Seed

1,588 words - teen sci-fi

I leaped from the space pod right before it crashed, tumbling as I hit the ground. Gravel scraped my palms and tore at my pants. The pod was a wreck. Coming into earth’s atmosphere had been harder than expected. It was never going to fly again. But that didn’t matter. This was a one-way trip for me. 

I hadn’t bothered with a helmet and breathing was laborious. There was enough oxygen, but sucking in the dirty air made my lungs ache. When I looked up, the sky was a murky red at the edges fading to a smoky black top. Crags of volcano tops ripped up the skyline. I knew it was bad before I came. Everyone knew. But seeing it for myself was so much worse.

I got to me feet as the earth shifted under me, throwing me back onto my side, spilling my dozens of cornrow braids onto the ground around me.  

Pressing a hand to the capsule hanging around my neck, I felt a warm pulse against my palm. The seed was still safe.

Rolling onto my back, I looked straight up. Somewhere up there, there was a sun, dull and red, ready to blink out of existence. But the volcano ash was too thick to make it out. I sat up and looked around, more wary about getting to my feet this time. The gravel was the same deep brown as my skin, like people had crumbled to pieces here, their bodies turned to dust and rock. Something cracked behind me and I jumped up.

The ground was breaking open, a deep fissure splitting the earth like a crooked mouth. The ground popped and crackled under my feet, ready to swallow me up. I ran.

The seed was burning inside the capsule, hot and alive. I needed to plant it before it was too late, but where? The ground was black and broken. The volcanoes were angry or dead. The sun was hidden. The whole earth was decaying. The seed didn’t stand a chance on this planet.

The further I ran, sweat dripping off my nose and chin, the more I realized how pointless this was. I came here to save this seed, to try and save humanity, but all that was here for us was death. I knew it was a suicide mission, but I didn’t realize it would be a genocide mission too.

I scrambled up the side of a volcano, slipping on loose stones like broken glass. The peak of the volcano was smoking like a newly blown out candle. Steadying myself, I looked around for something, but I didn’t know what I was looking for anymore. Green was an impossible color here.

There was only black and that one belt of red circling me on the horizon, dividing the black in two. As I watched, even the red line of light was dimming, fading away until it was a smudge. And then a memory. Blackness engulfed me.

Wind hit, cold and sharp, snatching the sweat off my skin. I huddled down on the side of the volcano, wrapping myself together for warmth.

The darkness was so thick it pressed my eyeballs back into my skull.

The sun was gone.

I knew it like I knew I was breathing.

The sun was gone.

The

Sun

Was

Gone.

I was too late.

There could be no life without a sun.

The volcano I was huddled against flared, throwing orange light and a blast of heat over everything. I slipped, lost my balance, and tumbled down the side of the volcano. The sharp rocks stabbed at me until I slid to a stop at the bottom.

I pulled my arm out from under me and untangled my legs. My hand went to the capsule around my neck. It was safe. My clothes were shredded though. I could feel the wind whipping the torn edges. My shoulder and leg were both bleeding. It was too dark to see, but I could feel my limbs slippery with blood.

I should not have come.

I pictured this planet, floating through space next to a smoldering rock that used to glow. What did a sun look like when it was gone? No one would ever know.

I blinked, but the darkness didn’t lift.

Stretching out my legs, I rested back on my hands, wincing, and looked straight up at where the stars were, if only I could see them. I tugged the capsule off from around my neck.

“There’s no place for you, little seed,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. All you need is one little bit of life to live off of, but there is no life here.”

I pictured each volcano going out, turning cold, the lava hardening. I would be long dead before the last of them. If only they were truly alive. Then I would climb to the top and throw the seed in. But I knew it would be a waste.

I opened the capsule and light came out as the glowing seed tumbled into my palm. It was like a star, right there in my hand, the only one I could see.

This one seed contained the fate of billions of people. How tragic that neither it nor I would ever grow up to become what we could have been. We would be the last two things to die on this planet.

“Oh,” I said, as a realization came to me. “I am alive. I am the life I came here looking for.” It hadn’t been a waste coming here.

I scraped at the ground with one hand, pulling up chunks of rock and earth. Then I dropped the single speck of light into the shallow hole. It shined up at me, bright and warm. I buried it and the world went dark. But not forever.

I let the blood from my arm and leg drip onto the buried seed, like water for a plant. But this was no mere vegetation I was growing. The blood was dripping too slowly, so I took a sharp rock, sucked in my breath, and pressed the pointed edge into the wound on my leg, ripping it wider.

I gasped at the pain, but the blood came freely now, swift and thick. I let it run.

I had known I was coming here to die. This was the best death I could have imagined for myself.

I hoped the seed would grow quickly. I hoped I wasn’t too late. I hoped there were people still alive, still waiting for the light to come back.

I felt my consciousness draining away with the blood. I fell to my side and curled around the hole I’d dug, my braids splayed on the ground around my head.

And I waited to die.

The place where I’d planted the seed began to glow. And then one tiny little tendril of light poked out of the ground like a plant sprout. Right in front of me, it began to grow. I watched leaves divide from the stem, the tips of them reaching higher and higher like a plant looking for sunshine. It pulled itself up tall as branches split off and more leaves budded. I flopped onto my back to watch it fill out above me, this tree of bright light. The trunk thickened, the branches lengthened, the leaves multiplied. It was beautiful and glorious.

The tree at last settled into itself, the whole process happening without a sound. And then fruit began to form, blossoming from the branches, filling out full and round, making the branches bend beneath their weight.

Right above me, a branch tipped down, a single piece of fruit at its tip. I reached up, and the fruit fell into my hand. It was hot and heavy, and when I bit into it, the skin broke under my teeth spilling juice down my chin and delicious sweet warmth into my mouth. I had never tasted anything so delicious.

I could feel the warmth spreading from my stomach down through my limbs. And then, in my center, where my shirt is torn to expose my stomach, I began to glow.

Tendrils of bright white light emerged on my skin, curling and growing, making a pattern of curves across my stomach. The light kept growing, curling across my chest, wrapping down my arms, and spilling down my legs. Vines of light curl around wrists and ankles. As I watched, the wounds on my arm and leg began to close up, the skin healing without a scar. My veins, empty of blood, filled with light. Small leaves and flowers blossomed in the design on my skin like they had been inked on in shining white. A rose bloomed on my palm as vines curled around each finger and toe. I could feel the light trickling up my cheeks and across the back of my neck.

I sat up, turning my hands over and over, stretching out my legs, admiring the shimmering beauty.

I could feel heat intensifying across my back, warm and comforting. When I turned my head, I saw that two enormous fiery wings had grown from the light, stretching out from my shoulders. I furled them open and felt a rush of glory at their size and majesty.

I didn’t come here to die.

I came here to live.

The trees roots began shooting out across the ground like tongues of fire, turning the black earth to burning gold.

The next sun was coming.

photo by steve p2008