– Feather’s Fall –
began in the blog Stories: Funny Things.
As the Serial-Story unfolds, it would be a gift to hear any
feedback, thoughts, feelings and/or challenges that might arise for you.
Please explore the Feather’s Fall Feature page to begin this journey of doubt, faith, struggle and hope.
Story Arc (1. Miriam)
She loved it, couldn’t deny it, hell wouldn’t! She had loved being a Creator, and knew she would be lying to herself, and Rachael, if she ever claimed she didn’t – at times – miss the satisfaction when it worked. When that gene sequence snapped into place and the abstract art of biogineering translated into tangible existence was a … rush! She hated the word, but the mirror reflects truth, even when avoided, her Mentor always told her.
And that was it, that bloody reflection that she knew was killing … no it was devouring her essence. It was never enough. Even when she had the big one – ‘the breakthrough’ – which everyone thought was even bigger than Mirkle’s Temporal Solution, it was momentary, and left her desiring more. She was the star and from that ascended & lofty place, she had walked away.
It was hard, but not because of the loss of the rush, but because she did not know what Rachael would think. She needed her, not in a dependent manner, but they completed one another. Longings, melancholy even despair were bearable – at times almost forgotten – when Rachael held her. Whether after that moment when the Bliss eradicated the Now or when a simple touch reminded her she was not alone … she needed Rachael to not only be okay with the choice, but the move …
“You what?” Rachael asked, with her always glistening amber eyes shining
“Seems I’ve figured out how to do it?” she said in her accustomed stammer. Sometimes people thought she communicated that way owing to humility, others ego and some because she was inept in interacting with anything other than a genetic abstraction. The reality was … well she never went there.
“You mean the soft into the hard?” Rachael replied in a manner that always reduced the idea to the essentials.
“Yeah – transmuting organic compounds into metallic membranes. It’s not just possible, it’s repeatable,” she paused.
Bird’s feather with grain of sand
They looked at each other. Rachael smiled. They were okay. They had worked on the Whispering when communication was too cumbersome.
Whispering was another one of those phenomena that was revealed after Mirkle’s work. It wasn’t telepathy, which continued to elude. It was discovered to be an ethereal, even sublime, connexion. The neurology still seemed fuzzy, but essentially it was assumed that those with whom you practiced Whispering were able to connect at the quantum, the essential level, with the other. Thoughts transmitted so much data that words would never be able to convey and the Whispering threaded you into the knowing of another’s tapestry.
“We’ll go – of course Dear One.” Rachael said touching the side of her face tenderly.
She loved it, couldn’t deny it, hell wouldn’t! The suns’ dawn kissed the desert’s varied-hued red stones and in that every-morning event the crystals sang. It was like the Bliss, but it not only lasted, it resonated until the next morning’s event. This was why she left – calm. Away from the Polis, simply being, no longer a Creator. She would never go back …