Bloom Ch. 01

Some of the native measurements in this story are not absolute. "Weighted three stones" or "walked five paces" would be good examples.

Some units, distances, and measurements of time have been annotated using the metric system for your own enjoyment. I apologise in advance if this ruins the immersion for some readers.

Tribal names are direct translations from Swahili. This means nothing as to the context or location of this story. I was merely looking for convincing tribal names, and could have used Maori or Native-American as well. Blame my lack of creativity in this regard!

Sexual content may or may not be forthcoming in this story. I don't plan this kind of thing in advance. If no such scenes are to be found by the end of it, please don't hold it against me. It stems from the mood and inspiration, and my inspiration is sporadic and unpredictable at times.

I certainly hope you enjoy this story, and as always, your feedback is always welcome. It can influence my writing as I publish new chapters! If I like an idea, I will incorporate it.

This will be posted in short chapters on this site, chapter by chapter, as soon as they are finished. Unlike my profession – software development for the curious – I've learnt that I write much better under the pressure and scrutiny of my readers' eyes.

Our first memory was of a shining star,
our last of none.
O! Maker!
Behold your only child!
For we both are One.

Prologue: Lawrence

It was a dank evening when Lawrence entered the dark room.

Stepping out of the airlock, he quickly dressed into his lab coat and safety glasses, before switching the lights on with a smug smile.

"Good evening, Dr. Godwin." His lab assistant chimed.

"Good evening to you too, Sarah!" He spoke to the room as he walked inside.

"Would you like some coffee?" It asked with a mechanical voice.

He never tired of hearing that mechanical voice. In fact, he found it soothing for some reason.

"Yes please."

He looked on at his lab equipment and let out a satisfied sigh, this was the night! He would finally get it done tonight! He hoped the samples were ready!

He went directly to the coffee machine. Procuring an empty cup, he poured himself some of the heavenly brew.

"Thank you, Sarah!"

"My pleasure."

He moved further into the lab, and took a sip from his hot cup. He put it down on his work surface and proceeded to inspect the readouts from the incubator's console.

Strain A46-01: 0.23% growth, a bust.

Strain A48: -99.1% growth.

It's dying? How was this even possible?He thought with a grimace.

"Sarah, strain A48 is dying out. Any idea why?" he asked the artificial intelligence.

"It appears that bacteria is consuming it."

"What bacteria?" he asked distractedly as he eyed the next entry.

Strain B32-04: 22180.06% growth!

What the hell, twenty two thousand percent? The Petri dish should burst at that rate, and the heat generated from such growth would melt... Wait, bacteria? Oh shit!

The coffee cup suddenly fizzled and overflowed.

He was starting to run away when his lungs felt on fire. Then he collapsed, twitching.

Nothing else happened for a long time.

Chapter 1: Jasiri

Jasiri was sparring late with his friends when his mother called again. He was in the middle of executing a very intricate manoeuvre when he heard her shriek!

"Jasiri Kipanga! I'm not going to say it again! It's time for dinner!"

"I'm coming, mother! You don't have to yell!" he shouted.

They were in the middle of a spear training session, so he looked to elder Nyoka for permission to leave.

"You heard your mother." the elder nodded.

He looked at his the other boys apologetically and turned to leave. His friend Mkuki gave him a knowing smile.

The rest of his friends just laughed and elbowed each other as he left.

If you could call them friends, that is. For his entire short life, he knew he only had one friend, and that was Mkuki. For some reason, he just never connected with the other boys of his tribe.

You're almost a man grown now,he told himself.Soon enough, nobody will dare treat you this way.He insisted.

He wished for his eighteenth birthday to come around already. He just hoped the world-mother would grant him his wish for faster growth and a glorious proving.

He would live and see.

Dinner tonight was different, for his father and him had brought in a fresh kill yesterday. He enjoyed the roasted venison and pomegranate juice his mother provided to complement the meal.

It was early fall, and the hunting season was in full swing. He smiled like an idiot whenever he remembered the thrill of the kill.

"You must be thinking murderous thoughts." his sire commented.

"What? Why is that?" he asked, startled.

"You only smile like that when mischief is afoot." his mother said with a scowl.

"I was just recalling our time on the hunt!" he defended.

"Those were some fine skills. Your throwing arm is getting stronger." his father commented with pride.

"You should have seen it, mother. I sent my spear as far as I could, and it nearly pierced that elk." he said proudly.

As the youngest on that hunt, he was assigned as the spear bearer. Jasiri was to cast the blessed spear — a special spear that was Shaped by the tribe's wise shaman — to signal the start of the hunt. Only the shaman was allowed – and taught – how to Shape.

"And you would have been trampled had I not been there." his father admonished.

"That was not my fault!" Jasiri said sheepishly.

But of course it was. He remembered it clearly. One of his 'friends' had dared him to get as close as he could before throwing his spear. He'd won the dare though!

"No matter! You should be more careful, son." his father told him.

"Yes father, I will be."

Much to his pleasure, they finished eating in silence. He thought it strange that his mother didn't berate him about it, but it was a welcome change.

Jasiri lay down at night, but sleep wouldn't come.

He kept his eyes closed as he listened to his father's grunts and his mother's quiet moans of passion behind the flap of their part of the tent.

He was a lonely child, and that might explain his parents' ardour.

Sleep would not come easily, he decided. Putting his hunting skills to the – not so difficult – test, he stealthily made his way outside.

The moon was shining brightly in the sky. If you looked through the fur tents dotting the village, you'd see that it was casting shadows everywhere on the plains, and the stars were glimmering on their trip through the night.

He sighed and wrapped the furs around his shoulders, then decided to go for a short walk. Maybe his parents would be done by the time he returned.

One day, he'd have a wife – perhaps even many wives – of his own, and his sons and daughters would feel the same way.

That moment was years away however, and this thought brought him no comfort as he sneaked by the night watch, away from the great village's borders, and into the night.

It was quiet outside the village.Maybe even too quiet.He thought.

He felt his thoughts wander as his feet took him to his favourite spot near the stream, and he finally settled down on a flat smooth rock by the running water.

Maybe he could Shape too if he tried hard enough.

Shaping was an art only taught to shamans in his tribe. He'd heard stories about other tribes that practised freely though, even going so far as to use it for battle! Oh! How he wished he could change reality with his mind!

He lay down on his back and concentrated on his wish.I want to grow up!He thought hard.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes to check his body.

Nothing happened. Even the greatest shamans couldn't Shape their own bodies, even he knew that much.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he looked upon the distant mountains.

And that's when he noticed the fires in the distance, and his eyes widened in shock!

He ran back home as fast as he could, shouting as loud as he could.

He had to warn his people! They were coming!

He heard the warning calls when the watchers took notice of him. Luckily, no one cast a spear his way until he ran headlong into his uncle, Kuanguka Kivuli.

"What's wrong, boy? What were you doing outside the village this late?" his uncle asked with a scowl.

He tried to answer but couldn't, for he ran out of breath long before this point.

His uncle recognised his look of terror though, and he shook him by the shoulders and asked again. "Jasiri, what's wrong?"

"Raiders... I've seen their fires!" he wheezed. His uncle's eyes widened.

The tribesmen were already awoken by the warning calls, he saw them all pouncing out of their hide tents, spears in hand.

He saw the panicked face of his father, undoubtedly perplexed by his disappearance, until their eyes met. Then his father's eyes turned to a look of absolute fury.

"Jasiri!" his father shouted vehemently.

"I saw their fires! I swear by the world-mother!" he said in fear.

Quickly, the tribesmen prepared their mounts. They would take them unawares, and – much to his father's chagrin – Jasiri would lead them there.

His father was much opposed to this idea despite elder Nyoka's assurances that Jasiri would see no actual combat.

Jasiri wasn't happy about it either; but for entirely different reasons. He wanted to fight!

Oh, how he wished he could fight along with his father and his fellow tribesmen! He was already formulating plans and imagining scenarios that would allow him to sneak up close and cast a spear or two!

But then again, he knew his father well, and very much predicted what would happen once they caught up with the raiders: he'd be asked to stay back and flee at the slightest sign of danger to his person.No chance in seven hells!Jasiri thought.

Still, his friends would be jealous, even if he did nothing at all. Maybe that was enough to satisfy a part of him, but part of him wanted more.

And so, twenty tribesmen took up their arms and mounts to defend their tribe, and they set out at dawn to catch their quarry. It would take them a day of travel to reach the base of the mountains, and then they would proceed on foot after dusk. They would decide what to do depending on what they'd find.

Jasiri couldn't contain his excitement. They were finally at the foot of the mountains.

The uneventful ride was tiring, and unlike his riding lessons, they had to go without rest for most of the day, and while his father and the tribesmen were trained for this, he was not.

He almost fell down from his horse when he tried to dismount. His uncle caught him.

"Easy boy, you look like a sunken fowl!" his uncle said and patted his back. "You should rest for a bit," his uncle looked at the sky, "We'll be moving again soon."

"I'm not tired!" he challenged.

"I'm sure, I'm sure. Just get some rest." his uncle shrugged.

Sighing loudly in exasperation, Jasiri tried to flex his aching muscles after the brutal exercise. The men gathered around the elder to convene.

They conversed quietly for a few paces and then called for him to come over.

His father started. "Jasiri, can you tell us how far from here did you spot the fires up the mountain?" he pointed upwards while he spoke.

Jasiri thought hard.

"Half a half of a day's travel to the north."

"Good," his father said, "Then it will take us half a day to reach them in the dark."

Jasiri opened his eyes. The pain was too much to bear. He looked down at the source of the pain. His bowels had been eviscerated.

He would die here. He knew.

He cursed his luck. His father had told him to stay still and a safe distance away from the action.

He wished he'd listened to his father.

What happened to his father? The last thing he remembered was following the tribesmen through the woods, he was sneaking stealthily behind them when it happened.

It was as if the enemy knew where to look for them. They descended upon them with no mercy.

They looked like demons from afar. They must have Shaped their bodies somehow to look like the demonic visage he'd seen. He shivered slightly, and not from the cold.

They Shaped in battle, he knew that much. The tribesmen didn't stand a chance.

He could still remember some of it. It all happened so fast. He remembered watching in terror as a warrior Shaped his way through his uncle's arm. His uncle's arm simply evaporated in a great grey mist. Then his abdomen and legs. Blood was sprouting from the empty stumps.

He looked down at his eviscerated bowls and concentrated hard, wishing it to heal. He felt a renewed rush of pain as his consciousness slowly began to fade.

He prayed to the world-mother for mercy before everything descended into darkness.