Stars reflect from the black ocean mirror, such that it appears we sail unimpeded through space. Void above; void below. Our barge cuts through the stagnant and stinking sea; soundless but for a faint high-pitched sizzling. Forged from cold iron, our boat keeps us safe from the floating corruptive sorcery, but dissolves at the mundane threats of salt and acid.
When the world stopped spinning the waves stopped crashing and the wind stopped blowing. Without constant global churn the magic settled; in the seas, in the rivers, in the rain.
We sail to the Axis; the world must turn.
Whew! Again, just in before the door shut.
I only got the story down (quickly written, sorry if it’s crap) and hit post and then managed to link it to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge (check out her Blog here) just in time. Thanks to Rochelle, our constant host.
Thanks also to Jennifer Pendegrast for the photo (her blog is here).
This story… this is loosely based on an idea I’ve got floating in the back of my mind – a fantasy story where a world has stopped spinning (obviously fantasy, as the world would lose its atmosphere, and we would probably all fly off into space amongst other issues) and magic (that had been kept diffuse and manageable) accumulated in dangerous and toxic quantities…
So far I’ve got the background, the characters, the end, this scene…but no actual storyline. Needless to say, it’s an inactive idea right now.