Saturday, September 2, 2017

ANALOGS, Phoenix fan fiction

Blast from the past!

This story originally appeared in a Phoenix fanzine called "Golden Dreams."

In 1984.

Thank goodness my writing has improved by a factor of about 100 since then ....

For your reading pleasure, and possible groans ...


Bennu dreamed of mirrors and doorways that night. Shattered mirrors, the pieces flying at and through him. He was the doorway, and Yago soldiers -- or were they? -- tried to force their way through. Pain. Like a hundred galaxies exploding in his head. Burning. The smell of blood.

He saw Khahli, who should have married his murdered brother. She was engulfed in fire. Hot flames
of power and life, but death. She screamed soundlessly, and Bennu leaped through the wall of fire to help her. His own pain multiplied. Something was drawing him back, away from her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her through with him. The final shattering explosion in his head ripped away the visions and he was falling. Falling forever. Blackness.

Light exploded in his eyes and Bennu fought for consciousness. He was sitting up in bed, sweat pouring out of him, the light of sunrise shining through his loft window, straight into his eyes. Bennu took a deep breath and closed them again. Relax. Calm down. It was all just a dream.

But why could he still smell burning and blood?

Downstairs, the mares were moving restlessly, and Bennu could sense the beginnings of panic in them. He slid down the ladder barefoot, dressed only in his jeans, to check on them. It was his responsibility to make sure nothing disturbed the broodmares until their foals were dropped. The smell of blood and smoke grew stronger. He followed it to a stack of baled hay in a store room.

A body lay there, sprawled on the hay. A female, singed and smoky, a long, wide stain of blood down one side of her back. Even as Bennu saw her, she groaned and rolled over, pushing her long tangle of red-brown hair out of her face.

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