Contraphobe

She had the silver blue skin of the Jhondeflae. She really didn’t follow the rules of the priesthood however her piers questioned her righteousness. They had no choice, but to accept her. Mutation chooses its own victims and they, like her became the Flae, blue skinned, silver haired, golden-eyed women with the power of creation

Shanica didn’t really follow the rules of the priesthood her piers questioned her righteousness. Acceptance was necessary for mutation chooses its own victims and they, like her, were the Flae, blue skinned, silver haired, golden-eyed women with the power of creation. Shanica’s quest, looking for a legend dismayed the Flae elders. They scoffed at the remote possibility that the male Flae existed. They scolded her for not using her Selan to heal the injured, and take care of all the needs of the multitude of mutants that lined up at the doors to the temples everywhere. But still she was on this quest.

Since only the Elites had the contraptions called machines, Shanica was riding a Conda. Tintle was a beast of power, with seven legs and a long soft sleek body that easily carried her smoothly. The mighty Conda had four cloven feet, which were connected to very muscular front legs, strong enough to pull himself up an incline of eighty degrees with five hundred pounds on his back. His three back legs were cat like hindquarters enabling him to jump very long stretches, an excellent riding beast. Shanica had promised the intelligent but sometimes-rebellious Tintle all the intoxicating Sinta flowers he could eat for a week, if he would just carry her on this perilous journey. Tintle agreed, although now he was thinking he should have held out for more as he labored beside the crevice called Contraphobe.

Contraphobe stretched the length of what seemed to be the world, running north and south along what used to be the Rocky Mountains. No one knew how deep the crevice was, but it was rumored the Elite created it as a complex entrance to the world below. Anyone who had ventured its depths never returned.

Shanica, however, had no intention of descending into its eternal blackness but desperately at this moment, attempting to find a place narrow enough for Tintle’s strong legs to jump to the other side. Well Tintle, She projected her thoughts; this looks like, as good a place as any to spend the night. What do you think?

Perfect. Tintle returned and gently sunk to his knees into a crouch, enabling her to slide gracefully to the slick obsidian stone that made up the edge and face of Contraphobe. Shanica? Tintle gently probed.

Yes? Came her reply.

Do you think you could find it in your large gentle heart to create just a little Sinta to help me fall asleep? He projected.

Oh I do not know, Tintle. She replied telepathically. The last time I did you slept till mid-day. She added.

Please, Shanica, Tintle pleaded, Just one little flower?

She looked at the big gentle Conda with his big sad aquamarine colored eyes. She could never say no to him, he was so good to her. Oh, all right, but just one. She projected.

Shanica closed her eyes and pictured the delicate flower in her mind, pink, seven petaled, and light green leaves with brightly colored stamen. The ones with the red stamen were the most potent, so since she was only going to create one she could give him the best. She put her mind into alpha, and started forming the picture of the flower in her creative lobe. She then put her hands parallel to each other approximately six centimeters apart. She formed the blue white sphere between her palms that would transform the image in her mind to solid reality. The flower appeared in a matter of seconds and she handed it to Tintle to enjoy.

An eerie orange glow encompassed the two as they slept on the edge of Contraphobe.

The light then changed, to blue white, then to green, to golden and back to orange again.

Shanica opened her eyes and gazed at the split moon and the stars. They always gave her a tranquil feeling. She rolled over to see if Tintle was still snoring away from the flower the night before, and was surprised to see that he was not there. She sat up and looked around. He was a few meters away peering intently into the icy blackness of Contraphobe.

What is it, Tintle? she projected. She got up and walked over to where the big Conda was standing.

I think I heard something. Came his reply.

What do you think it was? She curiously asked.

I don’t know. I’ve never heard anything like it before. He answered. The sound was similar to wind and water all mixed together, but then not like wind or waters either. He added. Tintle moved a little closer to the black gaping hole. I don’t hear it now, he thought puzzled. Maybe it was just my imagination. He concluded.

Shanica gave him a funny look. She didn’t know Condas had an imagination. She let

It go. Banda fruit? She asked. Tintle nodded. She pictured the fruit, blue skinned, juicy, sweet with a mushy center, and in a blink of an eye it had formed between her palms just as before.

There it is again. Tintle projected. Do you hear it? He asked as his long floppy ears

perked up.

She stepped closer to the edge and turned her head sideways. There was a noise

unlike anything she had heard before. It whirred ever so lightly and she had to strain

to hear anything at all. She dismissed it by thinking. It is probably just the wind,

Tintle. She added we will investigate it on our journey back.

Tintle knelt down and Shanica climbed on. They moved towards the north, still

searching for a spot narrow enough for Tintle to jump. They traveled for hours covering

over a hundred kilometers when Tintle finally stopped. He looked at the crevice intently

as if to calculate how wide it was.

Can you jump here? Shanica asked.

I hope so, Tintle timidly replied, Maybe if I get a good run at it. He added.

“Maybe?” Shanica said out loud her eyes wide open but before she could say anything else he turned and loped a good distance from the edge of Contraphobe. Shanica wrapped her arms around his long serpent like neck.

Hold on tight, he projected as he set those seven strong legs in motion. He reached out with all of them to get the fastest possible gait then right before the edge he crouched his three hind quarters and leapt extending to a full twenty meters long. But it wasn’t quite long enough. He managed to get three of his four front legs on the other side. Shanica dangled like a rag doll as Tintle struggled to get his footing. He tried scratching and clawing at the cliff face with his huge cat like claws. The slick obsidian wall started flaking away. They were loosing ground. Tintle was sweating, froth formed on his neck and flanks making his sleek fur slick. Shanica was starting to slip. She closed her eyes to attempt levitation. When she did, she missed seeing the large black Conda with a hooded rider come over the sand dune behind them. The rider lifted his hand. Tintle and Shanica were suddenly floating up to the edge as if there was no force trying to pull them down. Tintle got his large claws on the other side and the rider was gone.

You did it! Tintle exclaimed.

It did not happen the way it was described to me. She projected.

You must have done it, because we made it. He stated matter of factly in his mind. They both looked at each other and let out a long sigh. After a short mind chatter silence, Tintle projected, I always wondered what’s at the bottom of Contraphobe but I definitely don’t want to find out that way.

She didn’t have to mind think anything, the look on Shanica’s face told the whole story.