FSE

Confidence in Night (Otherwise Untitled)

Story by Moriar on SoFurry

, , , ,

#131 of Short Stories

A Synth wakes up to recall some things said.

~ The Synth's facial display, with little fanfare, toggled from entirely blank to single points of light for each eye as she woke up in the middle of the night. The faintest pinpricks of expression glowing out into her otherwise empty quarters from atop her bunk did little to reflect the abrupt encroachment of panic into her previously asleep mood.

~ She rolled onto her side, tugging at the fabric's edge to correct some shortcomings in the placement of her blanket, to gaze down to the alarm clock. It would be another three hours before the alarm would deign to wake her up.

~ An admonishment as much for herself as for the alarm clock to which she directed it, "The quartermaster at the port was wrong."

~ Burying her face into the pillow, to conceal any reflections of her expression from even her own gaze, "The captain says I'm part of the crew.", muffledly contrite against her doubts.

~ As it did when she was younger, the furthermost portions of her tail curled around an ankle, "And the captain wouldn't lie to a member of his crew.", anxiously squeezing of her own ankle, "..or even a piece of equipment, if he was so inclined to converse with one aboard his ship."

~ The quarters hung a dull echo of silence as the alarm clock obliged a lack of ticking, and the Synth waited to fall back to sleep. Her eyes bright pinpoints cast directly into the pillow.

Back to search

Garden Potential (Otherwise Untitled)

~ With the sun bearing down upon the possum and his yard, the marsupial regarded the work that laid before him. Mightily, a hole torn into the soil, and stacks of sundries laid out nearby. ~ Huffing softly with the moment, he could see dirt and bricks...

, ,

Best Laid Course (Otherwise Untitled)

~ The corgi, tumbling down along the sand dune, wheezed and hacked as the sand bit into her joints and breathing seemed never enough to recover her breath. The heat of the winds seemed to try and pry its way in through her vision and soul, allied with...

, , ,

Cutting Board Decisions (Otherwise Untitled)

~ Inhale. ~ Exhale. Hand shaking. ~ Inhale. ~ Exhale. Set the knife down on the counter. ~ Inhale. ~ Exhale. Back away from the cabbage. From the cutting board. From the counter. ~ Stumble. ~ Inhale. ~ Crumple to the floor. ~ Exhale. Tuck tail...

, , ,