Flash: Monster at the Church

Photo by Roger Starnes Sr on Unsplash

Haze hung over the broken black bones of the building, a noxious smell of wood and paint and gasoline. Tim dropped his bike beside the standing white sign declaring what the Sunday sermon would have been for the Second Baptist Church of Sneads Ferry tomorrow and approached where the congregation members sorted through the debris. Several shot dark, distrustful looks his way.

His light skin stood in direct contrast to most of theirs. The few white members were well known to the majority, having married in and been part of the church community for years. Those faces had streaks of soot.

Anger bubbled in his stomach, churning the breakfast he had eaten after working the morning window at his fast food job. Today, he had a split shift with morning and evening, giving him four hours to discover what Mr. Henderson had meant last night at the club. He had been right, the news covered it. It had cycled several times on the big television set up in the restaurant. Although the youth minister had been wrong about what the top story of the day would be. Judge Everett dying of a heart attack knocked this down to second place. White death always beats Black disaster. Even it if is a singular ninety-year old natural death.

“Timmy, what are you doing here?” Kiara asked. “You are going to get into trouble.”

He looked down at her, getting angrier at the shortness of her curls framing her face, realizing for the first time how much taller than her he was. His hurdler legs kept growing and he was basically all arms and legs at age seventeen. “I decided I don’t care anymore. How can I help?”

Her small laugh hurt his soul. “Got a dumpster on speed dial?”

“Actually…” Vinny had assigned Tim to deal with the vendors as part of his training to become a shift manager. “Let me see.” He pulled his phone from his shoulder bag.

A confused look crossed over Kiara’s face as he talked to someone in a broken mix of high school Spanish and English. Two adults closed on them. One looked like an older version of Kiara, only with full braids and beads clacking as she walked. The other a middle-age man with a belly but wide shoulders and taller than Tim, black and white sprinkled his tight curls.

Tim pulled the phone away from his mouth to ask, “He is willing to deliver and pick it back up for half price, if the dumpster can be picked up tomorrow by four p.m. so he can get it to his customer on Monday. He can get it here within an hour.”

“How much?” Kiara’s mother asked.

Tim recited the price he had been quoted. “Someone official will need to sign the contract when he drops it off.”

The man nodded down at the woman. “We can cover the cost if the church can’t,” he rumbled.

“Do it,” she told Tim before turning back to the man. “Nat, let the pastor know and get an area cleared.”

Nat wiped a soot streak on the side of the woman’s face, then kissed the cleaned area before walking off.

When Tim finished the call, giving the address for the delivery, he dropped the phone back into his bag.

“So, this is your White boy,” the woman said to Kiara.

“Mom,” Kiara rolled her eyes. “He isn’t my White boy.”

“You saved him, you got a responsibility.” The woman stated firmly before extending her hand out to Tim. “Beca Dixon.”

“Tim Boyd.” He shook her hand, then waved at the shell which should have been filled with music and laughter tomorrow. “Sorry about this.”

“Did you do it?” Beca asked point blank, her voice hard.

“No, but I know who did.”

“Going to report them to the police?”

He hemmed and hawed a moment. “That would not be effective.”

“Then why are you here?” Kiara shot at him like an accusation.

“To be as effective as I can.”

“Well, you can—” Kiara stopped midword, when her mother put a hand on her shoulder.

“He is still a child, like you, and he is sticking his neck way out just being here.”

Kiara black eyes flicked from her mother to Tim and back to her mother. “Fine.”

“What can I do to help?” Tim asked again.

“Once we got the dumpster,” Beca nodded to the people moving their cars, some of them driving off, likely to get demolition tools, “we will need help loading it up quick.”

“Would the youth group from First Baptist be helpful?”

“Do you think you can get them here?” Beca cocked her head, sending beads clicking.

“In a heartbeat.” He started pawing through his bag to dig out his phone again which was not exactly where it had just dumped it randomly. “Most of us listened to our Sunday School lessons.” Holding his phone triumphally, he paused, “Speaking of lessons, um, Kiara, I…”

“Spit it out,” the teenager snapped.

“That thing, you did, um, I might have done…something…like it last night.”

Kiara blinked twice, then studied his face. “Really?” She drew out the word, half-way between disbelieving and consideration.

Beca snapped her fingers to get their attention. “This can wait.” She pointed to where Nat was walking back with a younger, slimer man who wore a shroud of authority even while in soot-covered overalls and wearing large muddy gloves and boots. “That isn’t something which should be discussed on these grounds, but we will discuss it as soon as possible. In the meantime, start calling your youth group and see who can came by today.”

(words 944; first published 7/5/2026)

Ordinary Monsters series

One) Monsters in the closet (5/10/2026)
Two) Monsters in the school (5/24/2026)
Three) Monsters in the Restaurant (6/28/2026)
Four) Monsters at the Church (7/5/2026)
Five) Monster in the Club (TBD)

Flash: Monsters in the School

State Sign

(Writer’s Group prompt of use an actual place for inspiration. Please note that no evidence of POW deaths is related in the records to the Hofmann forest. Liberty was taken for this story. Any relation to people living or dead is co-incidental. This is a work of fiction.)

Arriving at the Sneads Ferry High School, just off of Dixon, Kiara sat on one of the concrete benches outside to put on her sneakers before heading inside for college testing. Within moments the shadows of the long, covered walk between the drop-off line and the entrance were eclipsed by bodies. She looked up to discover Mandy in front of her with her boyfriend Chuck at her shoulder, with them were Tim and Granger.

“S’up?” she asked, setting her sneakers aside. Kiara glanced at the high school entrance to see who the school had hired for the special Saturday duty. Ken Baumgardner stood guard at the door; the white police officer made eye contact with her, then lowered his hat and leaned in the doorway in a way which blocked the camera lines. No help there. Standing, leaving her book bag and her sneakers on the bench, the seventeen-year-old Black girl backed onto the grass.

“What are you doing here?” Mandy asked, “School’s closed.”

“ACTs.” Kiara responded, looking around for any other aid. She had walked all the way over from High Ridge, leaving way early to make sure she didn’t miss the testing since both her parents were working this weekend and had taken the cars. “I’m going to take the ACTs.” The way early seems to be too early. No one else was being dropped off yet.

“You don’t be needing that.” Mandy said.

Kiara chuckled, hoping to break the hateful pall they were emitting. She grew up with most of them, except Granger whose dad worked at the nearby base. Heck, her father and Mandy’s mom shared a last name, as black and white families often did in North Carolina, when one family owned the other at one point and neither family were of a mind to move away from where they had set down their roots. Making eye contact with each, she said, “Sure will, if I am going to get into a good college.”  Only Timmy broke eye contact. The others stared with anger.

Chuck spat on the concrete walk, leaving a tobacco stain. The coach wouldn’t be happy to learn he was pinching. “Stealing scholarships from white folk with your DEI reversal dis-crime-ination.”

“Yeah.” Granger added. “Like your brother.” He and Tim started circling opposite sides around the bench. Kiara took a step back for each slow step forward they took.

Only J-J had gone onto college, her other two brothers had gone into the trades. He had gotten a full ride, but that had been a sports, not academic scholarship. Like everyone in her family, Kiara hid her smarts, keeping to the middle of the grades as best she could.

“Well, I am not trying to get a scholarship. Just have to take this to apply to Appalachian State U. Honest.” She held up her hands toward them.

“Girls don’t need to go to college.” Mandy put her arm through Chuck’s and leaned on his shoulder. “Just get yourself a man. No need to take a seat away from guys.”

With Mandy tying up Chuck, the explosive running back for the Bulldogs, Kiara took off running across the grassy lawn in front of the school the beads in her hair clacking behind her. If she could get to the treeline leading into the Hofmann Forest which the school backed against, all she would need to do is hide there until other kids start unloading.

Chuck was a short speed runner and Tim did hurdles for track. Granger, though, was a long-distant runner and Kiara had already walked three miles to get to school. He yanked her down by her hair just inside the trees, sending beads flying, and punched her once, straddling her and raising his fist to hit her again, pausing a second as his social programming kicked in against hitting a girl.

“Do it,” panted Mandy as she caught up. “Teach this bitch not to steal from her betters.”

He pounded her three more punches, before standing and kicking her once in the stomach with his boots. “Don’t make me run again.” Cuts ran red where his new class ring had broken her skin.

The morning mist, not yet burned off in the June morning under the trees, cooled lungs as Kiara coughed blood, spitting leaves and loam inhaled as she sucked oxygen back into her body.

The mist thickened, and Kiara felt a different anger from the soil dugged into her knees and elbows. Shorts and a t-shirt offered little protection from being tackled to the ground. She panicked momentarily. She shouldn’t feel that anger, that connection to the soil. Not outside the coven circle.

Her beads!

“Nigger, taking what belongs to us.” Mandy kicked Kiara in the hands wrapped around her middle to protect her abused stomach. “Black trash.” She kicked Kiara again.

The ground groaned low.

Hofmann whispered in Kiara’s ears. Slaves who died cutting lumber in the forest, who bled harvesting the tobacco fields clear to build the school. But they were old, old voices, faded with time. Stronger were the German and Italian voices of the POWs held on US soil during World War Two.

North Carolinian business men knew what to do with free labor no one would come looking for. Thousands of interned soldiers found their way into the farms and lumber mills, filling slots left by the freeing of slaves eighty years before their capture in North African campaigns. The south does like taking free labor from Africa, no matter the skin color.

Her blood, blessed by the Loa under full and new moons since her mother had introduced her to the secrets, fell to angry soil, feeding it without the beads to contain her powers.

“Run.” Kiara whispered.

“What’s that, Black girl?” Mandy kicked her hard enough to roll Kiara onto her back. “Run? Don’t worry. You won’t need to run ever again.” She kicked her another time, rolling Kiara face down into the dirt.

“Mandy…” Tim said.

“Scared Timmy?” Mandy teased. “It’s time to take out this trash. Just another Black girl disappearing one summer afternoon. Didn’t you see the news? North Carolina has half of the missing black girls in the nation this year. No one will notice one more.”

Granger pounded his hands together. Kiara’s blood transferring from his right ring to his left palm. “Now we are talking. Wait ‘til I tell my dad I got my first kill.”

“Hold on.” Tim backed into a tree. “This is wrong.” He locked eyes with Chuck, the leader of the group, who shrugged like “what are you going to do? teenagers do shenanigans.”

Then the star running back snapped open a knife he always carried. “You can help, or you can be a pussy. But you are going to stay quiet.”

Tim nodded his head rapidly, the golden rays cutting through the branches of the ill-fated forest zig-sagging across his face. Mist rivaling low clouds swirled at his feet.

The forest woke. Indian battleground, slave land, a secret pit grave where Axis soldiers had been tossed responded to the necromancer blood soaking the loam.

Tim, fighting it every step of the way, swallowed when his eyes crawled back to meet Kiara’s brown eyes with just a touch of green, so like Mandy’s.

While the others had been concentrating on Timmy, Kiara had raised onto her battered hands and knees. Her cut face turned up, dripping blood, and she mouthed to him, “Run.”

Inside his brain, the word echoed in a thousand languages. American Southern, Lumbee, Seventeenth Century English, Hattian, German – Run. Run away. Don’t look back. Run.

His eyes dilated. His color blanched to ghost white.

Ghost hands lifted her to standing.

Tim ran.

The three others of the mob swung back to look at her.

Seeing their victim standing, Mandy rushed forward to push her back down. Granger closed on one side and Chuck on the other, playing his knife back and forth. “Time to die,” he said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kiara said in a voice not her own.

Skeletal remains burst through the ground, clacking and clicking into place, slurping from the mud, thudding dropping dirt to the ground, vegetation burned the nostrils with scents of mold and moss from the freshly churned soil.

Behind Ted, running as though his life depended on it, the screams started, like teenage high-jinks to startle people at Halloween…or people being torn apart.

Kiara rested against a tree. “Danke,” she thanked the German officer who had been supervising when some timber fell the wrong direction. Struggling with her one year of high school German, after checking he wasn’t bilingual in French or English, he asked that he pulled the bones into the pit with his group so they wouldn’t stand out if someone came looking for new bones in the ground. Scratching through her memory, past her pain, she wiped her face for blood, then applied the sacrifice to the tree, asking the appropriate Loa to heal the area of all evidence, restoring the ground to health. Stumbling out, she found an Italian zombie carrying her beads. The boy had to have been only sixteen when he had died.

He spoke, or at least understood, English.

“You are very kind to have collected these for me.” Kiara bruised lips split as she talked, giving the boy strength and clarity as more of her blood leaked out of her skin. Never in her life has she spilled this much blood uncontrolled by bowl or goblet. “I hate to ask more of you, but if you could, see that those three spirits are sent on their way. I don’t want them hanging around here. The forest has dealt with enough.”

He nodded and shrugged, indicating he would try, but couldn’t promise anything. The other spirits were more vengeful than he, and both Chuck and Mandy descended from people in Oslow county who cracked whips against those who were not allowed to fight back. The spirit-infused body reached out a hand to cup her check and passed back much of the energy it had absorbed. Cuts sealed, raised bruised stopped swelling, the rib rasping with every breath disappeared from the list of offenses her body was keeping track of.

The spirit disappeared, soil falling off of her and him and merging back into the sport fields around the High School, leaving her clothes wrinkled but clean. She limbed slowly back to the school where streams of students talked, walking into the school for testing. Beside her shoes and bags stood Tim, rocking from foot-to-foot, the whites of his eyes getting rounder the closer she got.

Kiara sat down on the bench, wincing as she bent over, to put on the sneakers so she could go indoors. The beads dug into her hip as she changed feet. The noisiness of the world faded without her feet connected to the ground, but she didn’t have time or energy to return the beads to her hair and still have any chance with passing the ACTs.

Tim stayed frozen like a prey before a predator.

Standing, Kiara shouldered her bag. “You are going to stay quiet,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“Say it.” She lifted a finger to the middle of his forehead.

“Not a word, ever. I swear.”

“Are you here for the testing too?”

“Nah, we just wanted to mess with some of the ni—” he stopped himself mid-word.

She dropped her finger to his lips. “Do better.”

He nodded again.

(words 1,916; first published 5/25/2026)

Ordinary Monsters series

One) Monsters in the closet (5/10/2026)
Two) Monsters in the school (5/24/2026)
Three) Monsters in the Restaurant (6/28/2026)
Four) Monsters at the Church (7/5/2026)
Five) Monster in the Club (TBD)

Flash – Laying Easter Eggs Part 4: Monkeys Start Hunting for Eggs

Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash

“Epsilon Eridani, with Ran right in the life zone as recorded from Earth and the huge AEgir keeping it company.” Navigator Mia Young greeted her captain as Isabella Baker came in carrying her favorite stimulant in one hand and a tablet in the other. “We dropped out of relativistic drive thirty minutes ago within two A.U.s of our goal and have sent confirmation via gravity-wave back to Earth per standard procedure. Expected response, thanks to the buoys we dropped on the way here, will be three hours, specifically eleven hundred sixteen at the earliest, if no one bothers to get a response from the brass. Our six days travel out equaled to eleven Earth years.”

“I have command,” the captain said.

“Aye ma’am. You have command.” Mia tapped the panel in front of her, moving her work over to her normal station, and followed it to the seat there, leaving the bridge command chair empty for Baker.

“Everyone, I know it is early, but drop me a report.” Isabella put her precious near-coffee, because god-forbid uncontrolled stimulants be used on a “not-really military” space-going vessel, into the secured holder in case they lost control of the artificial gravity, again. The shakedown cruise was over a hundred years ago according to Earth’s calendar, but it was less than seven months ago according to her vivid memory. The quick trip back from Alpha Centauri, after letting the colonists there know they were not as alone as they had thought when they had escaped the World War Three their ancestors policies had created before the bastards had bugged out, had been much more exciting than the two-day inaugural trip to Sol’s closest neighboring star.

She dropped the tablet into the arm of her command chair to recharge and download the incoming reports.

***

Three hours later the ping acknowledgement came back from Earth. Always reassuring that the planet hadn’t destroyed itself while they were gone. She wasn’t sure if they and their sister ship, the Enterprise and Shuguang (a Mandurian word meaning Dawn or First Light) respectively, returning back to Earth in their very peculiar leapfrog through time kept the world governments stable or they had become a forgotten curiosity until they reappeared like a Flying Dutchman out of the mists of history. She expected it would take at least another hour before they got any official response from someone whose job wasn’t to watch a little workstation for a communication that came in every two to three years.

In the meantime, it was time to jog the elbow of Lieutenant Loong. Past time. Isabella stood, as she tried to do every hour, and toured the bridge, offering words of encouragement, snapping people awake from mid-morning slumps, and bringing a certain junior officer to heel. Quietly, no louder than any of the other communications she had offered to the others, she asked, “When should I expect Planetary’s first report, Ms. Loong?”

The American-born Chinese national practically jumped out of her skin. “Ma’am.”

Isabella waited, smiling gently, grateful once again the powers-that-be decided that humanity would send non-warships to explore the universe and staff them solely with women, and a shit-load of sperm in case they had to limp back with a failed relativistic drive trading a “three-year” deployment into a multi-generational trip. With the bonus of less air, less food, and less space needed for women. And less dominant battles for her command structure, though she still needed to regularly rein in Commander Julie Carter from engineering.

Prodding Loong Yang was unusual. “The report I asked for when I first stepped on the bridge this morning.”

“Oh, that report.”

“Yes, that report.”

“Um, well, I had some unusual findings.”

“To be expected. We are in a completely new planetary system. Only six planets.”

Loong pressed her lips together, before saying quietly. “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t think. Well, I do think, anyway Ran” her voice dropped to a near whisper and she switched to Mandurian, something Isabella had to learn on top of her fluency in Spanish and her functional German in case she got transferred to First Light, “is not natural.”

“Please repeat.” While Isabella had learned Mandurian, she hadn’t been immersed in it as yet.

The Lieutenant returned to English but kept her voice very low. “Ran is too much like Earth; it isn’t natural. Look.” She showed Isabella her screen where a blue-green planet turned. The only thing missing in the picture was the Moon for scale.

Fluffy clouds streaked across the atmosphere. Green and brown land masses floated by in the three-hour time lapse since the Enterprise had first aimed its scopes at the planet located in the life zone. Another set of scopes was aimed at the gas giant, another at the speedy rock near the orange star. A single camera was aimed at the three other, more boring planets of the system. A hurricane swirled across the girth of Ran between the two snowcapped poles during the first hour of the recording before the planet rotated it out of sight. The only thing missing was electric lights in the dark areas of the planet.

“Gravity?”

“Based on the bounce, within .03 of Earth, but on the lighter side.”

“Diameter.”

“2% more than Earth, but the density of the core looks slightly less than Earth, hence the gravity being lighter.”

“Day.”

“The spin is slightly faster than Earth, bringing the day within three seconds of our normal. And before you ask, same planetary tilt so same seasons.”

“Atmosphere.”

“Nitrogen-Oxygen mix within human range, though higher Oxygen than is presently found on Earth.”

“I want that full report an hour ago. Failing that, put together everything you have checked and get it to me as soon as you can.”

Captain Baker then order the ship to forget the slow pass through the system gathering information to send back to Earth and to get to the orbit of the second planet pronto. Two hours later, once the basic navigation was figured out to avoid AEgir and the small asteroid belt, Isabella retired to eat and parse the ongoing reports about Ran.

As much as she wanted to have all cameras pointed at Ran, she had instead ordered a full navigation analysis of the system. She wanted to know if there were visitors other than them, she wanted to know how to bug out, and she wanted to know if anything else was weird. She also gave Loong three Ensigns to get everything they could from their little suite of information. They had nineteen days to get to orbit without their relativistic drive online.

First, after getting today’s near-chicken made from fish meat and the dreams of the cook, Isabella reviewed the bullshit “thank you for your service and adding to mankind’s (oh, dear, we are back to that gendered word again, I guess it was time for it to swing back around) knowledge base” from the brass, now entitled “The United Americas.” In particular this missive was written by the “President for Life” and co-signed by the Director-General of the “American Space Exploration and Military Department” which it seemed she now fell under. The language was Spanish.

Finishing the pretend meat and the pretend gladhanding at the same time, Isabella moved to review the reports, to discover one of pings into her queue was another letter from back on Earth. This one from the European and African Union; a third ping hit while she opened that one came in from the Hauo Dynasty. Nice to know who the players are back home. The Hauo Dynasty had been two decades into solidifying the Asian union, actually successfully bringing both Japan and Australia under their umbrella last time the Enterprise passed through Earth. Looks like they finished cementing themselves into power if they managed to get information out of the United Americas within two hours of it hitting the planet and turning something around.

After reading both letters, she verified her communication officer had pinged acknowledgment back on all three and then she ordered all reports to be locked down. No outgoing information at all back to Earth. Fortunately with over a hundred years passing on Earth since they had lifted out of the gravity well to board the Enterprise, none of her crew had an urgent need to write home.

Finally cleared of all other duties, she poured over the reports about the Earth-like planet circling a star ten light years from home.

***

“Thank you, Lieutenant Loong for your presentation.” The captain watched as the junior officer scurried back to her chair behind her commanding officer, a Russian scientist who kept mostly to herself, an enigma to both the people who served under her and Isabella. With this discovery, she couldn’t let that phoned-in leadership continue. Baker stood and went the center of the room, looking around at her command staff and their support.

“We have been in orbit a month now. Thank you to Brooks and Price for creating the reports about AEgir and Zips to send back home. Now, we need to decide what to send back to Earth about Ran. Plants and animals seem to match Earth’s Pilocene period, somewhere between just two and five million years ago. I want to authorize a shuttle to verify, taking samples of plants, animals, and soil.” Baker gritted her teeth into a grim smile. “I want a damn core, as deep as we can make one. Commander Carter, I sent you my requirements two days ago. Think you can print something by the end of the week?”

“More like fourteen days if it is going to stand up to that sort of dig.”

“You got seven.” She looked around the table, making eye contact. “This is too much of a trap. Nearest solitary K-star to our planet having a planet in the life zone a 99.9 however many nines following percentage match to our homeworld. That isn’t right. We have seen what life looks like developed on other planets, and this isn’t it. Toss in the clear modifications of comets and to the Oorts cloud Navigation has found, someone made this. And since it is so much like our Earth, they made it for us. Why?”

“A gift?” suggested a ranking supporting the wall.

“It would take thousands of years if not millions, with technology we don’t understand. We barely can keep Earth habitable, forget about Terra-forming another world to be within a fraction of our gravity. To build a planet up for that would take slamming comet after asteroid after meteor into a world. Why would anyone leave something like this for us?”

“I wonder if they did this elsewhere. What is the next closest yellow or orange star to Earth that isn’t a flare star?” Lieutenant Brooks asked.

“I would try Tau Ceti. At just under 12 light years, that would be my pick to explore.”  Ensign Price suggested. “With Groombridge being a nice runner-up at 16 light years.”

“Let me guess, none of these are close to each other.” Isabella stated.

“Opposite sides of Sol.”

“We don’t have time.”

***

“Between three hundred and five hundred thousand years, someone has been working on this.” Isabella placed her tablet on the desk.

Lieutenant Loong looked over at Lieutenant Brooks. Commander Stepanova, the director of the science division, had sent them alone. Seems she had kept a secret stash of vodka and was making her way through it.

Loong, more familiar with Captain Baker’s moods as a bridge officer, confirmed, “Oort cloud record shows modifications starting about 500,000 years ago with it stopping about 100,000 years after that. The planet record shows plant life like ferns, starting a “fossilized,” if you can even call it that, record about 220,000 years ago. That shows an accelerated change of forced evolution for about 80,000 years before that stops abruptly.”

“Metallic debris has been found within the ocean, in one area it looks like a space station about the size of the Enterprise. Several other land and ocean locations show smaller ships, all from about one-four-zero thousand. We looked for other evidence in space but found none. Whatever was fought, was fought here and gravity cleaned up the evidence.” Brooks shifted her papers around. “We have found three weak signals on the inner edge of the Oorts cloud. Scope magnification shows nothing.”

“That is a long trip out on sublight engines.” The captain rubbed her face. She looked over to her second-in-command. “Musa, I’m going to drop most of the Science department on planet. Volunteers will be impregnated. Half will volunteer for the procedure.”

“Clear ma’am.”

“That includes you. You are grounding with the rest. We are also dropping  three-quarters of the seed and equipment in the cargo for colonization. Just in case. You will get a grav-repeater too. You will be on your own either for…” Baker’s eyes grew hazy as she did the calculations “…two months, or, and I hate to admit this is highly likely, I am going to do a quick run out to investigate those two star systems Price suggested, quick run for us being about a month or so, for you it will be more like forty years. See if you can get Shuguang in the mix. Last I heard, they were heading out to Ross.”

“Ma’am, I don’t speak Mandarin.”

“Learn. You get Loong. We need them here, not part of Earth, until we understand what is happening here and at home. Crank down the reports to a minimum. Say we crashed or some sort of shit.”

***

Seeing her sister ship in orbit around Ran reassured Captain Baker as she dropped out of realitivistic. She knew intellectually First Light had picked up one of the Tortoises Notes while they assisted the Ran colony for the last two decades. Between their efforts, and her own ship’s admittedly brief time thanks to relativistic speeds, they had deciphered the Tortoise comments as well as the Bird, Scorpion, and the Crocabilly additions. But talking in a careful code while keeping Earth and Alpha Centuri and the science station now at Barnard’s Star out of the loop had been a challenge. Most of the success wasn’t their own sneakiness but the United Americas attacking the Hauo Dynasty when their God-Emperor died, which brought the EAU into the conflict and ignited the fourth world war.

Would it be a good or bad time after twenty years – a generation of bad blood, to let Earth know they had three viable worlds ready for colonization and using the Notes they could finish off three additional ones which hadn’t been processed with the Crocabillies ruthless efficiency within a “short” ten thousand years into three more Edens?

Would it be a good or bad time to let the fractured Earth governments know there had been two intergalactic civilizations before humans made space flight? That we might have nine neighbors waiting or already reaching for the stars who may be as lovely as the Tortoises and Birds or as dangerous as the Competitors or the Threads.

Could she trust other humans not to wipe out the Potential threats? Could she trust the other Potentials not to be a threat?

She rubbed her belly, considering. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show after their five months of travel, something she had started just before dropping off the reproductive suite for the colony. About twenty percent of her crew opted to reproduce as well, just in case, which made the months of investigating Tau Ceti a nightmare of morning sickness for everyone.

What come next would need to be put to a vote, but her preference was let Earth, now a hundred fifty years ahead or behind her depending on how you looked at things, stew in its special crazy. She had a future to prepare for.

(words 2,642; first published 3/29/2026)

 

Laying Easter Eggs Series

  1. The Tortoises (3/8/2026)
  2. The Dinobirds (3/15/2026)
  3. Crocabillies (3/22/2026)
  4. Monkeys Start Hunting for Eggs (3/29/2026)

Flash – Laying Easter Eggs Part 3: Crocabillies

ID 351842023 @ Eduard Goricev | Dreamstime.com

“Anything new about the monkeys?” BigMouth asked.

BoneTeeth snapped his snout in annoyance. “They are primates. And not since last shift. The Joint Monitors report they have begun to build shelters.”

“But that was ninety-five years ago. It is about time for them to wake up again and check. And since they don’t let me have permission for the graviton unless it is an emergency, I was hoping you might have had something with the shift-start download.”

“I don’t. And it takes much longer than a hundred years to go from reed shelters to space flight.”

“Just didn’t want to go to sleep in murky waters,” the junior worker griped.

Pacing the room, his long leathered tail whipping back and forth behind him, BoneTeeth checked each of the stations BigMouth and his two subservant plovers had been manning for the last shift. The oxygen levels continued to creep up in the lower portions of the atmosphere. The magnetic poles had switched again about three years ago. They would need to get that stabilized before transferring any migratory creatures from the monkey-world, ugh, BigMouth had him doing it, the Potential-14 world. The water algae seemed to match the Potential world of about two thousand eight hundred million years ago. It was nearly time to start thinking about land fungi. He would need to bounce that off of the Planners.

The Birds had done what they could, finding all the Potential worlds on their own while waiting for the Crocabillies and the Scorps to jump offworld and settle the first of the Shells the Tortoises left specifically for them so very long ago. But the Birds just were not lizard-brained enough to ruthlessly push the agendas in the Notes to make the worlds livable for Potential species. They tried to make the modified planetoids viable, those rocks that survived the long time since the Tortoises extinction and stabilized into something that could be turned into Shells, but the Birds flitted around with their short lives and need to explore and just couldn’t concentrate on making the Shells work as habitable planets.

Seventeen Potentials: three lost when their homeworlds ecologies failed from solar flares or asteroids; one, the greedy Competitors extinguished before they drained the galaxy swamp of all Potentials, may the Tortoises swim swiftly for their sacrifice; four sentients now spaceworthy together in a community, maybe, and waiting on nine others to see beyond their atmosphere. All one big happy family if the Tortoise Ghosts had anything to say about it, which anyone who swam the river knew would never work. Something always flooded.

The gas planet Whales likely were not going to make it. They reached shelter building before even the Crocabillies according to the Bird records but had not progressed any further in sixty thousand years.

Bone eyed the plovers. Some years he wished his species hadn’t forced-evolved their mutuals into a slave-race. Aside from how the Birds reacted to seeing the fake-sentient species looking so much like their weakest gender, bred to bond and serve one of the Crocabillies for life, he sometimes fell into questioning the ethics of bonding without the possibility of consent as though he was from the Intelligent-is-Choice tide. A very uncomfortable feeling for someone as old and river-bound as him. Other times he wondered if they could use the biological technology to uplift the Potentials quicker, the Spiders notwithstanding. They can stay down there on their homeworld forever.

On the third hand, if he had three hands which he didn’t, he wondered if the Joint Species were even going to make it now that the Threads have managed to lift into space just three shifts ago. The Tortoises thought that planet would evolve toward intelligent trees, not realizing it was the fungal root system developing the intelligence. At least they were triple-star, large red as the primary, limited. How does one even talk to a non-animal? Something to do research on during the boring parts of the shift to see what had been happening while he napped.

In the meantime, he bundled BigMouth off to his hibernation period. After killing and eating Big’s plovers, Bone asked the computer to activate a pair of plovers with genetic dispositions suitable for his personality and needs and settled into his decade-long shift.

(words 715; first published 3/22/2026)

Laying Easter Eggs Series

  1. The Tortoises (3/8/2026)
  2. The Dinobirds (3/15/2026)
  3. Crocabillies (3/22/2026)
  4. Monkeys Start Hunting for Eggs (3/29/2026)

Flash – Laying Easter Eggs Part 2: The Dinobirds

Photo by Edrick Krozendijk on Unsplash

“Oh, that is a beaute of a rock.” FishDiver shared with his scouting wingmate as SoaringHigh cleansed the gel from her feathers.

Febirds and wifbirds took longer than werebirds to crawl out of the deep cold; he had been functional for nearly six hours. Mesbirds, the fourth gender of their species, couldn’t handle cryogenics at all and were limited to their homeworld of Air and two of the nearby colony worlds the Tortoises had prepared for them in hopes of their Potential nearly a hundred thousand years ago. At least that had been the case when they left their colony four hundred years ago. Who knows what the tech was like now.

Of the twelve in cryogenics, it was their turn to wake upon reaching a system and they had struck a warm updraft. Flipping through the screens with claw and wing tips, FishDiver said, “Definitely a Tortoise Shell world. Running possibilities now to see where the Potentials are likely to be.”

“Don’t mess with me.” SoaringHigh slipped into the roosting bar next to FishDiver, their ninth shift together while the FarFlyer made its long search. “A real Tortoise Shell world?”

“It is still clearing out its orbit. Look at all the comet trails through the system directing material impacts on the planet, the only one completely in the liquid water zone. No way those flight paths are natural.”

“Don’t make assumptions. We don’t want to look like we jumped off a cliff.”

“Stop being a scientist for once and believe your eyes and the breeze.” He bobbed his head at the displays. “Tell me that doesn’t look just like the systems for Cloud and Wind.”

Tears slid down SoaringHigh’s beak as she watched the dance of rocks their computer faithfully recorded as they slept the three years traveling, slowing down from interstellar speed at the edges of the system’s Oorts cloud to a reasonable speed in the crowded the inner system. “Potential species fourteen,” she chirped. “The last of them. Only two of the seventeen Potentials failed.”

“Now who is making assumptions. We don’t know where the actual Potentials are yet. Yellow or orange star, maybe a very young red. Solitary.” FishDiver added the specific distance within the liquid water zone the modified rock tumbled through. A highly carbon-dioxide atmosphere and acidic water flowed over the rocky surface, not livable yet, and not livable at all for their species nested under a binary white star, but the potential was there for the right Potential. He set the navigation system searching the stellar roosting branch. “Look around and see if the Tortoises left a Note. I’ll get some grubs going.” He had been ignoring his crop for the last three hours waiting for Soaring to become functional enough for social eating, but it was time to fill it so he could really concentrate on what the computer was feeding them.

Twenty minutes later, because whoever had closed up after the last failed flight hadn’t cleaned up their mess in the mess hall, he returned with two small lidded bowls of artificially wiggling worm proteins. He had downed one by himself while putting everything back into place, cryo-processing vacated the system before cold storage leaving him empty from beak to tail.

“Thank you.” Soaring said, accepting her food and setting within the stowage space in case of loss of gravity. Somehow she never needed food immediately upon coming awake. You think as a febird nearly half again his weight, she would need food even more. “Found the Note. Primates are the Potentials; the navigation search you set up came back with the same data the translator did for the star location mentioned in the Note. About 10.5 lightyears away. Normally that is the furthest out the Tortoises go for their six gifts of Shells, but this escarpment has nothing nearby. The rest of the gifts, if they exist, are even further scattered.”

“And nearly twenty years to get up to speed, cross the distance, and check to see if the Potentials have survived.” Fish stabbed at his food in anger. “We are going to need to wake the others. How far is Air?”

“The homeworld is a hundred fifteen light-years toward galaxy center; the graviton will have a message there in fifteen days by relay. If technology hasn’t been upgraded or degraded, more ships can be here in about a hundred fifty years to start the next stage of preparing the Shell. All the instructions of what to do next after the cooldown are in the Note like normal.”

“A shame the first sentients to emerge after the Tortoises were the Competitors.”

“Those shelled creatures were not ready for those ravenous beasts.” Soaring shook her feathers down. “To wait over eighty thousand years, through nineteen different dynasties, for someone else to talk with and get the Competitors. To have to extinguish the only other intelligent species you met after working so long to help everyone to come after you.”

“To the Tortoises. Long may they fly.” Fish lifted his cup into the air.

Soaring removed her bowl from stowage and did likewise. “Or crawl if they prefer.”

(words 856; first published 3/15/2026)

Laying Easter Eggs Series

  1. The Tortoises (3/8/2026)
  2. The Dinobirds (3/15/2026)
  3. Crocabillies (3/22/2026)
  4. Monkeys Start Hunting for Eggs (3/29/2026)