It was our people’s last peaceful summer, though peace would not describe the sky. Ships exploded overhead like bursting stars, raining molten innards on the sea. Only one star fell to land. From its broken depths a child emerged, forged of light. Hunted by death.
It was I who found the child. Who waited for her people, left food and water, stayed out of sight. Until the sky cleared again and I knew their genocide was complete.
But children should not suffer for their ancestors. I took her in. She learnt our ways.
Our people’s peace was forsaken ever after.
This one’s a 100 word microfiction with the prompt theme ‘summer’, first person POV.
It actually belongs to one of my existing scifi universe character backstories… But you’ll have to wait for Book 2 of the Archivist series to find out who. In the meantime, I hope you like the microstory.
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