Star Child
The Discovery
Sworn to secrecy, my friend Ph.D. Rue and I, Ph. D. Poole, forcibly agreed to sworn secrecy by certain governments’ agencies which must remain nameless. Threats targeted not only us but our families. How do we disclose such an important discovery with implications to all humanity’s survival without breaking our oaths and endangering our loved ones? We tormented over our decision for days and believed we found a solution.
Undoubtedly, the archeological find shown so fantastical, people would struggle with disbelief anyway. So, we simply decided to put the information from the entire account into a story with a precursor explaining it as fiction and any similarities to actual people or events as purely coincidental. Therefore, our story stands as “fiction” and we will “not” say names have been changed to protect the innocent, meaning our families. You may recognize actual places and historical facts, but we want to be clear. These records persist as “fiction” with a wink.
Realizing an element of danger still exists, we felt compelled to relay what we found regardless. The scientific consequences alone loomed too crucial to our planet to hide from the public of the entire world. The shame would smother us if we kept the knowledge to ourselves and failed humankind for the sake of our own safety or even that of our families. The shocking nature of the discovery alarmed the governments initially. In their revelation, they feared the public reaction and panic enough to require our silence, and they felt their threats to our families justified. Thus, we leave room for doubt to avoid the anarchy disdained by the entities with the power to harm us, and for the last time state emphatically these accounts endure as “fiction” with wink and nod.
******
Girls’ Night Out
Why was she with him? Realizing she didn’t remember his name, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she felt a wispy chill on her neck which recently flashed hot.
She could see his dark silhouette in the bright light of the bathroom door. He washed up after. She knew why she journeyed to this fancy hotel room, tranquilly resting on the high thread count sheets. She speculated on the thread count really not caring. Almost nodding off, she rushed back to her original thought. Experiencing a true orgasm for the first time in her life, she knew why she accompanied him here. Was it worth it? She misplaced her wedding rings earlier that night in a rush to go out with the ladies from work. Her husband would never understand this.
She knew why she left the safety of the ‘she pack’ of her girls’ night out to run away with the debonair stranger. The stereotypical tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to describe him. As he approached their ‘she pack’ of friends, his scent dilated their pupils and raised an alert among the women seconds before he grasped them with his company. Disarmed by his warm, safe aroma of a morning coffee house, the group relaxed. Received immediately as a suitor, they greeted him with calls, singing out introductions, head tilting, hair flinging, tail wagging and eye posturing. So frenzied their welcoming, she thought fighting might break out, or the pack would frighten him away by attempting to devour him on the spot.
By no means the leader of their group, she faded back to observe the outcome, but she already desired him. He possessed the dangerous bad boy vibe wrapped in a savory cinnamon bun package. Something you shouldn’t consume because it’s not good for you, but it tastes so sweet you eat it anyway pretending you’ll swear off cinnamon buns tomorrow, knowing full well you won’t. How could she resist? Maneuvering to his side, she hunted. Subtly pressing against his body to nudge his attention, she pounced on her prey ahead of the rest with pouty lips and fixed eye contact she refused to break. Transfixed in her gaze, she knew she took down her prey. As she broke away with her prize in hand, howls and cries of protest went up from the ‘she pack’ like “you can’t leave us now, the nights just getting started, we don’t know him” and “you’ve had too much to drink.”
******
After the Apocalypse
“Root hog or die,” the old Appalachian saying Lilly’s Granny Sugar preached, swirled around in her brain like water flushing down a toilet bowl. During the Great Depression, her Granny Sugar lived through some tough times in Pike County Kentucky, and she demanded her daughter Rose learn how to survive from early childhood. Simple truth Lilly thought; we’re all like those boys in Lord of the Flies, reverting back to savage animals at the first sign law and order waiver.
During the infamous Hatfield and McCoy feud, Pike County provided home ground for the McCoy clan, and her Granny Sugar told tales of “Devil” Anse Hatfield from West Virginia standing waist high in creek water under a swinging bridge to shoot McCoy men as they crossed. Pouring perfectly good flour around their log cabin to let the Hatfield and McCoy clans know they stayed a neutral family, Granny said her dad wasted the flour because those Hatfield boys killed him anyway.
“When society breaks down only the strong survive, root hog or die,” Granny Sugar warned.
Letting her daughter know Granny Sugar’s mother failed to be spared, Lilly’s mother Rose added to the story. Before leaving her for dead, those same Hatfield boys repeatedly raped Great Gran. Hiding in the root cellar and only five years old, Granny Sugar emerged and nursed Great Gran back to health. Rose continued the family tradition of strict upbringing with sayings like “spare the switch and spoil the child.” Becoming more independent with every lick she took, Lilly rebelled in her teens when she snuck out of the house to go play at the “beer garden” with those “beardy faces” as Rose called the local bar and men.