Defendership

Defendership

TIY STORIES

All of Mrax must pay the price for moving the planet off its orbit.
Half alien Ky, adapting to life on his father’s world, is given two tasks:
The first, to delve into the uncharted history of a previous civilisation and unravel its mysteries.
The impossible second is to hunt down a creature that doesn’t exist, that nobody has ever heard of.
His best friend Fay’s nightmares warn of impending disaster. She has a nasty feeling that the outcome will depend on Ky. Worse still, when the Ancients decree everyone has to learn to smash rocks, she knows their very survival could depend upon it.
In a world of lethal monsters and a chaotic climate, can Ky fly with the squadron and meet those challenges in time to save everyone?

Starter Scenarios

MIDNIGHT SURPRISE

Cold curls frothed around my feet. The rhythm of the sea soothed me. Perhaps I’d imagined him, the same way I could almost see those stallions leaping over the waves.

My set of stark footprints broke the moonlit perfection of the sand. I tiptoed towards a forgotten chair that had been abandoned at the tideline. The water licked beneath it with every wave.

I sat there wondering, waiting as midnight diamonds splashed up my ankles, soaked into my soul. I froze at a crunch, listening to my heart thump in time with the waves. Prickles clawed up my spine.  My mouth dried up. 

SCI-FI

Shuffling sounds fill the dark.  Their coconut curry scent drifts towards me.

‘Wow! You’re infested.’ Ben leans over my shoulder. ‘What are they?’

‘Dunno. I call ‘em gremlins. There were just three yesterday.’

‘Cool.’ Ben lifts one, flailing a long tail, multi-jointed legs. Long strands of fur stick to his jumper.

‘Ow!’ He slaps a hand to his throat. Blood spurts between his fingers.

‘Ben! What-?’ The gremlin he holds fixes me with an intense stare.

‘Feed us.’ Distorted words come from Ben’s mouth, but they’re not his. The tip of the creature’s tail is fixed in his throat. Ben’s eyes roll up in his head. He folds to the step.

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

Max sleeps below ground. His step-dad kicked him out six months ago. He’d been robbed, frozen and dragged unwilling to shelters. Down here, he feels safe.

Sound travels down air vents in the sewers. It’s surprising what you learn. The trouble is, you can never be sure exactly who’s speaking.

The crying changed everything.  Wading in to help someone, who sounded utterly desperate, went against all the new rules he had set for himself…

GHOSTS

The ghosts chase me on every run, through the streets, across the dunes, especially in the cries of the gulls. I never even heard her.

The marram spikes my bare legs as I perch on the dune, huffing in great gusts of salt air. The sun has set, painting the sky in watercolours. I watch the turnstones dance and pick on the shore line, the gulls standing sentry on the tide-ruts. The wind ruffles my hair, cooling my cheeks. I lean back, listening to the rush of the waves, as the pulse in my ears slows.

STORM

Gazing out at the moonlit street I watch the palms whip and the rain chase down the window. My shell wind-singer clatters and moans outside.

The wind is rattling the shutters. What if the tide washes into the street? I’m climbing the stairs for another peek yawning, when a tap comes at the window.

Rain blasts in with him as I open the door. He steps in, standing dripping on the flags, staring at me. He seems to fill the hallway, like the cloud of sea salt.

Memories dance around him, like wraiths. My throat closes. I suck my tongue, soaking him up. The silence stretches as the puddle expands.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

We watched it from our perch on a dune. A vivid orange pilot boat sitting out to sea. A thin white line extended from the back, maybe a rope. We watched a person haul something up, wrestle it on board. The rope vanished. The vessel pulled away, turning a circle.

The craft stopped, turned and repeated the procedure. Another bundle vanished below deck.

‘What are they finding?’

‘Maybe its drugs staked to buoys.’

‘Doesn’t look like lobster pots.’

‘Look it’s off again.’

‘Mmm. Another circle. It’s stopping again.’

‘See that light? Is it a signal?’

‘Don’t look now. There’s a woman behind us, watching.’

CASTLE TRAP

By the time I get to the front courtyard the sounds have vanished. I’m not fooled. My guardians are still squawking. Peering across the overgrown field I can see a car, tipped half into a ditch. One door juts. Great. No getaway for me then. But then, where would I go?

I stand in the shadows, listening. Strangers in my castle. I don’t want them here. They have no escape now either. There’s no phone signal here, not even roaming works, probably because of the surrounding mountains. Biting my lip, I turn at a scrape.

Mrax_Admin

Starter Scenarios

MIDNIGHT SURPRISE

Cold curls frothed around my feet. The rhythm of the sea soothed me. Perhaps I’d imagined him, the same way I could almost see those stallions leaping over the waves.

My set of stark footprints broke the moonlit perfection of the sand. I tiptoed towards a forgotten chair that had been abandoned at the tideline. The water licked beneath it with every wave.

I sat there wondering, waiting as midnight diamonds splashed up my ankles, soaked into my soul. I froze at a crunch, listening to my heart thump in time with the waves. Prickles clawed up my spine.  My mouth dried up. 

SCI-FI

Shuffling sounds fill the dark.  Their coconut curry scent drifts towards me.

‘Wow! You’re infested.’ Ben leans over my shoulder. ‘What are they?’

‘Dunno. I call ‘em gremlins. There were just three yesterday.’

‘Cool.’ Ben lifts one, flailing a long tail, multi-jointed legs. Long strands of fur stick to his jumper.

‘Ow!’ He slaps a hand to his throat. Blood spurts between his fingers.

‘Ben! What-?’ The gremlin he holds fixes me with an intense stare.

‘Feed us.’ Distorted words come from Ben’s mouth, but they’re not his. The tip of the creature’s tail is fixed in his throat. Ben’s eyes roll up in his head. He folds to the step.

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

Max sleeps below ground. His step-dad kicked him out six months ago. He’d been robbed, frozen and dragged unwilling to shelters. Down here, he feels safe.

Sound travels down air vents in the sewers. It’s surprising what you learn. The trouble is, you can never be sure exactly who’s speaking.

The crying changed everything.  Wading in to help someone, who sounded utterly desperate, went against all the new rules he had set for himself…

GHOSTS

The ghosts chase me on every run, through the streets, across the dunes, especially in the cries of the gulls. I never even heard her.

The marram spikes my bare legs as I perch on the dune, huffing in great gusts of salt air. The sun has set, painting the sky in watercolours. I watch the turnstones dance and pick on the shore line, the gulls standing sentry on the tide-ruts. The wind ruffles my hair, cooling my cheeks. I lean back, listening to the rush of the waves, as the pulse in my ears slows.

STORM

Gazing out at the moonlit street I watch the palms whip and the rain chase down the window. My shell wind-singer clatters and moans outside.

The wind is rattling the shutters. What if the tide washes into the street? I’m climbing the stairs for another peek yawning, when a tap comes at the window.

Rain blasts in with him as I open the door. He steps in, standing dripping on the flags, staring at me. He seems to fill the hallway, like the cloud of sea salt.

Memories dance around him, like wraiths. My throat closes. I suck my tongue, soaking him up. The silence stretches as the puddle expands.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

We watched it from our perch on a dune. A vivid orange pilot boat sitting out to sea. A thin white line extended from the back, maybe a rope. We watched a person haul something up, wrestle it on board. The rope vanished. The vessel pulled away, turning a circle.

The craft stopped, turned and repeated the procedure. Another bundle vanished below deck.

‘What are they finding?’

‘Maybe its drugs staked to buoys.’

‘Doesn’t look like lobster pots.’

‘Look it’s off again.’

‘Mmm. Another circle. It’s stopping again.’

‘See that light? Is it a signal?’

‘Don’t look now. There’s a woman behind us, watching.’

CASTLE TRAP

By the time I get to the front courtyard the sounds have vanished. I’m not fooled. My guardians are still squawking. Peering across the overgrown field I can see a car, tipped half into a ditch. One door juts. Great. No getaway for me then. But then, where would I go?

I stand in the shadows, listening. Strangers in my castle. I don’t want them here. They have no escape now either. There’s no phone signal here, not even roaming works, probably because of the surrounding mountains. Biting my lip, I turn at a scrape.