At a Snail’s Pace

Arriving to Arratha, City of Science – Michal Matczak

The University had stood for an age, harvesting the finest minds of an entire system, spreading slowly across the skies, a sandstone and ivy cancer, blotting out the sun.

For those of us living in its shadow, it was a reminder of what we could never have, and of the privileges of the ivory tower. Our women stolen, as well as our children – and we were supposed to thank them! I always listened to my mother: Never talk to strangers. We ran, and hid in the mountains.

Yet still they came.

The air-bladders on the ships inflated, at a snail’s pace.

Surely they would discover us. Surely.

They didn’t – and we struck, our flotilla silently approaching, the setting sun at our backs and revenge before us.

Stone doesn’t burn.

But books sure do.

Written using BeKindRewrite’s prompt:

Talk to strangers.

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5 thoughts on “At a Snail’s Pace

  1. After drooling over the image for a few seconds, I proceeded to read. My exact word was “woooooah” with a little vibratto on the ‘o’. Something about that idea of burning books, from the perspective of the book burners. You made me see both sides. I’d like to know more about these people.

  2. elmowrites says:

    There is clearly so much to this story that we don’t see. I love how you take an unusual POV and make it make sense. This would make a fantastic premise for a longer story

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