Spritelings
A Chance Encounter…
--RC Militello
A Chance Encounter…
--RC Militello
Dr. Bellinger sighed as a slow
trickle of sweat dripped into his right eye.
It was going to be a long day. He
loved his job, but sometimes it was in hot, uncomfortable regions of the world. In this case, he was following up on a report
of a possible new moss that was located near a waterfall in Chile.
“Hello,”
he said. Finally, he was getting close
as he moved toward the pool. As always
his discomfort faded with the realization of a new discovery—this is what made
him tick. Bellinger waded ankle high
into the water and began to turn over the protruding rocks, his breath labored
as the damp heat took its toll.
That
was when he saw it. A brief flash,
movement on the edge of his peripheral vision so rapid that he thought it was
his imagination. He wiped his eyes
again, the sound of his laugh dying underneath the massive roar of the
waterfall.
“I must
be losing it,” he said. Bellinger sat
down on a large rock and began to scrape samples into plastic containers. For an hour he labored, but knowing he
needed time to get back to base camp, he started packing up. Quickly he radioed the rest of his team; they
too, were already headed back to their tents after a long, difficult day.
As
Bellinger gathered his pack, he saw it again.
In the dim light, the creature wiggled its ears and pulled them straight
back. He wasn’t sure, but he believed
the creature was staring at him.
The
doctor moved carefully toward it, but in a white flash, the little thing darted
under the waterfall.
Science
took over then, and Bellinger followed in, only to be confronted by a feeling
of disorientation, like he was being pulled through a garden hose.
He
awoke, soaking wet and dizzy. It was
dark, but the darkness had a green tinge to it—almost phosphorescent. A feeling of dread crept over the doctor as
realization set in.
He was
looking into the sky—a clear sky, only to discover that there was no moon.
Bellinger
feinted.
A New World…
He wanted to open his eyes, but he
was afraid. Only the fact that he was
soaking wet and shivering, gave him pause.
Survival kicked in, as Bellinger knew he would die if he didn’t warm up
somehow.
Slowly,
he peeled his eyelids open; darkness, still green tinged and an acrid odor
enveloped his senses. He forced his body
to move and rolled to his knees. He was
on a soft, grassy substance, the botanist in him guessing this was the origin
of the acrid smell.
He
hugged himself, in a vain attempt at getting warm. Dr. Bellinger started to walk in circles, and
as his eyes adjusted, he could make out that he had been prone at the foot of
some kind of stairway. The doctor moved
back up the stairs, instinctive hope driving him in the direction of home.
It was
then, halfway up the stairs, that he heard a sound, almost like a squirrel or
small rodent. He spun, facing the
sound. After a moment, more sounds,
similar but in different pitches, began to converge on him. Shapes, some small, some taller started to
appear in the dim light, but it was as if his eyes could not take them in
correctly, like they were shifting.
The
doctor put his hands up, knowing this very moment could be his last. The sound suddenly intensified, growing in
strength, but beautifully alien at the same time.
For the
second time that day, Bellinger feinted.
As he lost consciousness, he was sure that something was looking down at
him, smiling.
Spritelings travel together with each other in tight knit groups or become human companions. They are loyal but mischievous. They are always getting into adventures and misadventures. Although Spritelings have their own will, they are connected to each other with a mysterious network. It appears as though all Spritelings communicate on this built-in biological network of pheromones.
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