Absolute Quiet

✿ This article was featured in Issue #4 of the Atlantic Bulletin

There were plumes in the sky, sent from bunkers buried deep in the well of the Earth, killing with switches. Vekllei went to war, and so Tzipora went to war with it.

The throbbing machinery of another world began turning, and anyone who saw the bomb would hear it. Passing seconds dislocated and caught heartbeats. The plumes were pretty. It was such a shame, those plumes. It was a quiet afternoon in the flower-tundras.

There was an absolute quiet among the grasses, and peace in her heart. She had work to do. She was a warden, after all — and she’d done a good job spotting the missile before the sirens caught up. In truth, any devastation seemed incomprehensible. The flower-tundra would last forever. But that was her job, and she had to do it.

She left her bucket by the freshwater creek, intending to retrieve it a while later. The drinking water tasted better up here. She turned from the plume and followed the moss path out of the flower-tundra. Her village was before her.

So ended the old ways and so started the new.