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vol vi, issue 1 < ToC
History of Our World
by
Christina Sng
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ElementalThe Unquiet
Planet
History of Our World
by
Christina Sng
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Elemental




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The Unquiet
Planet
History of Our World
by
Christina Sng
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Elemental


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The Unquiet
Planet
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Elemental The Unquiet
Planet
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The Unquiet
Planet
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The Unquiet
Planet
History of Our World
 by Christina Sng
History of Our World
 by Christina Sng
“These were the old days, the ancient days before we were allowed to speak, let alone vote or have jobs.

“And yes, of course it hurt and it was hard to eat but it also meant we were spared the torture other women had to endure.

“You see, our powers only extend so far and repeated healing means repeated scarring. And soon, the body believes its job is done.”

Crouching down beside me in the darkened cave, the little girl gently touches the gaping holes that surround my mouth, relics of an ancient era when mouth sewing was tradition.

Outside, the howling wind screams of more bloody murder than I've heard in the past 20,000 years.

I smile, and the holes vanish into my skin.

The little girl looks up into my weary gray eyes and asks, “Do you have to hide your face a lot?”

“Only when I went out into the world,” I reply. “With facial recognition software and cameras everywhere these days, it is hard to hide anymore. Any minute, the Human Census Department could stop me and demand identification.”

“If they catch us, you won’t let them sew my mouth shut or hurt me, will you?” she asks, fear welling up in her eyes.

“They won’t do that in this era, but they will do far worse things to keep us quiet,” I warn. “You see, it is our words that they fear. So they catch us, enslave us, slaughter and incinerate us, because that is the only way they know.”

“What do we know that is so terrible?”

“That it is already over. The damage is done. It is too late for them. But not for us.”

“Is this why we must hide here in the mountains, away from the rest of the world?”

I take her tiny hand and hold it gently closed. When I open it, dandelions drift into the air like fireflies. They attach to the ceiling and begin to grow into glowing amber cocoons. Her light gray eyes widen in awe and she looks at her hands in wonder.

“We hide because we must wait for the end. Humans have set our planet on a runaway weather train and we are about to collide very soon.”

I gesture to the growing cocoons hanging on the ceiling. “We grow and we heal. We will bring life back. And hopefully, next time, the humans will get it right ...”

My daughter reaches for my hand and I hold it. Together we touch the ground and a carpet of soft grass springs forth, covering the entire floor of the cave.

Above us, inside each cocoon, we see the faint shape of a minute foetus, and soon, the pulse of a beating heart.

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Elemental