Pomegrantate Two.
Author: Omelettes
Rating: G (Brief usage of the word "pants.")
Challenge: Pomegranate #2 (Quarantine)
Word Count: 555
Tale: Starlet. ( Index)
Summary: A... thing... lands in the McCutchens' backyard.
A/N: Keep your pants on. No one actually dies.
The sound of it woke the whole neighborhood: something, from the sky, molten a little and smelling like so much burnt toast it wasn’t even funny. And right in the backyard, too; as a matter of course Starlet would be the first to creep outside in her pink Pooh jammies and Eeyore slippers and investigate.
The sky was hazy, but the moon was full and bright. Starlet pushed open and eased shut the creaky screen door, and rubbed her eyes and stared at… it.
A huge black cylinder-well, not a cylinder, really, because, crosswise, one half was wider than the other half and jutted out a bit on the sides like a mushroom; call it a mushroomical prism?-with a rod sticking out the side holding a single door-sized aluminum solar panel torn to shreds...
A satellite! Starlet immediately and correctly conjectured.
Yes. That was what was making all the burnt toast smell and fuss now. The thing wasn’t on fire-not quite-but it seemed like it was getting there. It had left a sizeable dirt crater in the yard; blades of grass dozens of feet from the point of impact were singed, making a dull orange circle around the whole mess. The back chain-link fence was dislodged a bit and the circle intruded a bit into the neighbor’s property.
Starlet tip-toed closer; stepped off the cold concrete porch onto the soft night grass; hopped across the line of burning grass into the hopelessly-nothing-but-dirt inner circle; and tread as close as she dared.
No lights went on anywhere, but people one by one were popping out their back doors in bathrobes and pajamas all bleary-eyed and struck dumb at the sight of the… thing. The old man across the street in his yellow gym shorts and stained white t-shirt called back inside for his woman to call the police-some sort of space capsule or something-and she called back out a few moments later that the phone was dead.
Austin McCutchen was only halfway into his pants and three-fourths out the door when Starlet dared to reach out and touch the thing.
“Starly, no! That’s dangerous!” And he hopped outside after her with his hands fastening his belt, but of course now it was too late. Nonetheless he stole across the yard and lifted her up away from the thing. “What are you thinking, young lady? Satellites are…” He set her down on the ground opposite him the satellite and crossed his arms, and hesitated.
And Starlet just looked up at him with frightened green eyes…
“Well,” said Austin, clearing his throat, “I mean, they’re dangerous, you know? They have, like, space radiation on them, and stuff. Oh, now, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re… going to be okay. The authorities will be here any moment, and… no, I promise you won’t be in trouble with them. They’re just worried about our health. They’ll take us to a hospital and-”
Hold on a second.
The thing began to shine and hum a bit; its shell emanated an eerie purplish glow, and…
Plook. Like an antique television turning off, the whole backyard with the two of them in it shrunk down into a little white dot and disappeared, leaving in its wake a rounded dirt pit large enough to be a swimming pool.
Rating: G (Brief usage of the word "pants.")
Challenge: Pomegranate #2 (Quarantine)
Word Count: 555
Tale: Starlet. ( Index)
Summary: A... thing... lands in the McCutchens' backyard.
A/N: Keep your pants on. No one actually dies.
The sound of it woke the whole neighborhood: something, from the sky, molten a little and smelling like so much burnt toast it wasn’t even funny. And right in the backyard, too; as a matter of course Starlet would be the first to creep outside in her pink Pooh jammies and Eeyore slippers and investigate.
The sky was hazy, but the moon was full and bright. Starlet pushed open and eased shut the creaky screen door, and rubbed her eyes and stared at… it.
A huge black cylinder-well, not a cylinder, really, because, crosswise, one half was wider than the other half and jutted out a bit on the sides like a mushroom; call it a mushroomical prism?-with a rod sticking out the side holding a single door-sized aluminum solar panel torn to shreds...
A satellite! Starlet immediately and correctly conjectured.
Yes. That was what was making all the burnt toast smell and fuss now. The thing wasn’t on fire-not quite-but it seemed like it was getting there. It had left a sizeable dirt crater in the yard; blades of grass dozens of feet from the point of impact were singed, making a dull orange circle around the whole mess. The back chain-link fence was dislodged a bit and the circle intruded a bit into the neighbor’s property.
Starlet tip-toed closer; stepped off the cold concrete porch onto the soft night grass; hopped across the line of burning grass into the hopelessly-nothing-but-dirt inner circle; and tread as close as she dared.
No lights went on anywhere, but people one by one were popping out their back doors in bathrobes and pajamas all bleary-eyed and struck dumb at the sight of the… thing. The old man across the street in his yellow gym shorts and stained white t-shirt called back inside for his woman to call the police-some sort of space capsule or something-and she called back out a few moments later that the phone was dead.
Austin McCutchen was only halfway into his pants and three-fourths out the door when Starlet dared to reach out and touch the thing.
“Starly, no! That’s dangerous!” And he hopped outside after her with his hands fastening his belt, but of course now it was too late. Nonetheless he stole across the yard and lifted her up away from the thing. “What are you thinking, young lady? Satellites are…” He set her down on the ground opposite him the satellite and crossed his arms, and hesitated.
And Starlet just looked up at him with frightened green eyes…
“Well,” said Austin, clearing his throat, “I mean, they’re dangerous, you know? They have, like, space radiation on them, and stuff. Oh, now, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re… going to be okay. The authorities will be here any moment, and… no, I promise you won’t be in trouble with them. They’re just worried about our health. They’ll take us to a hospital and-”
Hold on a second.
The thing began to shine and hum a bit; its shell emanated an eerie purplish glow, and…
Plook. Like an antique television turning off, the whole backyard with the two of them in it shrunk down into a little white dot and disappeared, leaving in its wake a rounded dirt pit large enough to be a swimming pool.