amphibi.us

Piece also posted (as ‘Zee‘) by 365tomorrows.com here.

The Daughter looked sullenly around the council, at the hopeful eyes of politicians, bureaucrats, magistrates, men of wealth, and their chosen suitors, all knelt before her. She nodded to the back of the room, and they began to filter out slowly, risking glances over their shoulders at the four boys prone before Her in total reverence.

“And close the door.” Her eyes scrunched up in irritation as she heard the door latch.

Her name was Zee. The very Last.

When the men had left the boys with her, She returned to her seat, floating feet above the prostrate supplicants with their eyes on the floor. Beads of anticipating sweat had begun to form on their perfectly manicured brows. The boys were beautiful. She knew they had the most aesthetically pleasing features, healthiest immune systems, strongest physiques, and highest IQ’s that the last batch of humanity could offer.

“Stand.” She had never once said the word, ‘please.’ When the boys rose to their feet, She imagined having them for a lifetime of servitude. Even so, She knew – even if She produced a good amount of offspring – and God willing, that they were healthy, it was next to impossible that one would be a Female before Zee reached menopause, and unable to try further.

“And why are you here?”

The boys looked nervously at one another and continued staring at the floor just below Her feet. She enjoyed this. Leaning forward, She raised the cutest boy’s chin with a long fingernail. He gulped deeply and shook when their eyes made contact. Males always swooned over the Last.

“Making Me repeat Myself is never a good idea.” Her words dripped with disdain, but  She held his gaze as he blinked rapidly and framed his answer. The silence broke with his inevitable reply, the one She expected. That same boring answer.

“Because, Daughter.. -” He scrambled for his thoughts and barely collected them in time. “Because you are to be humanity’s new Mother. You are the Last and our only hope as a species. The three of us have been selected,” he glanced to each side at the prone boys beside him, “to try to give you… Give everyone another Daughter.”

Zee sighed, traced Her fingernail back off his strong chin and stood, whirling Her robes as She kicked her chair across the room. Watching it float gracefully towards one of the long windows overlooking the city, She turned back to them. She commanded the boys to stand as the window shattered, glass sprinkling the city below.

“And why – why on Terra would I want that?” They looked quizzical, they always did. The males never understood how this could be anything but all She wanted. They kept quiet, but kept their dumbfounded looks on like masks. Finally, Zee continued.

“Why would I want to do that?” Her harsh exterior was visibly fading, replaced with sorrow, a dull resentment for the years leading up to this, knowing Her fate from the moment She was old enough to listen to her Mother – and her servants. One of the boys cleared his throat, and the Last turned to look at him. His eyes met Hers again and for once, a male seemed to understand Her pain.

“Miss Zee. Your duty is that of a Mother. Like Terra itself, it sacrifices its all for its children. To allow them to grow, continue their cycle. If mankind were to die out…” He trailed off and once again trained his eyes on the floor. A tear dotted the floor silently.

“If humankind were to die out,” She continued for him, “then Terra would be able to continue her cycle.” And with that, the Last stepped through the broken window, and slid silently downwards toward the city proper.

© Shannon Peil, 2009

[others]

I stole quick glances at you
before we ever spoke
and then each time you would look away
I would steal another

And I’ll never give them back.

© Shannon Peil, 2009

[others]

The lake bubbled over yesterday. The livestock dropped dead within hours. Water poured over the sandy banks and soaked into the pasture, killing the grass, wilting the trees. Our dogs had run away shortly after our last supper as a family. The horses followed suit in the dead of night. We awoke to find that everything we had ever had was rotten, fetid, and bare of life. Even the house seemed to have sunk into its foundation slightly, the roof and walls a dead shade.

The air that morning stunk of soiled vegetables, the crops seemingly decayed from the inside out as we slept. Eliza refused to come out from her room, and drew her windows closed tightly – as if to keep the contamination out. Mother and father were praying.

I slowly walked around the drying lake, watching remnants of plant life float to the surface on the strange bubbles. The water reeked of sulfur. Silence had descended upon the valley heavily, like a blanket of pure stillness. It felt like death. A dank miasma wafted outwards from the shrinking lake, the ground shuddering.

I backed away quickly, towards the house – felt the ground tremble and begin to give way. My parents burst through the door, knocking me to the ground. Father had Eliza tucked under his arm, eyes wide with panic. We froze and watched the lake bed give out, succumbing to an unknown force deeply set in the earth. Then it dropped, a fissure rapidly replacing it. The soil began to fracture, then – quickly splitting in a multitude of directions as the breach widened and rushed towards us. I caught my breath and knelt, paralyzed on the dirt – cold seeping in through my pant legs before I forced myself to stand.

Together we scrambled backwards, around the side of the house, its foundation sinking, forcing the support beams to groan and splinter forward. We raced across the valley, fleeing home as fast as our legs could take us. In the distance, birds shook out of the trees and abandoned the forest. The still, dead air had been replaced now with the thundering sound of earth falling into itself, of trees cracking and rock bed shattering, closer and closer. When my mother fell, I froze my gaze on the horizon. When my father stopped to pick her up, I continued on the road, lungs burning. When I heard Eliza’s screams succumb to an impossibly deep chasm, I did not look back. I am not proud.

I reached town just before nightfall. Just in time to watch the sun get blocked out by an impossibility. It had been born.

© Shannon Peil, 2009; Ashent

[Pieces also by this Author]

I wish I could drift to sleep, it’s all I’d like to do
I stay awake because when I drift off, I find you in here too
Smell of perfume, cigarettes, sweat, and your favorite shampoo
It all sits with me, and makes sure I’ll never forget you.

You just look so gorgeous inside my head
So sweet and nice, obviously a creation of my own instead
Because this vision of you is simply untrue,
How I feel about this girl – well, she definitely isn’t you.

© Shannon Peil, 2009

[others]

Lightning hits the streets and illuminates
Begins to relate – A changing mind state
Evolving fate – Predetermined
Because nothing left is uncertain
I’ve given up on fear, and tripping on shit
I can’t do anything about – but throw a fit
And curse and spit – Just because I’m scared
Looking everywhere
For what I’ve thrown away
Leading up to today.

There was just no way to stay the same
After bottling up and holding pain
It all remains – Just in under the surface
I’m not here to service – Your needs
And believe this, you will see that I’ve been freed
Even as my reflection stares deeply into me
It relieves the turmoil when I’m in too deep.

I’ve fallen asleep but awake with a start
Just as the streets go dark
And the shadows around appear to abound
Stretching and coiling me up
This is rough, not powerful enough
To escape – while everything inflates
Reinstates and baits my fate
Into recoiling and boiling, unfoiling
It unfolds and everything goes cold
Darkness falls and one can’t recall
How it was before
And what’s held in store
Just like the day before
No way to restore whatever was in the core.

© Shannon Peil, 2009

[others]