First Quarter 2025: Storytime Bloghop

Just to update you, my grandson does have ADHD. Now I need to learn yet more skills. Well, that’s something I’m familiar with, so I don’t expect it to take too long.

I’m also working on planning the fourth book in Holly Lisle’s Moon & Sun series. If you want to follow my progress, sign up for the newsletter.

As to the Blog Hop, I finished my story early this time. I’m still not sure whether I like it or not, and suspect it might be the beginning of something longer, but see for yourselves:

Doomed … or Not?

After crash landing on this planet and roaming around a bit, I stumbled and fell into what looked like the shaft of a well to me. Now I was stuck in a damp hole in the middle of nowhere with the sky so high above me, it looked like a small disk of light in a world of darkness.

But it seemed I wasn’t completely alone. There was a grayish plant with several smaller and one big bud growing in the middle of the round bottom end of the shaft. In the evening of my first day there, someone lowered a basket on a string from above. I called, but no one answered. I grabbed the basket, but the string ripped. When the basket landed at my feet, I found out that it was filled with a gray gunk. Disgusted I dumped it onto the plant, wishing for something tasty to eat. How wonderful it’d be to get my hands on a fresh salad with french dressing, cheese, and a double helping of bacon …

One of the smaller buds on the plant popped open and the air filled with the wonderful scent of fried meat. I didn’t dare to trust my eyes, but touch confirmed that the bud definitely contained what I’d wished for. Of course, there was no fork and no plate, but my stomach growled so badly that I ignored that. I ate everything the small plant had offered. It was as delicious as it smelled. So even if I didn’t understand how it had read my needs, I thanked it afterward. Better safe than sorry.

For a month, I counted time by the meals the people above send down for the little plant. It grew slowly but it grew. Especially the biggest of the buds. And without fail, it provided me with three meals a day. I used the remains of the baskets to build myself a dry platform for sleeping, and told stories to the plant of my space travels and of the mix of ingenuity and idiocy so characteristic for the human race.

Sometimes, it felt as if the plant was laughing or at least listening, and that kept me from going insane. Once I tried to wish for components for my ComUnit but realized quickly that the plant had no concept of technology. All I got was a jumble of metal parts that had no rhyme or reason. So I build a wind chime with them and hung it from one of the few roots (not necessarily tree roots but similar) that grew out of the wall. The plant seemed delighted whenever I made them ring.

Then, one morning, a seam on the biggest of the buds cracked a little. Something brown and fuzzy peeked out. It resembled hair. I didn’t dare touch it, it looked so delicate. When the basket with food arrived, the seam had split the full length, showing more of the brown fuzz and something green underneath. And it was moving.

I hurried to dump the gunk at the plant’s base, then withdrew to my bed-platform, watching with interest but also with fear. The green thing sat up and the brown hairs flowed around it. Yes, it was hair. But I had to wait for the green thing to turn to understand what I was seeing. It was a baby, a girl, with skin so green it could have been made of grass and eyelids that were still closed like one saw in dog or cat babies.

Without even thinking, I took off my battered jacket—at least it was dry and warm—, picked up the child, hugged it close to my chest, and cooed to it. I felt like an idiot but the child snuggled closer, warming my heart. Deep breathing told me that she’d fallen asleep, so I hugged her and didn’t dare move, although I was getting cold.

Was the plant still working or had the girl’s birth used up all of its magic? I wished with all my strength that it would make a baby blanket. Pop went a small bud and revealed a multi-colored blanket, a baby-bottle with a yellow liquid, and a bread with lettuce and cheese. As I swapped my jacket for the blanket, the baby woke. It’s tiny arms reached for the bottle, so I fed it and when it made no sign that it wanted the sandwich too, I wolfed it down.

For three days, the baby girl and I bonded. Three days where I did barely anything but feed or clean the baby. I also dumped gunk onto the plant three times a day. Whoever was sending the gunk seemed to know exactly how much more energy the plant needed to feed two people.

On the evening of the third day, the girl opened her eyes and they were as blue as the sky. I’d never seen eyes this blue before. I smiled at her. “Guess it’s time to find you a name, my little beauty.”

The girl blinked. Then it smiled and said. “Guess it’s time to return to Earth. You may call me Gaia.”

The gray plant started growing toward the circle of sky above at an alarming speed.

Visit the others:
The Implant Caregiver by Manon F
The Reaper’s Gift by Becky Sasala
Knot Quite by Barbara Lund
The Collector by T. R. Neff
Adventures in Space with Doot the Pig by Gina Fabio