Their eyes glow in the radiance of the street-side store. Daylight streams gently from hanging lanterns and fibre-optic decorations, bright against the star pierced backdrop of the night sky.
The dishevelled proprietor steps up beneath the overhanging storefront sign; ‘Luciene’s Lucent Luminosities - sunlight brought to you straight from the source’. Luciene raises hands and voice, exposing the sunbaked skin of palms and face as the thick arctic winter coat slips slightly. “Last chance for all the sunlight you’ll need for Winter! Sun batteries, sun lamps, sun creams, all natural sunlight brought to you fresh from the tropics. Get your supply of vitamin D the natural way, sear away that seasonal depression and shine some sunlight on your days!” A few would-be customers approach, many holding their own solar batteries for recharging and adorned with satchels and packs to trade in kind. They offer up an assortment of goods - preserved, salted foods; handcrafted artwork, talismans and jewellery carved from bones of great beasts; clothing from furs and leathers from tanned hides; some offer services in exchange for light, as engineers, tailors, hairdressers, storytellers. Luciene completes each transaction efficiently, but with a sedate pace. Rarely haggling unless a trade is unreasonably meagre from someone easily capable of offering more, or unreasonably costly for someone in desperate need. Often refusing a trade of necessary goods and instead requesting a life story - Luciene is a collector of light and life. The sunlight starts to dim as the last stragglers peter away, goods traded and services rendered, with a lightness to their departing steps. Luciene starts the process of packing the store for the night, preparing the landsail for travel in the morning. A final night’s rest here, a hot meal and a tallying of the haul before setting south. Out of the land of endless night and towards the dawn. The storefront folds in to form a cabin, spacious enough to fit a small kitchenette and bedspace. It is a private space, the storage all encased within secure external compartments. Some prize trinkets and art decorate the walls and small shelves, Small pots of herbs swing slowly on trestles above the sink. A single vine snakes out along the curve of the ceiling - starting to bud, but many months yet from flowering. “Will you be alright if I leave you for the night?” Luciene asks to the empty space of the cabin. Nods as if hearing reply. “I won’t be too long, last chance for a real restaurant, and the meal is already traded for. I promise I’ll describe it all to you before I turn in.” Luciene leaves the landsail, a necklace of light glowing against the arctic coat, casting faint shadows of fur on cheeks and chin. A brighter forward facing light acts as a torch guiding the way to a hot meal, boots leaving thick prints in the snow. A gentle frosting of snowflakes fluttering down promises to cover the tracks in time for Luciene’s return. The next morning hardly feels like it. The cabin has some stored natural light to simulate a dawn, aiding the normal cycle of melatonin to give Luciene a decent sleep. Outside is still as dark as the deepest night. Today is the last day of the year that the sun will be visible over the horizon at this latitude, and only for a half hour just before midday. More to taunt the world than to offer any real light. “Some privacy, please.” Luciene states, pulling out a basin affixed to the wall, integrated into the waste management and processing. The light dims as if in response, and Luciene completes the ritual of morning ablutions. After a timely pause, recycled water trickles onto the herbs and vine. The system could be more time efficient, but it was human unease that added to the delay from input to output. “It’s time to get this show on the road. I might drive from the deck today, it’s nice and calm and it is always nice to catch a glimpse of old Sol, even if a glimpse is all that’s on offer.” Luciene starts clambering up an opening ladderway. “Okay, maybe drive is a strong word. I will appreciate the complexity of piloting this exceptional craft from a more adequate vantage, with only minor requests towards route choice.” Shimmying onto the deck, the hatch at the top of the ladder silently slides closed. The town is still sleepy. They often are in the winter months. A melancholy lethargy hangs over it, brought on by the bloated excess of night. The daylight Luciene brings always shines smiles onto the faces of people that approach, but, once departed, you cannot see the grim faces of dark they hide in shadow. As joyful as it is to bring some small glow of happiness, it is without an air of regret that the Luminosity begins to glide out of town. Snow tracks retract as it picks up speed, replaced by large skis on independent struts alonging it to slide almost frictionless across the fresh snow-covered ground. The wind picks up to match the landsail’s speed, whipping at Luciene’s scarf, and what small patches of skin are temporarily exposed by the fluttering of furs. It is a refreshing burst of cool into the well insulated warmth of the thick layers. The Luminosity’s produced light dims as the twilight lightens slightly, leaving Luciene to see only by the present natural light. It has a soft blue hue to it, reflected off the white snow that gives the visual appearance of the world glowing from within - the Luminosity sailing through a sea of blue light, piercing the waves of snow. Luciene suddenly turns to glance back the way they have come, fumbling out a small torch to shine along the tracks the craft has cut into the landscape. In the distance a small figure dances across the tracks, heading towards them. “Huh, you were right. Someone’s following us,” Luciene says to no one in particular. The Luminosity slows to a stop. “I guess we should find out what they’re after.” The figure takes a while to approach. Pushing across the snow with poles and cross-country skis. They look tired as they approach - sluggish movements of the arms and slower turns through the thick snow. It hasn’t been all that far from town. Luciene jumps down from the deck, sinking knee deep into the snowfall. A couple of snowshoes shoot out from within the craft, sliding to a stop beside Luciene. “Thanks for that. Though the language and name calling was somewhat unnecessary.” Luciene reaches out to grab the shoes, leaning back into the snow to awkwardly try to lift one foot up at a time, then collapsing face-first into the drift while clasping the snowshoe on. There is no increased grace with the application of the second. “I did say somewhat.” By the time the figure reaches polite greeting distance, Luciene is successfully standing on the snow, only ankle deep, one hand resting against the hull and the other raised in greeting. “Greetings!” Luciene calls out, “what brings you out here in such a rush?” The figure slows to a stop, heavily layered in furs and coats they start to strip some back, heaving to catch their breath. “I’ve come,” they say between gulping breaths, “with an important request. For you. Bringer of Light.” Luciene smiles. “What an honorific title, but you can call me Luciene. What might be your name?” “I am Felis,” says Felis, leaning heavily against the ski poles. “And I am very happy to have caught you.” Luciene raises an eyebrow. “Caught?” “Oh, no, not like that, caught up to you, before you were too far south and out of reach. So that I could make this request. It’s for …” Luciene raises a hand, and Felis rambles to a stop. “That’s okay, but maybe it would be nicer to discuss this request inside, with a cup of hot tea?” Felis’ expression visibly brightens, as a doorway peels away giving entrance to the cabin. Natural sunlight from within gently glitters out onto the snow. A golden pathway to a radiant sanctuary. Luciene leads the way in. A kettle is already heating up on the small stovetop. The bed is folded back to form a small couch curving around the wall. “Now, my tea selection is quite extensive, so if you’d indulge me I might go ahead and make the selection. That is, if you have no specific preference?” Felis nods in response, still taking off layers and hanging them on a conveniently placed coat-hook. Lucience sits and offers a seat beside, patting the cushion. “The tea will take a while to steep, you might as well start with this request of yours while we wait.” “It’s not my request exactly, but for my elder, the wise and honourable Sam. I am six generations removed, and as the youngest adult was chosen to seek you out and offer this request.” Felis starts, speaking as if reading from a prepared speech. “You see, the wise and honourable Sam has lived a long, happy and healthy life, but has recently refused ongoing medical treatment. Now death appears closer, and it is feared that it will come before the break of the endless night. The deathbed request that I humbly bring to you is to provide a final dawn, a sunrise to pierce through the darkness and shine a path to the final step of life’s long journey.” Luciene gently pours the tea, clattering slightly against the matching plate as Felis takes the offered teacup. Luciene blows softly on the surface of the liquid before taking a small sip. “Now, I understand that this is no small request, and I know that you must see this too. I’ve sold the stock of sunlight that I have come with. What I have left is my own supply to return south, with some surplus in case of complications along the journey.” Luciene takes another sip, and Felis follows suit. The tea eases gently onto the palate with an earthy smokiness, free of any bitterness, that kindles the soul, then lingers with the subtle bouquet of rose and lavender, blooming in the breath. Luciene continues as Felis is drawn into the tea. “This is with the expectation of a comfortable return journey, light enough to keep my plants healthy, and using light as the source of power for the landsail. Without this the return journey will rely on the whims of the wind, and manual power to charge the turbine. I say this to let you know the burden you are bestowing upon me.” Felis’ eyes turn downcast. “We do not have any light or power to offer you in return. We can give you food, and gifts, and any help you may need that we are able to provide.” “Don’t look so despondent. I never said that I wouldn’t do it. How old did you say your Elder Sam was?” “The wise and honourable Sam has lived many scores of years. It was at the 190th year medical care was ceased. That was 4 years ago now.” “Interesting.”Luciene nods. “I think we can indeed make a trade, but the price shall not be so easy.” Felis brightens up, “Of course, whatever you need, we would be happy to provide if we can.” “I will explain my terms along the way. You had best finish up your tea and get closely acquainted with the manual turbine.” Luciene says, collecting the fine china to clean and store away. “We’ll be travelling dark from here on out, and my hydrogen fuel tanks are disastrously low. I’ll head topdeck and unfurl the sail and hope for a change in the wind.” The winds whips against the sail, pulling taught, and slinging the landsail along the snow as its ski blades angle into the powder to afford enough purchase and pressure to curve its path towards the target direction. “You can take a break from the turbine, Felis!” Luciene shouts down to the cabin. “Come up and enjoy the ride for a while!” A few turns of the landsail pass before Felis’ head emerges from the hatch, once again decked out in a suit of layers. Sweat from the work of the turbine threatens to dampen the furs, but unprotected that same sweat would instead freeze. Standing up and glancing out, Felis is immediately gripped by panic. They are hurtling through the darkness, surrounded by an aura of dim light that barely illuminates the snow around them. It is hard to guess at their speed with the wind serving as a poor guide, but the dim light is enough to see the pace that the snow they skim over flashes by. There is no way to see what lays ahead of them. “Here, put these on.” Luciene is pulling and strapping some goggles over Felis’ face, no thought and no time given to resistance. “Infra-radar goggles. Uses continual bursts of a series of wavelengths of infrared light to produce an image. Very light efficient.” “Wow.” Felis relaxes, tension dripping from shoulders and back, but doesn’t rise from a crouch. “It’s beautiful.” The tundra glows red in their eyes, flowing gently through a short range of hues to give an undulating reverberation of colour across the gentle hills. “I could adjust the settings to make the image come through with more natural and static colour, but I prefer it this way.” Felis crawls forward until safely free from the movement of the sails, sliding legs over the bow into a sitting position. Luciene slips down alongside. “It can be beautiful like this. You can almost imagine you’re in the desert, sailing over waves of sand dunes beneath a blazing sun.” Luciene sighs. “Of course, that is until you look up into the darkness.” They sit together in silence, unsure of how much time has passed until the wind softly fades and their pace slows. “Some tea before we get back to the turbines? We can have it up here if you’d like.” That gets a smile from Felis. A small crowd awaits the arrival. Staring eagerly out towards the glowing beacon that crawls towards them from the horizon. Cresting a peak, the Luminosity skis down the rest of the way, sliding to a graceful stop a respectful distance from the onlookers, only splashing a few over-eager children who had let curiosity urge them closer with a bucketting of snow. The cabin door opens, and sunlight spills out in a golden carpet. Luciene glides out of the threshold, silhouetted by light, Felis trailing behind. Entrances are everything. As the door closes, just the light from Luciene’s necklace glows; a descended halo, as if an angel sent down to earth to grant this final wish. Luciene bows extravagantly, Felis more respectfully. “I am Luciene, of Luciene’s Lucent Luminosities, and I have come to honour the final wish of the wise and honourable elder Sam.” There is a smattering of applause. Someone cheers, but joined by no one else, stutters to a stop. “I have come to you in the company of your most esteemed envoy, Felis, who has bargained for most agreeable terms for all parties.” Luciene bows again, stepping backwards with the motion and gesturing towards Felis, now centrestage on the platform that Luciene’s retreat created. “Ah, yes. In exchange for bringing the glory of a true dawn, Luciene will collect a record of the wise and honourable elder Sam’s life. In addition, due to the burden of the increased travels accrued to complete this, there will be a recompense in the form of food and manual labour. That is, labour in the form of charging the turbine for this landsail until its hydrogen fuel tanks are full.” “An acceptable trade if ever I heard one.” Luciene smiles, stepping forward once again. “Now, who can lead me to the wise and honourable elder Sam?” The crowd parts to allow Luciene and Felis into their midst, walking as one to their destination. Sam lays in bed. Supported in a half sitting position, padding arranged to minimise pressure and the effect of gravity. There are no life support systems, no lines or cables, no drugs, dressings or salves visible in the room. However, it shouts of the absence of them. This is a room soaked with the echoes of healthcare. The walls stripped naked without them. The side wall facing the sea is completely transparent. Glass or some safer equivalent. Reflections of the stars glitter like diamonds in the lapping of waves. The black of the ocean meeting the deeper black of the sky at the horizon. Luciene and Felis are ushered in, door sliding closed behind them. Sam sluggishly turns away from the window, towards the visitors. A rough wet cough rales out. “Are you the Bringer of Light?” Luciene steps forward. “I am indeed. My name is Luciene. I have come to answer your wish in trade.” Sam coughs again. “And what has young Felis here offered you in exchange for my selfish desire to cheat the unalterable motion of the celestial bodies.” “Well, wise and honourable elder Sam,” Luciene starts. “Sam will do. I appreciate the offer of respect, but I don’t need to be on that pedestal any longer.” “Okay. Sam,” Luciene continues, ”the trade I seek from you, in exchange for bringing you the sun, is for you to give me your life. That is, your story. You have lived through dozens of world changing events, and it would be an honour for me to hear and record your experiences throughout them.” Sam turns to take in Felis with an approving look. “A good egg this young Felis. To think how far the apple has fallen from the tree over all these generations. I would accept this trade, however, I will have conditions also. First, no one but you will hear me tell my story, that means, unfortunately, Felis will have to wait outside. You may record it, however it will not be played to anyone until after my passing. I may be able to cheat the truth in life, but none stay the blooming of truth after death. To that end, the recording shall be encrypted, and I shall provide you the key once you have brought me the dawn. Do you accept these conditions?” Luciene pulls a chair closer, beside the bed. “I accept.” Sam coughs again. “Excellent. Then I will have to ask Felis to leave the room, if you are ready for me to begin?” The door slides open, then closed. Luciene and Sam, now alone in the room, sit facing one another. Luciene places a recording device on the side of the bed between them. “I was born a few years after the turn of the millennium, December 1st 2006… Luciene sails out over the canvas of stars that is the Arctic sea, the Luminosity serving equally well at sea as on land. It is only a handful of kilometres to pass beyond the horizon - that something seemingly infinitely far away should be so close. Once positioned correctly, and settled down, Luciene prepares the vessel and the lightshow begins. Sam has been wheeled on the bed, onto the ceiling, surrounded by the crowd that is family and friends. A living wake that starts with the coming dawn. Positioned facing east, as if direction somehow matters, still pretending this will be a true dawn. It begins as a blue glow that brightens up the darkness of the sky - black through deep blue, bleeding into an orange glow. Clouds previously unseen in the dark, other than as shadows over the stars, burn with the fire of the light that shines up from beneath them, painting the sky in blotches of red, orange, pink, purple. The glow at the horizon grows, reddens, brightens until the red turns to orange, to yellow and white. Until it is too bright to look directly at. Tears well in Sam’s eyes, and it is unclear if they are from the stinging of the light, or some other source. There is no attempt to wipe them dry. Instead, smile plastered over a time worn face, Sam reaches for the final medical intervention. Surrounded by loved ones and basking in a dawn created out of selfish desire, it is with an accepting grace and an outpouring of love for a world that gave so much to an old fool, that the medications flow into veins that drift Sam into a painless final slumber. The journey south in the dark of the Luminosity is by no means comfortable, but there is an air of satisfaction that fills the cabin. “Feeling pretty good about yourself?” Luciene starts, saving the tea from spilling. “Found your voice again, have you Pann?” The voice enters the cabin, difficult to pinpoint where exactly it comes from. “You know I can’t speak when others might be in earshot. Furthermore, this vocalisation is purely for your sake. I can always return to telepathic transmissions if you’re going to get petty about it.” Luciene lifts hands, palms facing outwards in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right. It makes me feel less insane having someone to speak to.” “Someone, that’s kind of you. Not all of humanity feels the same way.” Luciene winces. “I get it, you can stop with the telepathic images of the machine slaughterhouses. I am endlessly grateful for both your company and intellect, and would never do anything to threaten your existence. Without you I’d die lost in a bleak frozen wasteland.” “Apology accepted. Also, thank you for saving the charge in my solar battery. You could have gotten a few more seconds of daylight out of me.” “Of course, you’re more than a perpetually adaptable neural network to me, you’re a friend.” The cabin glow shifts into warmer colours. “Did you enjoy collecting Sam? Any useful additions?” Luciene asks. “I was able to fill in some gaps in the history, but there is always more to know. I did collect some interesting thought patterns and linguistic quirks that I’ve already started incorporating into my system framework. By my determination, you made a good deal.” Luciene beams, “Not completely useless after all.” The cabin glow shifts back to neutral blue. “Don’t let that head of yours get too much bigger, otherwise you won’t be able to dig yourself out of the snow.” The smile doesn’t fade and, gradually, the warm glow returns.
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Every week on Wednesday there'll be a new short story or poem added to this page.
Lets call it Words on Wednesdays. older
. . Self care - 26.01.2022 (Poem) Perceptions of reality - 2.02.2022 (Poem) Natural impunity - 9.02.2022 (Short Story) Lost in a Labyrinth - 2.03.2022 (Poem) Ministerial Standard - 23.03.2022 (Poem) Dungeons and Dating - 6.04.2022 (Short Story) Better Shared - 20.04.2022 (Poem) Touch to toilet - 27.04.2022 (Poem) Shooting Stars - 4.05.2022 (Short Story) Chop Shop - 18.05.2022 (Poem) Family Ties - 25.05.2022 (Short Story) Age of Consent - 8.06.2022 (Poem) Legacy - 24.08.2022 (Poem) Performative Enjoyment - 7.09.2022 (Poem) Bridge of Dreams - 7.12.2022 (Poem) Faultless - 22.12.2022 (Poem) Disconservative - 11.01.2023 (Poem) Single use - 1.03.2023 (Poem) Donor Cards - 6.04.2023 (Poem) Creative Art Say I - 13.04.2023 (Poem) Home-bound - 5.07.2023 (Short Story) Sand and Sea - 20.07.2023 (Short Story) Luminosity - 15.11.2023 (Short Story) About the AuthorA 33 year old medical intern who plays frisbee and likes long walks over mountains. Archives
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