Legends

Recently I was part of a writing challenge where I and a number of others wrote a short story based on six photos. This is my result. Be warned though, it ends on a cliffhanger.

The sun was dawning over the city of Peak. Laar rolled over in his bed, not quite ready to begin the day. He poked at the ground with his scaly tail, testing the temperature. Finally, slowly, he pulled himself out from under the covers and looked out the window of his wooden, mushroom-shaped house. He saw the rest of the city’s suburbs stretch out before him, leading up to the hedgehouses, or the expensive district. And then he saw the time.

Quickly getting dressed, Laar grabbed his satchel and ran out the door. He was going to be late for work.

Fortunately, the Boa was just about to slither away as he dashed up and jumped on. The snake, casting a rueful glance at Laar, began to head off down the route. It stopped a few times along the way, picking up other animals; some lizards, like Laar, and other insects. It passed through the hedgehouse neighborhood. Before long the Boa was pulling up to the transfer station that would take Laar the rest of the journey down into Mistvale.

Mistvale itself was a massive city, situated at the foot of the Mountains, the hub of activity for most of the mountain cities. The city’s namesake, it was perpetually covered in mist. Its biggest industry was travel.

Balloon travel.

Laar hopped off the first Boa and leaped onto the second. It slithered down the mountain like a drop of rain down one of Laar’s windows.

Several minutes later, several more than Laar would have liked, it finally arrived at the Mistvale Stop. He slid off the Boa’s back and onto the cobbled floor. Dashing through the streets, Ev’s Air Service came into view. He eased open the door and slipped inside.

“Laar!” called the grasshopper manager, Ev. “You’re late!”

“I know, boss.”

“You could get fired for that.”

“I know, boss.”

“Now get to work. Your balloon is waiting.”

“Yes, boss.”

Laar scampered across the room and through the door in the corner. It led out to the balloon-filled hanger, and beyond that, a breathtaking sight: the Cloud Sea. At a quick glance, it might have looked like a sea of water. But it wasn’t. Mistvale was built high, high above the other nearby civilizations. It was so high that the clouds rolled over the city’s banks. Friendly orange lanterns marked the edge of the ground before one would fall through the Sea to a horrible death.

But this was no time for admiring. A scowling reptilian mechanic with a black cap flopped his tail on the ground impatiently, and the balloon passengers looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” Laar said.

“Again,” the mechanic replied.

Laar ignored the comment and, opening the wicket door, stepping into the balloon. He was filled with a strange anticipation every time he did this, despite doing it every day for years. Laar sighed and began easing the balloon out of the hanger and into the misty cover above. It swirled around them like grey fingers, reaching into the balloon carriage and chilling Laar’s cold blood.

“So, where are you headed?” he asked with a friendly smile. He looked his passengers over and realized it was a family of ladybugs. A young larva hid behind his mother and peered at Laar with wide eyes.

The father stepped forward, a short insect with a blue shell. “We’re headed to the Other Shore.”

Laar took a step back. “The Other Shore? You must be Colonists!”

“We are. We’re joining the ladybug colony that was established last fall.”

Laar looked at the family in admiration. “Well, I did not know this morning that I would be in a basket with Colonists.” He deployed the side sails, which would hopefully harness the wind, sending them towards the speck on the Horizon of the Cloud Sea. The Other Shore.

In reality, it was another mountain range, or perhaps a continuation of the Mountains, no one knew. But it was sure far away.

The wind picked up, and Laar turned the sails to head towards the Shore. “We should be about three hours from the Shore, perhaps a little more.”

The father nodded, and the larva peeked out from behind his mother a little farther. “Are ye nice, mister?”

Laar laughed. “Of course I am! All of my passengers say how friendly and funny I—” The balloon lurched sharply downwards. “Oh, no,” he mumbled.

The larva looked up at his father. “Are we gonna be okay?”

“Yes, darling,” the mother replied. The blue-shelled father looked more unsure and gazed over the edge with fear in his eyes.

The balloon continued to go downwards, pulled by some unseen force. Laar fought with the sails in a vain attempt to correct the course, but they merely flapped in the strong wind and then fell from the side altogether.

This is why Colonists are so sparse in volunteering and even fewer in return.

The balloon was now inside the Cloud Sea, spiraling downwards into a white void. Then, Laar realized. It wasn’t the clouds he saw. It was snow. He had never seen snow, and it was an old legend that told of tiny white crystals that covered the depth of the Sea. Now he was going to get a firsthand glimpse of it.

“Hang on!” he yelled. With a jarring crash, the basket skidded across the snow and came to a halt, falling over and spilling its passengers. Quickly checking himself for wounds, Laar stood up and helped the ladybug family out of the basket.

A moment later, everyone surprisingly safe and without injury, Laar surveyed the scene around him. The ground was covered in white. Above and not too far ahead, black clouds drifted over in the direction of the crash. It was a storm, something else Laar had only read about. I guess today is a day of legends.

Laar frantically searched for shelter from the coming storm. Just ahead, visible but only after a close inspection, was a trench in the snow.

“Over there everyone! We should be safe from the winds!” They all dropped over the edge and into the trench.

Once inside, Laar looked farther down the trench and saw something blue. It wasn’t snow, he didn’t remember ever hearing the stuff was blue, but it was something. It might be a better shelter.

“This way!” The ladybugs followed behind, running as fast as their spindly legs could carry them. Nearing the blue spot, it looked to be more and more like a door. The winds picked up and a roaring sound—thunder, it must have been—complimented the snow stinging Laar’s face. He reached out and touched the golden handle. It was freezing. It nearly made him pass out. He forced himself to keep consciousness as he swung it open and pulled his passengers inside.

Out of danger, Laar had a chance to think over what had just happened. The balloon fell, the myth known as snow now covered his clothes like a blanket and a legendary storm was near. To finish all of that, a mysterious house with a blue door was planted in the ground, completely empty. Or was it empty? Laar turned and surveyed the room. A light filled it, from where he could not determine. A line of doors stood in place of a wall on the opposite end of the square room.

He took a cautious step forwards. Who knew where these doors led? In such a strange new set of circumstances, anything could happen.

Laar reached out, took the handle, and revealed something he never would have thought real.