New Age

Several eons passed since they last visited Earth, they discovered humans viewed other-world strangers warily now, without the awe of old.

Their job – gathering insights into human minds – meant molding their DNA to conform while on-planet. They looked human, though in this new age, reed undergarments, intricate piercings and feathered crowns weren’t widely desired.

Human views on appearances had changed.

The aliens adapted, yet one didn’t account for their stilettos’ height.

Travelling the city, the aliens-as-humans towered over passers-by, attracting attention.

Glorious feathered crowns were no longer worshiped, but height had them feeling once more like gods amongst men.

© 2020-2021 Rebecca Glaessner


December 17, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that features stilettos. Who will wear them and why? Go where the prompt leads!

Carrot Cake

“Scanning; water, sand. Beach.”

“Correct. This?”

“Turbine engines, winged structures. Aircraft.”

“This?”

“Two humans. Arms around eachother. Content. Hugging.”

“What else?” The human watched the Android ponder.

“Unable to ascertain without further details.”

“Guess.”

“Scenarios with highest probabilities are a need for warmth, or pressure to ease physical discomfort.”

“Anything else?”

“Physical fatigue; a need for postural support.”

The human glanced up at a surveillance camera.

“Emotional comfort?”

The human paused.

“Physical contact creates a bond, a feeling of worth. Like ingredients in the carrot cake we made. Individual ingredients gained deeper worth through bonding.”

The human grinned, “exactly.”

© 2020-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

Learning

I’m holding tight, too tight, relax the hands, relax the back, breathe. It’s okay.
Lights flash past. Eyes dart up, down, left, right, checking. They settle straight ahead for a moment, only to dart around again and again, keeping tabs on all surrounds.
Hands are gripping tighter again. Relax. Breathe.
So many things to focus on—perhaps too many things.
Breathe. Concentrate.
I can hear our little ones asleep behind us.
Look up. Focus. How fast? Who’s behind? Where do I need to go?
I flick the indicator, looking left. I merge.
I wonder when the confidence will come.

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

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