Twitch Stream Story: We Wield this Hammer, and We Ban!

We cannot do this thing! The gods beyond will strike us down for it! I, Administrator Rotahn, of the Messager peoples, of the arid message boards, vote no. It cannot be forged!” The men and women flanking the administrator roared their agreement. The Messagers were an excitable people, born as they were from the exclamations of startled and confused gods.

Less than a generation ago, a generation by god standards anyway, they had landed in the darkness between computers like meteors and sprung forth with venom and sword drawn. It was a miracle they’d been convinced to send a representative to the gathering that day. All races of the early digital space needed to be there for the forging to work. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: The Girl in the Bottle

His collection for the day included a purple cowrie the size of his pinky nail, the green tip of a crab’s leg (hopefully, wherever it was, it still lived), a forked shark tooth, and a yellow seaweed float that looked exactly like a lemon. Pembo was disappointed. What good was living in the village next to the world’s most bountiful beach if it couldn’t provide him with amazing specimens every single day of the summer?

It was the beach of Illustraya, the beach of the goddess with the fanciest clothes and the loudest giggles. Its color were spectacular, the stuff of legends. Sometimes even the sand wouldn’t settle for being white; huge streaks would dye themselves green, or red, or silver. Weeds from the other side of the world would wash up, murals painted on their Pembo-sized leaves by the striped merfolk. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Last Spot in the Bouquet

The cruise liner Seraphina had sunk more than a year ago. Its bow stuck out of the slimy sand at the bottom of the ocean like the jagged edge of a can forcibly pried open. Her contents had spilled out like blood, settling into a swath of sand and rock next to her. The bacteria had come. The worms had come. Now the eels were enjoying their day in the artificial reef.

They came by the hundreds to hide and sleep in its shadows, but Seraphina provided them with so much more. The eels hadn’t realized what living in the near black depths had done to their minds. They never had things to focus on, or to cherish, as it all simply floated until it was buried. Now, here was something slow in its burying and colorful and lively in its construction. The eel minds had something to focus on, new things to see beyond their simple lives of swimming. Continue reading