Friday, April 13, 2012

Supernatural Ease

Ron Koppelberger
App 1018 Words
Supernatural Ease
The delicate touch of the endless eternal twilight horizon lit the mid point between dark and light on 531- G, daydreams and cold coffee filled the days with the fruit of long passions and an aching desire to see spring blossoms rather than Krokus bloom and weed. Hunter Nobel stretched his tired legs and stood up from the metal folding chair. He thought of home and the sun, the earths sun, steady, bright and forever. She hadn’t wanted to come to the new west as they called it, she hadn’t wanted him to go to the new frontier either.
She had stood before him, haughty, emerald eyed and lanky with auburn hair, hands on hips with a defiant look on her face. “You don’t need to go to that Damn planet Hunter, we have everything we want here on earth!” she had proclaimed with a gentle nod of her head. The argument had lasted two hours and in the end he had watched her walk out of his life.
The sky bleed spears of crimson stain and to the rear all was pitch black. Gathering his camp he moved toward the distant horizon. The whisper of forgotten ghosts caressed the landscape and ruffled the endless sea of Krokus; the flowers had been the settlers choice and they flourished with a supernatural ease like everything else on 531. In the distance bright stars glimmered and called for the discovery of other worlds, other lands and adventures, adventures in darkness and light, heaven and hell, sought diversities that sang the songs of lonely and populated worlds.
Dandelion wine and the taste of bitter alms whet his thirst, a strange combination but quenching, fulfilling the moment with fact, the fact that he was alive and alone in his day or perhaps night, the defining line had become blurry 531 blurry. The shadows of a faraway mountain range stood behind him calling out to the sea of glass that poured from the sky, the wavering blooms of thousands of Krokus blooms and ragged weed. He had planted Oaks and Maples in the darkness of the plain, always hoping for the best, trees and some semblance of earth; closer to the light side of the division he had planted apple trees and Blackberry bushes. The planet was not quite ready for the populace that longed to populate her shores. The oceans were vast and of both fresh water and salt, salt and tears, fresh water and marine life that resembled earths.
He had seen the seas from the bay window of the ship that had dropped him off. He had thought of emerald eyes and the desire to run, full speed backwards, nevertheless he had pushed. The natural ponds and lakes were in the thousands and the water was clean and unpolluted, filled with what looked like trout and tasted like chicken.
A season of passing marked the trail between the delivery ship and where he had come from. He would plant and prod the soil hoping for new life, the prospect of shadowy dreams bequeathing the future, and that alone made it worth it, the prospect of futures bidden to the heart of 531, for everyone on earth, for the spirits of South, North, East and West, the new west done in flourishes of harvest wont, the spirit and soul of holy blossoms and discovery, lands anew, the tide of tomorrow. A stand of rock lay before him outlined in jagged points and edges. He headed toward the rocks and his footprints left the evidence of his passing between one point and another, between the seas of flowers and a small outcropping of stone with a pond in the center. He made his way to the center of the rocks and opened a small metal container. Eggs, from a variety of fish, with a toss he dumped the contents into the small pond. The trifles of god he thought as he peered into the water after the eggs. The evidence of his purpose was the fireflies that scattered from the surrounding weed, they were big as big as dragonflies and bright like tiny light bulbs. They were a sight to behold and there were thousands of them brought by the settlers before. After a few moments he moved away from the pond and headed further toward the twilight forgetting the dark side of the planet for a moment and knowing that his journey into the light would take months, nevertheless he saw the sun in his dreams and he moved forward toward the rendezvous point.
He watched as shooting stars lit the horizon for a moment, a meteor shower, dozens of fire bright stars in the distance. The day saw the ancient taboo of man and new life rather than the old ways of war and confusion. He moved ahead and the path remained long as he planted and sowed saving the last for the sun. The wheat seed, the promise of what would feed the planet, the wonder of saffron colored fields in endless arrays of freedom and passion, he would save the wheat for the sunshine on 531, making this the place of shelter the conclave of what fate would allow.
As the weeks passed he planted and sowed the terrain with life and promise, the sun grew larger and larger on the horizon as he moved out of the twilight to the eternal day. The sky glowed a hazy blue and gray as he planted the wheat field, and he took care to the soil making sure the toil would be beneficial to the need of a future population, always keeping in mind the fires that lit the earth and her wanting ways. As the tenth week approached he saw a tiny dot in the distance, a transport, a seed ship brought forth by the purveyors of the wheat and the Krokus. He moved forward with the hope and expectation of a fresh spirit, the soul of a new freedom that would bring 531 to its destiny.

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