Aligned

Praise for Aligned: An Immortal Essence Short Story:

“A fantastic short story, where the characters seem to jump off the page. Ms. Workman captivated me.”
Jek
Jamison

“I’m so glad there’s a full length novel that follows this short story. I loved this!”
Heartsong
reviews.

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Additional Works by
RaShelle
Workman

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Table of Contents

In The Beginning
…

I am someone.

But, I have no idea who.

There is a planet called Earth, with one sun and one moon. That isn’t where I live. How am I sure?
Two
suns and
two
moons rotate across my sky.

The name of this planet is Kelari.

My home is in a cave at the base of a mountain peak. From its entrance I can peer further down the mountain, over the tops of lush green trees, and dense foliage, all the way to the cerulean waters o
f the sea. It’s always warm
, and humid.
Sometimes stiflingly so.

On Earth, I know there are forests, deserts, high mountains and deep bodies of water. There are animals, insects, and birds. The name of every species, every creature, is somehow known to me, as is all of Earths’ history. Every color, every shade, every hue—from robin’s egg blue to periwinkle—can be pulled from my mind. How I know these things, where I was born, and who my parents are, remain unknown.

I’ve never seen anyone on this planet similar to me, but I’d recognize a human if I saw one. My memories are chock-full of them. I think I am one. Or at least I used to be.

When it comes to me, this is what I know for sure: I look like a human male. When I first arrived, I grew a lot. My face and body changed almost daily. So did my skin, which started out
amber
brown, like maple syrup. Currently, it’s closer to cinnamon, probably from the suns. My eyes are spring grass green. The color of my blood was a reddish-orange. Now, no matter how hard I try, the surface of my skin can’t be punctured. I don’t even know my name.

My first day here I opened my eyes, and screamed like a girl (no offence to girls, it’s just I’m a guy). The reason
is
a gigantic black cat-looking thing had her face right in front of mine. She licked me with a large sand-papery tongue. I hate to admit to another girly-scream as I rose on my elbows and tried to back away. She roared, shaking her long mane. Then I cried. She roared again. I cried some more (this is embarrassingly sad, but give me a break; I was only seven or eight).

Her voice entered my mind.
Hush, child. Stop making
all that
racket. My head is going to burst.

I cried louder. She snorted, turned away and lay down at the entrance of our cave.  Enormous black wings pounded the air as she settled in. Her giant body blocked the entrance, and my only escape. Whimpering, I huddled against a wall.

Much later, my curiosity got the better of me, especially since she hadn’t made a move to eat me.
At least not yet.
I decided to try and reason with her.  “Hey! Hey, you.”

She turned around and her voice spoke inside my head again.
Can you understand my thoughts?

I nodded. “I think so.”

She shook her head.
Use your thoughts so I can comprehend what you’re saying. Your verbal noises are incredibly grating.

Concentrating, I asked,
Are
. . . you going to eat me?
”

No, young one.
My name is
Mithrith
. I am an irrihunter. And you are? 

I thought and thought, realizing I must have been given a name, but I couldn’t remember.
I don’t know.
I stood and took tentative steps toward her. She was massive.
All black with short fur, the same as a panthers.
Face like a saber-toothed tiger.
The ears, mane and tail of a horse.
And then there were her wings. Not the same as a bird’s, but a bat.
You sort of remind me of a dragon
.

She roared.
Ever met a dragon? That is insulting. Take it back.

Sorry.
I stepped away
, wary, but asked,
You
met a dragon?
 

Once. She looked nothing like me.

Sorry,
I repeated, disregarding my urge to bombard her with further dragon questions.
So, um, where are we? How did I get here?

This planet is called Kelari. You were dropped in front of my cave by a great bird. He spoke to me in my own language and asked me to watch over you. A good thing he said something, otherwise you’d be digesting in my stomach.

I fled to my corner (a mighty warrior).

She made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like laughter.
Come back. Don’t be silly, child.
I won’t eat you
,
you’re too small
. Your tiny carcass would get stuck in my teeth.

Promise?
I asked, though I knew she wouldn’t.

Promise
.
Now . . .
She lay down and began licking one of her paws, her midnight-blue eyes focused on me, thoughtful.
What shall I call you?
Mmmmmm
.
She closed her eyes and I thought she’d drifted to sleep. I’d about decided to do the same when she said,
Sticks.

Sticks? Why sticks?
Braver, I reached up to touch the side of her face. She was soft as chinchilla fur.

Because child, you’re so small I could use you to pick my teeth.

From then on, we were
inseparable,
Mithrith
and I. She’d explained she was the last of her kind, so I did my best to keep her from getting lonely. She took care of me; taught me her language, and told me about her life (
Mithrith
was old). She even let me fly with her a few times so I could search for others. She said she’d never seen creatures that resembled me. Still, she helped me explore.

It’s been seven hundred and eighty-seven days since
Mithrith
died. I burned her remains, as she requested. The fire devoured her body. Pain consumed my heart. I miss her terribly. No, “miss” isn’t fitting. When she died, a part of me died with her. The ache has lessened some since my visions of a girl.

The
girl.

When I’m awake, she’s there, a comforting phantom. Her presence is stronger while I sleep though. I don’t know who she is or how my mind has imagined her. But I’m grateful. I’d be lost to loneliness without my dreams. The girl has become the thread that holds my life together.

Her body is fashioned after a human’s (probably because that’s all I know). Her hair is downy white. Sometimes she wears it in a long braid, the blunt ends reaching her waist. Other times her hair isn’t confined, but flowing, and it shines like a thousand stars. Her skin is metallic white, and smooth as glass. And her eyes, by the Heaven’s, each a blazing silver flame.

She is the light to my dark. When our fingers entwine, everything is exactly right. A part of me doubts she’s real, but my heart, my soul, tells me otherwise. So I hang on.

Waiting . . .

I don’t know what else to do.

***

Near my cave is a pool of fresh water. It’s part of a river that rushes down the mountain and over a cliff, into the sea. I’ve been here almost eight years and a trail has been worn through the lush vegetation to the pool. A canopy of branches, heavy with shiny leaves and wild orchid
flowers dangle over the water. I use the pool for a variety of purposes. One of which is bathing.  And that’s what I’m doing when I see
the girl
, the one from my visions.

One second I’m washing important guy parts, scrubbing
good
, and thinking about her. The next I hear a branch snap, so I whip around, prepared to wrestle a creature I’ve name Fluffy (a cross between an irritated grizzly-bear and a gray elephant—that’s Fluffy—and he thinks this pool is his) and the next
she’s
there. Only not as a ghostly apparition, but solid.