Prose and Prosody

A serial fiction archive by Chris Rodriguez.

Genera, ph. I-XX

[LOE] #01 The first 20 lines of Genera tell the story of the first of the Gods’ arrival. 268 Words, ~1:21 on average Published on 2015-04-25 15:55:53 -0400

It started when we found ourselves without reason to keep alive
Without a purpose driving us to live, and grow, and dream, and thrive
Our work was hard, our lives too long, our memories would fade one day
So why should we betake to stress, when we do some other way?

We said there must be an answer, and so we stopped to look for one.
We saw the trees, we saw the keys, we saw the dancing of our suns,
and one forgotten person thought, perhaps the truth is just out there,
beyond our reach, between the suns, and hanging in the bethinned air.

Ideas spread, and always do, until there are none ignorant,
It was not long before our first  sunlight missive was made and sent.
The silence grew, we held our tongues, until we heard no one reply
and so we sent the next and next missives into our fated sky.

We were on ten, and knowing so, were thinking that we were alone,
no one was there, to give us hope, nor even just to watch us moan.
We sent our tenth, and shut it down, our pity mounting up on high
when then we heard a fateful sound, echo from the bright grey sky.

For but a moment, we were scared: Had we offended our new lords?
They had with them such great cannons, matched only by their fiery swords.
We sent our best to talk with them, they came back wearing metal hair,
But with a message ringing forth: Our lords would take us in their care.