An Aria in Bloom

The following short story was presented at the Jersey City Writers’ monthly genre night Space Dreams and Dystopia.  Please enjoy.


White towers were bridged with walkways, like branches of chrome trees, spread throughout a metropolitan canopy. People walked to their appointments while some stayed to look out balconies at the spectacular vistas. In the distance, every dwelling resembled an Elysian palace wrought in garlands – wonderfully prismatic. Overhead the quad-rotors of nimble machines hovered, darting to-and-fro, cultivating lush gardens and blossoms that wove over the pearly framework. Nearby, lovers embraced candidly by a fountain; where they surrendered their hearts in odic kisses. Everywhere one did look, there was the marriage of natural beauty and man-made creation.

Looking out, a young girl, pressed the hood about her head nervously, and began walking away from the sight. She passed other balconies and street-sized corridors until she reached two large double doors beneath an archway, where sculpted creatures of ancient myth peered curiously down at their visitor. She hesitated and turned to make sure she wasn’t followed by looking warily over her shoulder.

When she finally entered, the room illuminated with ambient light revealing an immense amphitheater. Letting her hood down, her short auburn curls bounced cheerfully in her descent. Arriving at the stage, she looked around her and felt the immensity of her surroundings unnerving. Yet resolute, she raised her arms, as the bangle about her wrist began to radiate, projecting an ethereal instrument into her hands.

For a time, she tested the musical notes of her glowing instrument, attempting to strum a soft melody. She fumbled over a note or two, but eventually the music began to flow uninterrupted as the elegance of every movement, from her gliding fingertips to the sway of her step, aided the orchestrated symphony.

Then something in the corner of her eye startled her. She barely caught herself from a fall, as the melody spiraled into garble of harsh sound. Holding her breath, her eyes nervously looked toward the seats, where a small robotic craft was gliding toward her.

She let out a sigh of relief when the hovering craft had turned toward a nearby statue instead, and watched on, as it began extending its arm and tending to the cupped hands of a silent deity.

Within moments, a seedling began to sprout, and the young girl smiled back at her welcome audience; it humbly stemmed from within that watchful goddess’s palms, weaving about her stone coronet, and, with a verdant bud, it turned to greet her as it blossomed into a lone cerulean rose.


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