New Stories brewing in my brain juice...

Excerpt from The Black Line


I entered the marketplace. It was bright and loud. It stank of sweat, sizzling meats, spices and piss. I loved the market. Here it was easy to blend in, become a shadow amongst the drunks, whores, rats and other filth that plagued this place. I pushed through the writhing mass of screaming, fighting, retching and laughing flesh towards the Hub, one of the more reputable watering holes in the market. More reputable meaning you were less likely to slip in someone's piss or vomit and break your neck while trying to find a table.
I was just about to enter the sliding doors when I felt someone grab my arm. I looked down at the hand and saw those familiar inky lines traced under the skin. My eyes drifted up to the face. It was a woman maybe in her twenties. I couldn't tell with all the filth and grime that covered her skin. At least her eyes were human, unlike mine. It didn't seem to matter. She was still a rat like me.
"Kolat," she whispered. This wasn't the first time I heard this word. She was calling me brother, in my father's language. There were many other half-bloods like me. Some tried their hardest to blend into society. The closest they got to that was becoming concubines to the rich, bodyguards or hired assassins. There were others attempting to band together and form their own colony. Ula Maq, The Dreamers. Then there was the underground resistance. I didn't know too much about them, except they called themselves, Ula Sad, The Others. We all had one thing in common. We were outcast. I wanted to push her onto the ground and run away, but I remained as still as a statue. Her black fingernails were digging into my arm. I could actually feel them on my skin. She definitely inherited the strength of the Thax. As I felt her nails piercing my skin, I thought of how strong a full-blooded Thax would be. I guess I would never know since they were driven away for good over a decade ago. All that was left behind were their bastard freak children, us. Remnants of a time best forgotten, but humans never forget. They recycle. Recycle their plastics and metals, their emotions and opinions. They now build walls, fences, forcefields to keep the others out. Shielding themselves from anyone that wasn't human, everything alien. It isn't a surprising notion. It was only since the arrival of the Thax that humans started treating humans as...humans. I looked back into the woman's eyes. They were green. I took her hand and grabbed it.
"I'm not your kolat," I said and gently pushed her away.
"You are my kolat whether you like it or not," she said, clawing at my cloak as I turned away. "They are watching you, waiting for you to take a wrong turn...waiting to send you to the line." I slowly turned and faced her again. The Black Line was the biggest wall the humans had built to this day. It was a huge forcefield that encircled the entire galaxy. "They want to quietly get rid of us. They are sick of being reminded of the past and it is written on our skin." She traced her fingers along her face. Tears were washing away the dirt, but they couldn't wash away those black veins, the dirt in our blood.
"We are protected by the law," I said.
"Oh and people never break laws," she said, running her fingers through her matted hair. She's just a crazy rat. I kept telling myself. I needed to focus on my own problems. "Laws are just words and words can be changed. You must join us now."
"Join who? Ula Maq? Ula Sad?" I shook my head. "I would've signed up long ago if I gave a shit."
"Not dreamers or others," she said and pulled me closer. "Ula Ket." She was breathing erratically, more tears forming in her eyes. I saw myself staring back at me in those two small pools of murky green. I searched my mind for the meaning of that word. I yanked my cloak from her grasp and backed away. I scanned my member chip against the side panel and the sliding door screeched open behind me.
"I am your mem!" Her screaming filled my ears. Mem, sister. "We will break through the line and find our true ket!" The doors slid shut. The girl slammed her palm against the plastic. "Ula Ket!" On her palm, there was a huge purple scar, a symbol of some kind. I burned it into my mind, just as it was burned onto her skin and turned away.


Excerpt from Mouse

He had been watching the girl for over a week now. Mouse, the old man thought, for she was quiet as one as she slipped in and out of abandoned buildings foraging for scraps of food and supplies. He guessed she was in her early teens, but he wondered how well she could communicate.
Most children he encountered scattered away like vermin when he came near and the ones that didn't, grunted and clawed at him with their small, scabbed hands. For food and water, he guessed. He didn't blame them. This was the only world they had known. How they survived this long was a mystery. They were far more resilient than he could've ever imagined. For the very few who remembered their lives before the scourge, this new life was unbearable, impossible to make peace with. Those that could not kill another, killed themselves, but the children were different.
His attention went back to the girl. He knelt behind a small brick wall to hide. He didn’t want his presence known, not yet. She peered out a doorway and glanced around warily. She swept like a shadow down the street, pausing only once to glance at her reflection in a shop’s broken window. I wonder if she has a name.
He took notice, not for the first time at what she had slung across her back. It was a small ukulele case. At first he thought she used it primarily to hold supplies or food, but he was wrong. One night as he was writing in his journal, he heard music. The instrument was horribly out of tune and missing a string, yet she pressed her small fingers onto the strings and played. As she played, she hummed tunelessly along. The man felt a tear fall and melt away into his beard. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in years. That’s when he knew she was the one.