Flash Fiction Fridays #12 Video/text

#Singularity #AlternateWorlds #Dimensionality

This Friday I present three flash fictions. Two of them are by a guest, one Aria Wolfram or Lacy Musketeer. The third is my own.

Parting by Aria Wolfram: Nisean lore has always hinged around what disaster befell the original inhabitants of the country in the universe I first entered Nisa from, and long been tied into alternate realities and timelines. In this tale we learn one version of how Ar'ia first enters one of several concurrent versions of Nisa wherein anthro versions of Raikou and Horin rule Ibexia (and adopt her in adulthood) and what that entry looked like from the point of view of her father when she enters the singularity. Or perhaps it could be said the spirits of those who would take physical incarnation to later be the duo. There are alternate theories one could spin from this as well.

This is Nisa by Aria Wolfram: I also recommend listening to the original version of the tale as recorded for the MLP world version that she wrote, as recorded by Illya Leonov. She agreed to let me record and share her tale providing that I utilize the version for the currently enacted timeline wherein the denizens tend toward anthro and less toward the MLP based version Nisa was originally held to based on the universe rp was at the time done within (back when it interacted with Roanoak before the Changeling massacre and later the Canterlot bombing when that timeline was communally abandoned and "stored").

For posterity, Illya Leonov's recording of the first version: http://www.soundcloud.com/illya-leonov

The Seer by Teresa Garcia: A Seer of indeterminate age attempts to share what is most dear and wonderous with you. But what is your reaction to her world?

Full Podcast content


Podcasts.com: http://www.podcasts.com/mythical-minstrelsy-flash-fiction-fridays-and-ames-bookshelf-1a06920c4 

iTunes: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mythical-minstrelsy-and-flash-fiction-fridays/id1461538463 

Google Play: https://playmusic.app.goo.gl/?ibi=com.google.PlayMusic&isi=691797987&ius=googleplaymusic&apn=com.google.android.music&link=https://play.google.com/music/m/Iregmi7sag7o3fg6p3e32k5ghwq?t%3DMythical_Minstrelsy_and_Flash_Fiction_Fridays%26pcampaignid%3DMKT-na-all-co-pr-mu-pod-16 

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1vLsYYcHOkDdasTFvqe9Ph 

Flash Fiction Only Pods

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/teresa-garcia-34 


By Lacy Musketeer or Aria Wolfram

They ran. The Qwhilla couple, each holding one of their very young offspring, ran. Dodging trees, jumping over roots, crashing through underbrush, the pair were tiring. The babes in their arms cooed with delight; they didn’t understand there was danger. The singularity was behind them, and with increasing speed, it was growing nearer. A beating of wings grew close. Hippogryffs! If the family could get away from the twisting vines and canopy of the jungle, the hippogriffs could reach and rescue them! The parents redoubled their efforts. They could finally see through the leaves. The jungle gave one final effort to stop them: the father Qwhilla found a root that seemed to suddenly appear, and he stumbled. Having his daughter in his arms, he managed to avoid falling, but then felt a tug on his long tail. He turned to see his tail enter the singularity. He cried out then stumbled as his tail was halfway swallowed now. He heard a crash as his hippogriff broke through the trees. Strong talonned feet closed around his upper arms and lifted him skyward. His tail was stretched straight as the energy from the singularity refused to release him. As he struggled, his daughter fell from his arms, to be swallowed by the misty, wavy rift before she even hit the ground. He screamed. The hippogriff screeched. He gazed into the anomaly, tears welling in his eyes. Through the watery twisting surface, he saw two unknown figures, one a tall kirin, the other an antelope of some sort,  reach out their arms to catch the falling babe. Half his tail fell to the ground on the other side. His hippogriff flew to join its mate.

This is Nisa (current revision for the Dreaming Twilight)

 By Lacy Musketeer or Aria Wolfram 

Something went wrong. 

On that November day in the year 2009, something went horribly wrong. 

Perhaps it was a loose wire, a snapped bolt, a mistyped command in the software code, or perhaps an errant strand of dark matter...no one knows. 

All those who witnessed it are long gone.

The event horizon itself and the ensuing quantum ripple were significant enough to attract the attentions of many exo-beings. 

These beings sent surveyors to explore the ruined land. They recorded for posterity what they could, gleaning information from artifacts as well as bits of machinery and technology. The civilization that existed prior to this disaster appeared to be rather intelligent and ambitious, yet very young. Perhaps the species as a whole had neither been ready nor capable of fully understanding the finer mechanics of the universe. Some theorize the original species had inadvertently created a quantum loop in which they had become trapped, never able to glimpse the full effect of their endeavours, but yet continuing to exist somewhere in space-time. This is the kindest, most hopeful, and most generally accepted theory. 

Over the decades, centuries (or millennia...no one knows for sure),  all things were reclaimed by the natural cycles of the land. The machinery fell into misuse, and foliage overtook it, obscuring it from immediate view. There is evidence that this technology attained sentience at some point. Flora and fauna returned, grew, reproduced. The land was once again in the care of its rightful keepers – the animals and plants.

The exo-species have since moved on to observe other happenings, leaving this land to evolve and grow on its own. Occasionally, the native animals can be seen. These animals retain their natural forms, as their individual species were before the collider was activated. Most have extranatural qualities, being born, reared and inundated in magics of this land. Inversely, some creatures appeared to have been created from forces unknown, perhaps engineered by the exo-species, or perhaps engineered by the long gone technology. The individuals who evolved in this manner have designated themselves as the Protectors, the Keepers, or the Artists. These individuals are responsible for maintaining the land. They have been known to manipulate the land’s inherent energies and magics, creating new and wondrous plants, atmospheric effects, and extranatural phenomena. It is they who keep this land safe and alive.

Denizens of this land strive to exist in peace and contentment with their fellows; this land is far too precious to its caretakers to allow animosity and strife.

As more time passed, brightly coloured equines began to appear. As there is no record of them having evolved in this land, a theory is that these equines found this land and began exploring. They were quite possibly lured here by the energies and magics, traveling through portals whose manner and whereabouts are lost in the annals of time. Perhaps they were brought here by some unknown and incomprehensible force. These equines, who refer to themselves as simply “Ponies”, come here, some seeking solace, some solitude, some to explore and learn. Some Ponies and other Beings have declared this land their home. 

On occasion, explorers can find artifacts from the First Beings here.  Adventurers may come across Spirits. Some say the Spirits are the First Beings, some argue otherwise. It is hard to know for sure since there is no one from before Them to say to those younger races. Some are two legged, others four legged, and even those with no legs at all. The Spirits are random in occurrence, some lay dormant while others are active. Some are light and warm, some dark and sinister. However different the individual Spirits are, each is linked to a specific type of Energy in the Balance of Things. The Spirits whisper to those willing to listen. They whisper tales of old days, of the First Ones, of hopes and dreams. They have been known to offer nearby Beings gifts.

The land’s Keepers found themselves growing very fond of the Ones. So, fond, in fact, that they named this land Nisa: Land of the Beautiful Ones.

Everypony is welcome in Nisa, all the Keepers ask is that each Pony, Mythic, Aquatic, Anthro, Human, each animal, each individual respect each other, respect themselves, be nice, and please keep everything within Nisa’s G rating.

Each is free to live his or her own life, according to his or her wishes and desires. Each is likewise free to follow this land’s history and create his or her own life accordingly. 

May you have a long and fulfilling journey.

On that day in November of 2009, something went horribly right.


Content copyright 2013 Lacy Musketeer/A. Waid

All references to MLP copyright their respective creators. It must be noted that sentient equines are not solely tied to MLP but are also found in other series and have been a fixture of sci fi and fantasy for a long time.

The Seer

By Teresa Garcia

Listen. Do you hear it? Do you hear the creak of unseen bones shifting just beyond the veil of sight? Breathe deeply. Can you smell it? Beyond the richness of the forest loam and greenness of the stream enriched grass. The wild richness surely must catch your nostrils. It can’t be me alone smelling him.

Did you hear his step? The crack of branch underfoot resounding in cathedral stillness but for these desperate awed whispers? I’m not crazy! I can’t be. I’ve seen too much while the stars whirl and the aurora dances in the sky.

You don’t see that either? Of course it comes when the snow is gone! The gates between the realms open more than once a year. They come and go as they please. It is we that are bound and blind.

You’ve frightened him away, foolish child. He scented your fear. Now it will be long to draw him back so that you can see him too.

Stop laughing. I’m not crazy.

You’ll bring something else if you insist on mocking. Neither of us wants to deal with what feeds on that. There are too many of those to list. The boggart, the burabura, those lost souls left wandering after long ago battles. Who knows what could come in this age of cultural intermingling and spirits traveling country to country after fleeing families?

I did not always see him. I still don’t know why he chose me out of all the other women better appointed. Sometimes he whispers though and shows me things. I want you to know him too.

I don’t want to be alone in seeing him, in seeing them.

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