Hello Friends,
When I envisioned this newsletter, I conceived of real science news being a source for fiction ideas. Prompts, so to speak. Our universe is filled with such craziness that it has continually served as my inspiration.
Also, since I tend towards a more terse writing style, I really enjoy the short-short story form. So what follows is just that—a short-short inspired by a science article I recently stubbled upon.
Please feel free to comment with other short works of your own.
I hope you enjoy.
Reap What is Sown
by David Caiati
“It might seem a little too ‘sci-fi’ to be true, but the research is in. Plants know when they’re being eaten, and they don’t like it.”
from New Study: Plants Know When They Are Being Eaten
Splinter hung on to God's Thumb like a snot ball. He cursed his ironic luck. Stuck to the heavenly-named natural monument when he had come to the planet to do what amounted to a petty crime—steal a third-level lord's scepter.
How was he to know the damn stick was alive?
The harvest gala spread jubilantly through the bountiful orchard, a perfect cover to slip in and out. His ship was perched in orbit, waiting for him to recall for his departure.
When Splinter spied the scepter, gnarled and knotted, resting unassumingly against the lord's throne, he didn't understand why it would provide such a hefty payday. But, then, Splinter asked few questions.
During a crescendo in the music, he slinked up and grabbed it. The hapless thief had barely taken a step away when the cursed staff began shrieking. Guards appeared so quickly, one would have thought it was a trap.
The scepter's screams grew—as if being strapped to a lathe and carved into a toothpick. It bit Splinter’s hand. Drew blood, he was sure.
He didn't have time to inspect the damage. Soldiers closed in. All the revelers stopped dancing and searched for the source of the commotion.
With little left to do, he threw the staff into the gawking crowd. Payday be damned. The scepter landed on its head, apparently being knocked out cold.
At least it stopped squealing.
Splinter dropped to the floor and tried to scramble away. That's when he saw them. The vines snaking around the merrymakers' feet like they had been shot out of a holiday confetti toy.
They were on him before the soldiers. Lifting him up, they carried him off, out into the jungle canopy, and across the country-side.
The hapless thief was handed off from one plant to another until he was catapulted into the sky. Before he could deploy his soar kit to soften his landing, Splinter hit the surface of an enormous rain basin and skipped like a stone over the expanse.
He didn't slow down until he reached the far sandy shore and log-rolled in the dust leading up to the cliff.
Fortunately, he was able to deploy his wrist spike in time. The sharp hook grabbed the jutting rock face and held fast.
Dangling high above a valley, exposed and out of breath, he saw the vines below pulsing, using each other for leverage, and working their way up to him like a giant fly trap.
"They look hungry!" he moaned, as he tried to work his body up towards his cuff to activate the homing signal on his ship.
Hopefully, it would get to him before the vines did.