By Anita Howitt
Darshia stretched her longest set of legs and hopped a couple times to limber up. Zephyriah was a difficult little brother at the best of times, but… he was missing. She had to go find him before darkness fell. Before anyone else died.
The last time he disappeared, Zephyriah and his friends stirred up a heap of trouble. The gang of youngsters left the Haunch Colonies and headed for the lush furest of the Underbelly. They ended up partying and drinking way too much, making a mess and being all kinds of rowdy. Folks blamed them for the calamities that followed.
The flood. The disappearances.
Darshia shuddered as she recalled it. So many dead.
She had to find her brother before another disaster occurred.
A deep breath expelled her angry thoughts. Off to the Underbelly, where all the kids hung out, exploring and experimenting with gods only knew what.
She’d only made it a short distance when she bumped into Leonidas—literally. They collided mid-leap and fell in a heap. Leonidas rubbed his head with a foreleg, his ocular bristle twitching. “Slow down, cutie!”
“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Darshia said. “I’m glad I ran into you. Zephyriah is gone. Have you seen him?”
“I was coming to warn you. Word is we’re in for another storm.”
“I have to find him.” Darshia frowned, her genal spines twitching with anger she couldn’t hide. “So I can wring his pronotal comb!”
“I’ll help you,” Leonidas said. “Nasty weather we’ve been having. We ought to be careful. Folks talk about a toxic storm a month ago. They’re afraid it’ll happen again.”
Darshia cast him a sidelong glance. “I’ve heard the stories! I didn’t hatch yesterday.” The last thing she needed was another unsolicited safety lesson from Leonidas. Another attempt to convince her she needed him. His insecurity was exhausting.
He said, “Fools think leaving is our only chance—”
Darshia listened with only half a leg. Leonidas wasn’t known for his intelligence. He had some nice sets of legs and an impressive thorax, but there wasn’t much going on under his antennae. Still, Darshia appreciated his company.
“Wait.” Darshia stopped. “Look!”
Twelve travelers hopped past at a good clip. Evading something.
A shadow descended, blocking out the light. Darshia crouched low, her bristles hooking into the long, white hairs of the furest to hold her in place. Everything trembled. There was a terrible tearing and scraping sound, and Darshia clung on for dear life, gripping deeper with her tarsal claws. She lost sight of Leonidas and the others as a great paw swiped over and over, barely missing her.
When the onslaught ended, Darshia was alone. Shaking, she yelled for her friend. “Leonidas?”
“I’m here,” he called, righting himself.
“Did it get you?” She reached out to steady him.
“Only a glancing blow.” He puffed up with pride. “It takes more than that to get through my chitin.”
Darshia glanced around. The others were gone—all but him.
As if reading her thoughts, Leonidas said, “Some of them were swept away, but others leapt into the unknown.” He pointed with his foreleg. “Out there.”
Darshia stared out at the endless purple of the Blanketverse. Its appearance preceded all storms—a great fleecy immensity that portended destruction. The travelers were gone, lost somewhere in the beyond. “Gods keep them safe.”
“The damn fools,” Leonidas added, as he prepared to jump again. “We should hurry. The scratchings are coming more frequently.”
They entered the Underbelly and Darshia shouted for Zephyriah. Nothing. The furest was silent and still except for—only two more refugees fleeing the other direction.
“What’s going on up there?” Darshia asked as they jumped past.
“Oh, the atrocities!” one of them shouted. “My babies, all of them, dead!”
“Run!” the other said. “The storm’s a-coming!”
Leonidas turned to Darshia. “He may be gone, sweetheart.”
“Don’t say that!” Darshia searched Leonidas’s face. His labial palpus twitched, but she always had a hard time reading him. “Please, don’t say that.”
He backed up and looked past Darshia. “What the—”
They made their way to a group of youngsters in the shadows. “Hello?” Darshia called. It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized they lay dormant. Dead. Her voice came out a weak plea. “What happened here?”
An old-timer passed, startling Darshia. “You better leave,” he said. “The furest’s a toxic wasteland now. You’ll find only more death ahead.”
“Where do we go?” Darshia asked.
“I hear the Haunch Colony is taking in refugees,” he said. “I’m headed that way myself.”
“That’s where we came from.” Darshia trembled. “Last flood was so bad, half the colony perished.”
The oldster rubbed his foreleg on his antenna. “I’m nearly a hundred days old. I’ve seen all there is to see. If it’s my time, it’s my time. You two be careful.” He bounced away awkwardly, his old legs like rusty springs.
Darshia watched him go. As he vanished over the horizon, her gaze landed on another pile of bodies just down the hill.
“Please, no, no, no!” Darshia spied her brother among the dozens of corpses and rushed to his side. The Blanketverse closed in, a dark shadow falling, muffling the sudden nearby noise of rushing water.
As Darshia hovered over Zephyriah’s still form, she realized there was no safe place anymore. Not Mane Street, not the Haunch Colonies, not the Underbelly furest.
A voice of doom came from above. “Time for your bath, Miss Meow-Meow. We’ll stop all your scratchies with some nice herbal soap.”
Darshia’s eyes met Leonidas’s, and in that brief moment, she decided.
“Don’t,” Leonidas said. His eyes pleaded and he reached out—too slow to stop her.
Darshia’s spring-loaded back legs snapped. Off into the purple Blanketverse she went, a new adventure and a new life awaiting her beyond the horizon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I think that you were trying to be serious with this story, but I could not stop laughing. I kept picturing this as a picture book illustrated by Gary Larson of the Far Side.
quite amusing – took me a little time to get the “lay of the land”.
Great fun to read! It tickled my imagination and I could actually see in my mind’s eye your descriptions. Lovely!
Loved it, loved it, loved it! The premise was clever, and there were so many fun little flea-tails (I CANNOT HELP MYSELF) that made me chuckle. Such a fun read!
It’s like Wacky Wednesday all week long! Hilarious story! Sorry, but it’s hard to have too much sympathy for a flea. I really enjoyed it!
Thanks, Anita. That was fun! Miss you.
Bwahahahahaha. Wonderfully comedic insect story.
I loved your story it had a lot of dialog and it was nice and fun
Lol fun read!