The Ark - Short Story

[Eon]

((Hello! This is the first time I have posted any work on the site and I hope to get good feedback and tips. I rarely get to finish a short story or even anything that is creative (essays are a different story and related school work) I thankfully got into my schools creative writing program/class. The Professor is fantastic and monthly will provide us with a theme and we must produce a short story by the end of the month for a grade. Simple? I guess, our first assignment was given a few days ago and I’ve been able to start a mock of my short story. The theme is: Out of this world – he informed us we can be creative to our hearts content, but it must capture something that is “out of this world” hard to believe etc. He wrote down other basic guidelines.

Again, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did struggling to make it perfect. I also looked forward to criticism and or possible changes that should be made. I went over it twice, so far and caught nothing. However, I am not perfect grammatically.

I will add more as I go, and re-edit the second post with more of the story.

NOTE: At the point with Hector Mann, I am not exactly sure of the formal retorts for the relinquishing of sin. I asked a friend of mine and hopefully she will get back to me and I will edit and switch that up accordingly. Until then, that's what I have for that.))

[Eon]

The Ark


=================


Four had been chosen, offspring of Adam and Eve.

One to capture the youth of humanity, another with a most wicked weapon, a third of pious background and a fourth in dire need of salvation. Each to determine, calculate and evaluate themselves and their peers.


=================

“Ms. Rothchild?” A female voice erupted from the phone unit on his desk.

“Yes?” the voice replied in a bothered tone.

“The board is on another line, they request a conference call.”

“Did you tell them I was busy?” the woman was of middle age. The back of her leather chair saw only the sprawling ocean cliffs from the corner office. Gray specks began to form in her hair, noting age, yet she refused to come to terms.

“Yes of course ma’m, they insist however.”

“Tell them I am out,” the reply was even quicker than before, a cold retort.

“Its Mr. Chamberlain, they are all there…its in regards to the…”

“Thank you Catherine.” A finger quickly went to the pulsing red button to cut the woman off. Reclining back in her chair, hands folded gently into lap a long tired breath was heard. Lack of sleep and meetings in dark corners had put ware and tear upon the businesswoman. With a final thought, a simple choice she switched destiny from their hands to her own. Leaning down to the lowest drawer of her desk, she opened it to reveal a firearm. A simple sidearm of mediocre make.

Sydney Rothchild had become the bedfellow with the greatest of sins. The family name could not bare a scandal with what she had done. Reaching for the weapon white light bathed into her vision.


=================

“Pass it… come on man…” The car itself was completely hot-boxed. Condensation was creeping slowly up the windows of the little Honda and the two boys inside covered in herbal soot.

“Hold on…” another puff and the joint was passed to the passenger seat, eager fingers taking it. For a pair of sixteen year olds, after soccer practice, this was the life. Pure natural bliss nestled in Mother Nature’s illegal bosom. Leaning back in the drivers seat, Calum Dawson closed his eyes for a moment sinking deeper into that “on the ocean” feeling.

“It’s done,” his companion said, rolling down the window briefly and tossing the joint out into the din of the night.

“Mmm…” opening hazel eyes slowly he noticed the time and jolted, “SHIT! My mom is making dinner… uh… go, can you walk home? I need to go… uh…” a glazed looked was only met in return to his sudden outburst. “Dude please, she’ll kill me. Eye drops… eye drops…” rummaging through the dash compartment, leaning over the knees of his baking friend. “Ah…” fumbling with the keys, stuck into the ignition and turned.

As the car came to life, Calum was thrust into an ocean of pure white light.


=================

“Bless me father for I have sinned.” The voice across the stitching was solemn, devout.

“Speak, my child.” Hector Mann had resided within the Church for many years. Partaking in preaching the Word and passing along the virtues to the youth of the world, yet faced with a decision, the aged man would usually crumble. The marriage with his late wife, Cecilia had become rocky. Her eventual death led to his absence from the Church itself.

“I have lied several times, to those I care about the most…” the voice said. Father Mann sat in contemplation, not reviewing the sinner’s situation, but his own. Retirement. It was too much. “Father…?” the voice searched.

“You must approach those whom you were dishonest and right this wrong, then all will be forgiven.” Making his decision in that same instant, he rose and stepped toward the oaken door ignoring the disembodied voice.

As the threshold was revealed, the light of heaven itself consumed him. Or so he thought.


=================

The gun was held limply within gloved hand. The culprit himself was a man of scruffy demographic, his clothes were not the best and the unshaven face did not help his case either. The 7-11 proprietor, albeit frightened out of his mind quickly assured himself of the stores policy: do what they say.

And he had. All the money within the register was in a small black duffle bag on the counter. Fleeting glances were set upon the gun in the rigid pale hand. Were they shaking?

“Do you have a safe?”

“Y-yes… I cannot access though, it is corporate locked…” the man behind the counter stood deathly still, quite unsure of the exact outcome.

“Just open it, damn it… now!” The point of the gun was thrust through the air. A surge of adrenaline engulfed the nerves of the storeowner.

“Okay…okay…” motioning down below the counter. Beginning to kneel, attempting to get at the button to alert the authorities. Sirens could be heard in the distance and the armed man lunged for the bag and bolted for the door. Sliding along the linoleum, he had not noticed the “Floor Wet” sign below and was sent sprawling. Banging his cranium, his vision was merely white. Nothing more.

=================

They all stood in …a place. A description of the location was hard to piece together. An expanse of soft white stretched out into a non-existent horizon. None of the four even regarded one another; they merely stared looking upward into a swirling mass of twisting light. It was a mass heavenly bodies, spheres that vaguely resembled planets and galaxies. Leaning further, enough to fall completely on their backs, it expanded across an infinite sky of star and solar system alike. It was eerily beautiful.

Removing themselves, in unison from shock, they noted their company. The young Calum was first to speak:

“Is that at tree?” his voice seemed to echo, where they in some auditorium or…planetarium? This was the first thought of Father Mann.

“Yeah…it is.” Hands upon her hips, Sydney Rothchild squinted. Where is the soil? The means of fertility she thought? A woman of educated background, this was something that baffled even her, a businesswoman who had indeed seen most of the world. The tree appeared gigantic, rivaling even those of the Redwoods. The roots seemed to travel, splaying outward then vanishing into cloudy white. Emerald leaves glistened against the stark white, the bark upon the trunk a healthy brown tinge.

Silence reigned supreme for some time. Each stood in silence, staring at the tree, the spinning cosmos above. A glance to one another, unsure of the others motive. Where was this place, they questioned in thought separately. The Father would assume it was some act of God, a sign to keep steady with the Church. Calum would conclude it was a crazy trip. The bud was defiantly laced. Sydney was still uncertain and finally the now unarmed thug blamed it on his aching head.

“I can’t feel any air… or breeze…” Calum stated, taking the first step forward onto the pure white floor. He glanced at the tree then back to the others, “What are your names?”

Sydney glanced up, hesitated and said nothing eventually wandering off a little further.

“Hector Mann.” The Father approached Calum and held out a hand. Shaking, the young man smiled briefly noting the clothing of a man in the service of God.

“Nice to meet you Father,” was that respectful to call him that? They were definitely not in a church. “What about you?” Calum looked to the thug, whom merely stared at his shoes.

“Daniel.” It was muttered and he said nothing more.

“What about him? Do you know him?” Calum ventured toward the Father.

“No. I do not know any of you,” the reply was confused, as if he attempted to piece together lost information. In his old age, the tendencies to forget occurred often. Silence took grip once more and the three wandered aimlessly back and forth. Sydney was standing several paces away staring at the large tree.

A voice broke the silence, it echoed in an unearthly way. Almost metallic sounding, as if within iron. Holding a tinge of youthfulness, it was lucid to the mind. It came from a figure standing before the three clad in a stole of the most vibrant of blue. It was a young man, or so it appeared. The appearance was near Calum’s age of sixteen, tufts of blonde hair caressed perfect, exotic…no… breathtaking features. They could not help but stare. Daniel, the ill named thug, noted the clothing of the young blonde man. Apart from the stole in oceanic fabric, ribbons of silver cascaded down and off the slender shoulders.

“Welcome Sons of Adam…” the head of the blonde tilted toward Sydney now staring at the boy. She approached and joined the others, “Daughter of Eve.” Striking blue eyes stared at the four and each felt as if they needed to show some sort of fealty to this being. Was it human? Calum and Daniel thought this, the Father forced his thoughts to believe it was divine, an angel. Sydney noted the utter beauty of the boy, unearthly. Daniel wanted out. Now.

“Where the hell are we…and who are you?” Father Mann spoke almost suddenly. The others look at him in an odd light; it appeared unbecoming for a holy man to speak such. Calum smirked at this. The youthful voice broke into the space before them once more.

“You are within The Grand View, tread lightly Sons and Daughter. Touch nothing. Immediate aggressive action will be taken if this is not abided by.” The face was hard to remove from ones thoughts; a smile was constantly upon the soft lips of the robed blonde.

“Answer his other question,” Sydney suddenly barked, not even giving the young creature a moment to reply. Blue eyes regarded the woman.

“I am the Steward.” Nothing followed. The voice soon echoed and died away and they all stood before this Steward. Daniel muttered something, inaudible. The Steward turned to Daniel slowly, “I cannot process that request at this time, please rephrase question.” The Father regarded the blonde for a moment, and then glanced to Daniel.

“What did you say…ask…” he quickly corrected.

“I asked, the Steward of who? A Steward is a servant right?” Daniel glanced up at the other three. He had learned a thing or two even while in prison.

“Approved,” the Steward intoned, “I am the Eighth Steward of the Great Architect. Does this satisfy your query Daniel Brown?” In reply, he nodded. The Steward returned to periodically glancing at each, over and over.





((More to come))