Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 7, October 2014 Read Online Free Page B
Author: Manfred Gabriel Alvaro Zinos-Amaro Jeff Stehman Matthew Lyons Salena Casha William R.D. Wood Meryl Stenhouse Eric Del Carlo R. Leigh Hennig
trapped in here with Luca, to have all night to convince him, to talk about our journey off the island, our plans for the future. In my plans, he believed me.
#
I sit on the bench, my gaze on the floor. Luca is busy lifting things up onto tables in case the water comes in under the door. He is talking to me, a constant stream of words, sometimes about his work, sometimes about me and my future here, now that school is done.
He doesn't understand that I don't want a future here. I don't want to marry one of these islanders and raise sheep and only know three hundred people my entire life. He doesn't understand that when he leaves, he will take my future with him. That he was my future.
The starbursts are constant now, tumbling over one another to get my attention. I can't bring myself to call them phosphenes . Luca thinks there is something wrong in my head. But there isn't. My mother didn't come from here. I'm not broken. How do I make him see this?
When I blink, the starbursts are frantic static across my eyelids. I will not look. I don't want to see what they have to say.
But the lights go out. Luca is swearing. I cannot help but see them now, in the dark, filling my vision with fireworks. With each gust outside they scatter and dance like leaves, as if the wind is blowing them through my head.
"Gemma, Gemma there's a torch near you somewhere, on the bench—" There is a crash and swearing. Curling spirals. Blooming flowers. Sharp lightning from the shutters.
My searching fingers find the torch. "I have it." My voice is rusty in the dark.
"Good. Bring it over here, I think I've knocked one of the receivers over."
I put the torch down on the bench. My school dress pulls easily over my head. I kick off my shoes and slip across the floor to Luca, following the lines that crackle and spin from his words. I am afraid and electrified, all at once.
My hands meet the fabric of his shirt. His hands grab my shoulders, then let go instantly when he touches my flesh.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth. It is as warm and firm as I imagined. His hands come back down, to rest on my hips. His soft palms feel wonderful on my skin.
He pulls away. "Gemma, stop.” His hands fumble for mine in the darkness. “You don’t want to do this.” His voice is gentle, but in his words I hear that he does not want me. I am nothing to him, just a crazy, inbred girl who sees visions. Someone to be nice to. Nobody important.
I run to the door, stubbing my toe on a box, my skin hot with shame. I fling the door open and splash out into the night. The ocean washes my feet, driven up onto the shingle by the howling wind. The cold spray stings my naked skin.
Luca is at the door. “Gemma! Come inside!” He hesitates, clearly worried about the swirling water. I turn my back on him.
My mother abandoned me here, on this lonely rock, under a hole in the sky. This can’t be all there is. This can’t be all the meaning in my life.
I lift my hands up to the shining stars, begging them to take me away. The wind roars across the land. A wave, higher than me, crashes over the edge of the island and shoots along the shingle. I am up to my knees in icy, foaming water.
This is dangerous. Many people have lost their footing, been drawn down and swept away by the waves, when the wind blows on Tristan da Cunha.
I hear splashing. Luca forges through the water toward me. I can feel shell and stone shifting beneath my feet. Here is a way off the island. A permanent way.
Then Luca grabs my shoulders, his smooth hands warm on my skin. Flowers bloom, new constellations under the bright veil above. I feel that I will never know what they are saying to me.
The tug of the water is stronger now. The shingle roars away. Luca is heavier than I, and the water draws him down. He is not used to the sea, and suddenly fear blooms for him in my chest, and for me too, should the sea pull him away. It is my fault he is out here. I grab his hand as his head
#
I sit on the bench, my gaze on the floor. Luca is busy lifting things up onto tables in case the water comes in under the door. He is talking to me, a constant stream of words, sometimes about his work, sometimes about me and my future here, now that school is done.
He doesn't understand that I don't want a future here. I don't want to marry one of these islanders and raise sheep and only know three hundred people my entire life. He doesn't understand that when he leaves, he will take my future with him. That he was my future.
The starbursts are constant now, tumbling over one another to get my attention. I can't bring myself to call them phosphenes . Luca thinks there is something wrong in my head. But there isn't. My mother didn't come from here. I'm not broken. How do I make him see this?
When I blink, the starbursts are frantic static across my eyelids. I will not look. I don't want to see what they have to say.
But the lights go out. Luca is swearing. I cannot help but see them now, in the dark, filling my vision with fireworks. With each gust outside they scatter and dance like leaves, as if the wind is blowing them through my head.
"Gemma, Gemma there's a torch near you somewhere, on the bench—" There is a crash and swearing. Curling spirals. Blooming flowers. Sharp lightning from the shutters.
My searching fingers find the torch. "I have it." My voice is rusty in the dark.
"Good. Bring it over here, I think I've knocked one of the receivers over."
I put the torch down on the bench. My school dress pulls easily over my head. I kick off my shoes and slip across the floor to Luca, following the lines that crackle and spin from his words. I am afraid and electrified, all at once.
My hands meet the fabric of his shirt. His hands grab my shoulders, then let go instantly when he touches my flesh.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth. It is as warm and firm as I imagined. His hands come back down, to rest on my hips. His soft palms feel wonderful on my skin.
He pulls away. "Gemma, stop.” His hands fumble for mine in the darkness. “You don’t want to do this.” His voice is gentle, but in his words I hear that he does not want me. I am nothing to him, just a crazy, inbred girl who sees visions. Someone to be nice to. Nobody important.
I run to the door, stubbing my toe on a box, my skin hot with shame. I fling the door open and splash out into the night. The ocean washes my feet, driven up onto the shingle by the howling wind. The cold spray stings my naked skin.
Luca is at the door. “Gemma! Come inside!” He hesitates, clearly worried about the swirling water. I turn my back on him.
My mother abandoned me here, on this lonely rock, under a hole in the sky. This can’t be all there is. This can’t be all the meaning in my life.
I lift my hands up to the shining stars, begging them to take me away. The wind roars across the land. A wave, higher than me, crashes over the edge of the island and shoots along the shingle. I am up to my knees in icy, foaming water.
This is dangerous. Many people have lost their footing, been drawn down and swept away by the waves, when the wind blows on Tristan da Cunha.
I hear splashing. Luca forges through the water toward me. I can feel shell and stone shifting beneath my feet. Here is a way off the island. A permanent way.
Then Luca grabs my shoulders, his smooth hands warm on my skin. Flowers bloom, new constellations under the bright veil above. I feel that I will never know what they are saying to me.
The tug of the water is stronger now. The shingle roars away. Luca is heavier than I, and the water draws him down. He is not used to the sea, and suddenly fear blooms for him in my chest, and for me too, should the sea pull him away. It is my fault he is out here. I grab his hand as his head
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