Half a Haibun 5

half a haibun 5 on the verge collaboration haibun with Kerfe Roig

We send shadows through the air.

We look to the sky for the whispers of birds.

Are we on the verge of remembering feathers?

a flight of fancy

serendipity’s green light

d n a in dance

fibonacci hearts beat one…

one, two- counting yellow bricks

Collage from junk mail and poetic prose by Kerfe Roig
On the Verge. Junk mail art by Kerfe Roig

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Harvest Time

 

Photo of irrigated wheat field in Zambia used as a prompt for a micro fiction story
Irrigated Wheat Field, Wikimedia Commons

A gust of wind against sheathed blades of wheat conducted an orchestra of swooshes and scratches, accompanied by booms of pollen grains crashing as they set sail to germinate or wreak havoc with hay-feverish humans. Like listening to a drum beat from within its hide and metal enclosure, my senses were overstimulated, sound compounded by sight and smell, with the distinct musk of earth and vivid shades of greens, browns and blues swathing field and sky, cognition that made me certain I was me.

SWOOSH, SCRATCH, BOOM, the blades continued to sway. When the tip of one folded back on itself, a lifetime of recognition and knowing came to me. My consciousness had transmigrated.

I was Wheat Leaf.

I held on to my conviction of the worthiness of my sacrifice, to rescue humanity via doses of glutinous products fortified with cognizance, but I had no idea I’d feel and know. As the imposing harvester cut its destructive path on approach, I felt a terror I’d not known in my previous incarnation. It was then I understood the movement of the other blades for what they were, and joined in their screams, a vain attempt to alter our collective fate.

 

199 words inspired by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge #7 . This is a follow on from my most recent flash fiction story featuring Dr Woodrow. Critical feedback from Jane or other readers most welcome and appreciated.

Soul Food

Photo of three illuminated tents in a backdrop of starry night sky used as a micro fiction writing prompt
Photo by Maher El Aridi

It had to be timed perfectly; the final breath of a soul feeder coinciding with the first light of day. Accelerated transmission of human collective consciousness via wheat fields, using the sun’s rays as a carrier, letting photosynthesis do the rest. Dr Woodrow believed in his technique and the benefits to what remained of the human race, and so had no qualms being among the first of three to go, each lying in their tents till curtain call.

 

A range of inspirations here for what will be a multi-part story- in part from watching A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Sonya’s Three Line Tales Week Twenty Six which provides the intriguing photograph, and Jane Dougherty’s latest microfiction challenge, but that will be a separate post. Woodrow has featured in a couple of my stories previously and makes a welcome return here as my sci-fi muse.