The Speaker loitered outside the Speaking Nest, floating effortlessly in the thick atmosphere. Small webbings keeping him stable, eyes constantly goggling for food or danger. He took a glance to inspect his armor. In good condition, gleaming and delightful to his big eyes. No longer a young speaker, but not old, not yet.
The Speaker did not want to go in. He could see the other clan representatives, two by two, male and female, floating in there through the sparse walls. Not walls at all, really. Just a collection of dead growth the turbulence had collected against stickups. Still, it was privacy and protection of sorts.
Clans of every breed were all there, his own and including the Monsters. The Monsters here were too young to be dangerous, but you never knew. They made him skitterish, and he could see they had the same effect on the others. He was not as Monster-condemning as some. He imagined anyone could be a Monster if hungry enough. He’d heard about clansmen
devouring their young though it was always a mistake or accident. He would never do such a thing, or had he? The memories of youth were getting so murky. He’d have to go in and commence soon before the assembly broke and ran from sheer anxiety.
Slowly he floated through the dead plants and into the Nest center. The representatives started circling him slowly. He didn’t mind that. He knew they preferred to be in motion, and it allowed him to speak to individuals as they cruised by without having to turn his large head. He hated monsters maneuvering around him, but it was safe in the Nest, wasn’t it?
He finally spoke: “We are gathered here as needed to speak of things…” He trailed off. They all knew there was only one concern they were here for…the abductions.
Clanspeople had been going missing since he could remember. Some undoubtedly had just moved on or were swept away by harsh atmospherics, but not all. Some were here in one flick, then gone. Disappeared out of thick air! Some said it was Monsters from outer space, but he didn’t agree with that. He’s been above the air into the outer reaches a few times as a youngling but never saw any Monsters.
Most every youngster had dared the high place-above-the-air to prove their courage. It
was a simple matter of gaining enough speed up and up until you broke free from the atmosphere! There was always a moment of fear and pain. You could not breathe away from the
air, and it could be very hot and so bright. Then you quickly fell back to safety and a clean breath. No Monsters but it was a monstrous place.
The Speaker was shocked back to the now by that which he had feared, Old-One-of-Scars. He was indeed covered with scars and one large eye was completely white and sightless.
Scars had broken formation and were hovering right in the Speaker’s face, demanding attention. He croaked harshly: “They got me plenty of times! I saw them up close! Bigger ‘n any clansmen ever thought of being! His one good eye swiveled jerkily to the Monsters who had stopped. Bigger’n even them kind ever get!
All the clans had stopped and were getting twitchy. Speaker would have to cut Scars off soon, but he had his rights like any in the circle. A sudden burst: “They hurt me badly, but I always get away and come back hereways. They’s comin’ fer us all! Monsters from Outer Space!”
At this, a few of the outer clansmen darted through the nest walls and vanished in the distance. The rest would have broken too if Scars had not suddenly gone silent and began the lazy circling again. It was as if he’d all at once forgotten what he was screaming about. Indeed, he had. Maybe he had been hurt badly out there or somewhere.
The rest fell into the slow circle, but the Speaker could see they were in no mind to discuss further. He’d lost his opportunity…again. Mustering what was left of his fleeting authority, “I call all to return back at the next circle. We will find answers… .” It was useless to go speak on. The representatives quickly left the nest in every direction and were gone in a blink. All except the two Monsters. They lingered, eyeing the Speaker with dark intent. The speaker had a moment of terror, but they slowly drifted out and away. Another circle over with nothing done. He was growing weary of being Speaker and angry with his inability to get anything settled. With that, he left the Nest in disgust.
Outside he began to work his way out of the open and toward shelter. His foul mood was
brightened a bit by a morsel of food floating by. He savagely bit into it, but it didn’t taste right. The speaker spit but the food would not leave his mouth. He jerked away but only discovered pain
and panic! The food was running away but couldn’t get out of his mouth! It moved with terrible force, dragging the Speaker with it. It was a fight now!
The speaker twisted and turned like he was evading a Monster. It did no good. The food was pulling him along in a way he had no power to resist. He struggled but was now moving up and up! One word broke through pain and panic as he left the air and entered outer space…abduction!
“Hey, Gramps! I got one”! Gramps turned to see his young grandson struggling with a gyrating Bluegill at the end of the boy’s fishing line. He had it out of the water but couldn’t grasp its flipflopping body. “Hold on, Timmy”, the old man calmly said as he wet his hand and deftly ran it down the boy’s line until his weathered, cupped hand encompassed the fish’s body, headfirst, depressing the spines.
With a firm but gentle grip on the struggling creature, he quickly removed the hook and held the fish out in his open palm for Timmy to inspect. “Wow, Grandpa, can I touch it”? “Sure, just wet you hand first. Don’t wanna rub off his slime. Keeps him protected against germs and things”.
Timmy marveled at the iridescent colors playing across the fish’s heaving side. “Can we keep it”? He stoked the Bluegill gently only to see it flip straight up out of Gramp’s hand and plopped back into the green waters of the pond, jinking away! Timmy jumped almost as high as the fish and barely kept his footing.
Gramps suppressed a chuckle and said as he washed his hand in the cool water, “Keep him? Don’t look that way now! He’s gone back to his fish friends”!
The boy was not upset, maybe a little relieved. “Bet he’s got something to talk about when he gets back”.
Gramps smiled. “Imagine he does. Imagine he does”.
THE END
Bio:
Have been a creative in graphic design and illustration for the past 50 years. I also taught graphic arts for 20 years at the college level, including TCU. Now I seek to draw with words.