Jacinta followed behind, head ducked. Lucky—they made it up quickly, painlessly. There were systems along the thick roots; giant tubes that an Arborem could be sucked through, like a straw. She followed, rising up, ivy curling and pulling her as an internal lever. She hardly saw the floors, the tree, the village—instead, the roots. Everything was lush and warm; summertime, she assumed. After all, the sap-gnaw nearly tore her head off…
They continued upward as though it was an elevator. She kept her head low. The other Arborem paid them no heed; it seemed, luckily, that Silas’s disguise worked.
If they were stuck…
No. They wouldn’t be.
They continued. Silas pointed his horns once they reached the exit, and the tunnel system stopped—they exited. It appeared almost like a hangar; different plant-made machines, flying devices. You imagine Michelangelo’s drawings, his inventions, but—here instead.
Sentinels—tall, strong Arborem—lined the branches. They were thinner, full of leaves to cover the machinery. In the distance, another tree—huh. The enemy.
Jacinta followed Silas. Branches that pointed upward contained rooms within the hollow wood, storage, mostly. Different parts to the ships, weapons—but one had to hold their tech…
He found it…which was, of course, guarded. A tall Arborem waited, holding a spear that curved, twisted, each branch-tip ending in a sharpened stone or poisonous thorn. She stared down at them both, huffing. Jacinta saw a four-leaf clover on her antlers. Huh…good sign.
“Saplings, you should not be up here.”
“Actually, my garden-father told me to come and explore. With physical training comes an understanding of our summer wars and technology, of course; he also suggested I visit the strange technologies. For…research.” Silas’s flowers bloomed in an excitable way. He was trying to lay his charm on thick, huh?
The woman hesitated, then shrugged. “I know you both have just sprouted of our garden; I…suppose you both can go ahead…though you cannot exit with any of the weaponry. Most of it is harmless, so. Yes. Go, though only for a moment.”
She reached out. Her fingers stretched and unlatched the door—it slid away, revealing a room of strange, advanced technology. Jacinta was looking for the Atlas—little metal dot—
There! She grabbed it and set it against her ear.
Atlas reattached.
[[Indexing…]]
Name:
Jacinta
Age:
14 seasons
Race:
Arborem; Malus sylvestris
Alignment:
Neutral Good
Whatever—she didn’t need the details now. She spun and faced Silas, who was holding something that looked like a taser. He fumbled with it awkwardly, his branch-like fingers struggling to move the buttons perfectly. He sighed, huffed—a few minutes passed. Jacinta waited.
In the distance, she heard something like a boom. The ground beneath them shuddered.
Was war about to start? Oh, no…
“Alright, we’re good. I’ll grab onto you and we’ll get back home, okay?”
Jacinta hesitated.
“If—if you don’t take me home, I will kill you. You understand me?”
Silas snorted, grabbed her, pulled her close, and pressed the button, pressed it against his neck, and—
[[Error]]
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
[[ERROR—null anchor]]
Z0: 0x00000000100101, WH01: 0x000000000000000001, WRL: 0xai000000001A11a000, ERH: 0x0000000000001
WH0: 0x0000000020a01013b, WR_SFT: 0x000000000000010, WH1: 0z000000001A
[[]]
ERROR___
In another lifetime, another universe, another timeline, another linetime, therano verseuni,
harteno mleiftei,
616e6f7468657220756e697665727365
616e6f7468657220756e697665727365
the machine is broken. They are trapped. They remain. Two Arborem left behind in a callous
world. Jacinta angers; her apples perpetually rot, and she dies young, killed in a bomb from the neighboring tribe. Silas sheds his old name and becomes a chief of the tribe of a world that is not his. He mourns her, but never
tells a soul of his past.
Another, they remain. They grow together, mate; sprout apples and fruit and lead together,
peacefully, until
their universe tears open wide like a sap-gnaw jaw and they are swallowed
into a jagged galactic bloom of meteored maw and blistered blood and shimmered stardust.
[[ERROR—null anchor]]
The doe on the mantle continues to cry beaded plastic tears. She was
a mother; her baby will die in a world or be hunted for venison, ruby-red, delicious meat,
squished and chewed between two rows of human teeth. Sinew and muscle and tendon torn and swallowed and spat and brought back to the e/E arth, her skin
hung and stuffed and
The last glacier in another Earth destroys a fishing village. The Blackfeet called it Old Rock. Napi is trapped beneath the plastic island in the Pacific.
***
[https://i.imgur.com/PNagOYd.jpg]
Jacinta gasped awake, immediately falling forward. She heard Joe yell in the distance. There: the floor, tiles, everlasting grease stains and—
Someone grabbed her, hoisted her up. She whipped around, readying a punch—
Joe. No. She dropped her hand, eyes widening. He was glaring. He pulled her back, pointed—he was spitting poison. She couldn’t hear it, but she knew that he was telling Silas off, roaring, and Silas had his hands raised, trying to explain—Joe closed the gap, Jacinta still looped in his arm, about to punch him, knock him down, but Silas grabbed his things and rushed out without another word and Joe pulled Jacinta into the back and sat her down and she tried to breathe and focus and anchor herself down but this was new and her body felt weird and new and everything was hazy and distant and and and—
“I’m fine.” She said. Slowly. She reached up and ran a finger along her lips, feeling them—soft, a little chapped. They were hers. Her lips. Her.
She was okay. She was okay.
She was back home.
But how did she even know it was home? What if this was an alternate universe where ne small thing had changed, which snowballed into…another universe? What if this wasn’t home? She stared up at Joe, blinking, tears in her eyes; focus, focus—
“The hell did that boy do to you?” He asked. Jacinta’s eyes widened. She shook her head wildly.
“Nothing—not like that. He—accidentally sent us to another parallel universe. We were reborn as some…”
Joe’s eye twitched as she semi-frantically explained their situation. Once she was done, he sighed in relief, patting her on the back three times. “Alright, Jace, well, better that than…” He exhaled. “Some other things. Anyway. Uh. You’re back home in one piece, and that’s all that matters, alright? If I ever see that punk again, I’ll kick his ass. You both disappeared for a few seconds. Poof. Like you teleported. Just…so you know.”
Jacinta ran her hands along her legs and straightened. She wiped at her eyes, exhaling. Calm. Calm.
She imagined her mother’s hand on her back, her soft, strong voice. “Cálmate, Jacinta. Estás bien. Estás bien.”
Calm down. She was okay. She was okay.
Just casually jumping into another universe, yeah. No big deal.
“I’m sorry for having you serve his table. Those damn SEE agents are nothing but trouble…you get the rest of the day off, alright? I’ll get some hazard pay for you at the end of next week.” He raked back his dark hair, running his hands along his apron. “Be safe. If you need a, whatever it's called, mental health day, let me know. But a few days in advance; no surprises.” He pointed a thick finger at her and shook it. “Now go and have some tea or something. I need you back tomorrow, alright?”
Jacinta nodded, running her fingers along her palms. “Got it.”
She went to the bathroom, splashed her face with water, and eyed her reflection. Alright, she was still herself. The slightly rounded cheeks, the curly mess of hair, the tired eyes.
She frowned, looking into one of her eyes. She swore she saw a fleck, a shimmer—but no. It was just the light. Weird. She readjusted her bag, attempted to smooth down her hair, pulling it out of the tie, and exited the restaurant, head ducked. What even did she have going on?
Doña. Gregory, the Atlas. Olivia. And…Silas. Whatever the hell this was.
And, of course, paying her rent.
She continued down the street. Empty. Brick walls, apartment windows above, taxis driving along the dirty street. She just needed to get home. She’d call Gregory and ask how he was doing and get everything set up for Olivia and pay her bills and—
“Jacinta!” His voice again.
Silas. Not again…
She spun aside, slid the wand from her bra, and pointed it at Silas, lips curled, teeth bared.
Not. Again.