I wrote this story based on a wacko dream I had that has all the markings of a perfect short story. (It was wacko because I could not ever figure out what CAUSED the topics or setting of the dream. It was totally random.)
Got an honorable mention for WoTF earlier this year, which was pretty encouraging considering I basically wrote out my dream (adjusted to make sense) and called it good. It’s very dramatic and definitely needs a rewrite, and could probably be twice as long (it’s only like 3000 words!).
Here’s the beginning of You Were At the Siege.
The market rang with the unharmonious voices of hawkers and squawks of fowl, punctuated by the laughter of children, bleats of goats, and the beating of my own heart thudding harder and harder in my chest. Only partly from exertion, as I’d refused the horse and chosen to walk from the research station to civilization. On my own. My sweat-stained clothes and dirt-filled nostrils told me that had been an unwise decision.
Mostly, my heart was starting to panic as the buzz and chaos of the market made me conscious of my own stillness, a reminder that I might not be welcome back in this place. That, and the market security guy who had glanced my way earlier—his eyes traveled past me at first, then snapped back, a little curl coming to that spot between his eyebrows. I dismissed his gaze almost conspicuously, knowing that I have the right to be here, I have an invitation, I am not trespassing.
Logic is one thing. Paranoia is another. I slid my way into the crowd and wove past men leading ponies and women with reed baskets on their heads. A vendor waved a stick of fried meat in my face and my stomach rumbled but I managed to avoid temptation. I kept my eyes and nose resolutely turned from turnovers stuffed with heart-of-palm. My ears caught another burst of laughter and I gravitated toward it.
A group of children were playing a clapping game behind a wall of shipping crates, their goats tied with loose ropes to their wrists. A small horned kid welcomed me by attempting to eat my poncho, and I deflected him with a scratch on the head as I slid to the ground amidst the children.
“Can I hide here?” I asked, a little breathlessly, and gave them my best white-toothed grin.
They observed me critically. They all bore the dark hair and sun-tinted skin of those born on Pluvera, while my light-brown hair and green eyes marked me immediately as a foreigner. My skin had once been as dark as theirs, but years on the Belt devoid of natural sunlight gave me a sickly pale sheen, helped little by the last sixth months at the research station. Despite that, I spoke the language fluently, and wore a soft maroon band around my long hair, marking me as an unmarried woman. A Wanderer. I believe it was this marker, and not my winning smile, that led to their acceptance.
A small girl giggled and held out her hand. I took it and shifted closer to her, bringing the teams to an even six on each side.
“Who are you hiding from?” an older girl asked, getting up to peek around the crates then sitting right back down. A younger boy mimicked her.
“My past,” I said, winking to show I was teasing them. “How old do you think I am, anyway?” I asked. I hunkered my shoulders down. “Think I pass as one of you guys?”
That caused some laughter. “You could be my big sister,” the first small girl said, squeezing my hand, which she still hadn’t released.
The others began to explain the game to me. I’d played variants of it hundreds of times, but as with all things, games evolve, they change, and it took me a few minutes to get the timing right.
I wondered with some obsession how old I appeared. I was probably still malnourished and lacking those muscles that come with grounded labor. It pleased me to think I could pass as a teenager.
Well, I might look a lot younger than I am, but I still look like me. A pale, light-eyed person sticks out in a place like this. Not that there weren’t other foreigners, but most people didn’t like to actually venture onto Pluvera. Similarly, 98% of the population here would never step off-world. That’s what Belt merchants are for.
I have a feeling he was standing there for at least half a minute before the glances of the children alerted me to his presence. My heart, which had calmed down in the ease and nostalgia of the clapping game, began to beat hard again, and I could feel myself start to hyperventilate.
“I know you,” said a strong, manly voice behind me.
I swallowed and finally turned around. It was the guard from earlier, and the crowded market was giving him a wide bubble of empty space. A whirl of sand lifted from the gap between him and me.
“Have we met?” I tried, forcing my voice and face to be cheerful. From what people told me, I knew I probably grimaced and sounded like I was about to keel over. Years ago it would have had the opposite effect, earning me smiles in return and a pat on the head. I’d always been small and, to some accounts, angelic.
“You were at the siege,” he said, at first with some uncertainty. His chin lifted, as if he were listening. “You stood against us, against the walls of Pluvechivi.”
The memory slammed itself into the forefront of my mind’s eye, the wall of the capital city rising high and imposing, the crowds of militants pushing me between them as they sought to scale and tear down those walls. I felt the wash of fear that I felt then, and it brought with it new fear as the guard’s face went dark. He darted forward and although I cried out he took hold of my poncho and dragged me forward into the bare sand, squeezing the fabric about my neck. My vision swam. The little hand on my arm was torn free.
The guard dropped me and began to chant the aluli’iaiv. Where his speech had been rough, his tone now was beautiful and low, and I found myself starting to sing along. The aluli’iaiv is like a lullaby, it brings that warmth of childhood, knowing that you are loved and protected. I had felt that way as a youth, that Pluvera knew me and would move the sands for me—until the siege, where the planet marked me as an enemy.
Little swirls of sand rose around me. The planet was answering.
[end excerpt]
Myra Karine & Her Blog 
Yay! 🙌