? :3

wait what

Like I'm not surprised- I've seen that a million times dgmw, but like

What did you two do?

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

56 minutes ago, Through The Living Glass said:

wait what

Like I'm not surprised- I've seen that a million times dgmw, but like

What did you two do?

The protagonist of my last failed novel was a lot like that, and he came from a world like that. 

Glass, you and I are just on a wavelength I swear xD

58 minutes ago, Ookla the Irreplaceable said:

ummmm okay

favorite tropes:

vengeance. a character seeking vengeance and rejecting it is always awesome.

demons from the past

I also love stories set during war.

also, real stakes.

OH AND HEIST STORIES

 

Your response has been recorded  

[Through the Living Shadow he/him]

10 hours ago, Halcyon The Only said:

Ok. So. 

I wanna start another novel. 

I know what you're thinking. Haly, ANOTHER one?? You are clearly physically AND mentally INCAPABLE of focusing on a single project long enough to finish it. 

Well............ *cough*

I wanna try again, ok?? 

So how's about you all gimme a couple of your favorite tropes/character archetypes/character features/flaws/settings/themes/a quote for the book/WHATEVER and I'll pick them out and sort them, y'all can vote, and I'll use them to outline a novel? Or... uh... try to? 

Coolio? 

Coolio! 

And. Uh. Y'all better believe Imma feature some romance, or it'll never get done. Romance in my stories is my guilty pleasure. 

BREAK A MAGIC SYSTEM!

Get a magic that isn’t very powerful without doing something that was unintended by whatever/whoever created it.

OH AND A VILLAIN THAT HAS TOTAL TRUST FROM THE PEOPLE/POLITICAL INTRIGUE. 

My favorite villain. But I’m just venting bc of how fun Kintlen is to write.

Edited December 21, 2024 by SpiritOfWrath

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

13 hours ago, Halcyon The Only said:

The protagonist of my last failed novel was a lot like that, and he came from a world like that. 

Glass, you and I are just on a wavelength I swear xD

That's awesome