I am over half way through my ‘Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes’ writing exercises. The exercise is exactly what it says- I have ten minutes to expand on one of ten prompts from my Narrative Prompts post. Week six is a dialogue narrative prompt.
“This is fantastic. Do you know what this means?”
“It means I have finally gone insane. It was only a matter of time.”
“No, it means that Mum was telling the truth. Our Dad wasn’t technically a human.”
Jeez, Kai can be such an idiot sometimes. How can he find this even remotely advantageous? Fantastic is not a word I’d associate with our current situation. I hit him around the back of the head, and he just stares at me in shock.
“Take that stupid grin off of your face, wake up, and listen to what you’re saying. If Dad was… if Dad was an…”
“Say the word, Sadie. Alien. I think it’s you who needs to wake up. This shit is real and we’re slap bang in the middle of it.”
I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. “It also means that when we get tested, we’ll be carted off to the same place they took the Harrow brothers, and they’ve not been seen since. The government are scared Kai, I’m scared too. Are we aliens? What will happen to us?”
Kai throws an arm over my shoulder. “Have I ever let anything bad happen to you? We avoid the testing, and head to Grandpa’s cottage while we figure out what’s going on. I can’t explain it, but I have a feeling that we’re going to be alright.”
The room illuminates in a brilliant light, and popping noises of people teleporting fill the silence. Feet thunder up the driveway outside, and we have no time to react. We stand glued to the spot, staring at the door.
“It’s the army,” Kai whispers, gripping my hand. His confidence is quickly replaced with a shaking fear.
The door flies open and numerous figures file into the house. My eyes try to acclimatise to the immense light framing them. The last figure enters and shuts the door, turning on the light.
“Hey kids.” My Dad stands face to face with us. He hasn’t aged at all. What has it been- eight, nine years? Death has been good to him.
“Daddy,” I gasp, running into his arms. He lifts me off my feet, crushing me in a bear hug. He still smells exactly as I remember; soap and leather fill my nose, bringing tears to my eyes.
“Look at you, my little lady. You’re so beautiful. Happy sixteenth birthday for yesterday,” he says, grinning. Lowering me to my feet, he looks to Kai, opening his arm to him, but Kai steps backward.
“So, you’re not dead? Thanks for the heads up, Luca.” His use of Dad’s first name jars with me. He is hurting and confused, I understand that, but Dad’s alive.
“I’m sorry, Son, but it had to be this way. You’ll understand soon enough. Come on, wake your mother, we need to go,” Dad says, leading me out of the house.
I stop, craning my head to meet his eyes. “Mum’s dead, Dad.” He staggers a little. “We lost her nine months ago to breast cancer.”
He rubs his hand over his beard. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”
I shrug. “Kai’s been looking out for me. He’s my legal guardian now.”
Dad looks at Kai like he’s seeing him for the first time. I can feel the pride and love oozing from his pores.
Kai barges passed us, and stares up into the night sky. “So, is that our ride?”
A shuttle hovers silently above us. It’s unlike any of the military shuttles I have seen before. It’s old, tattered, and no bigger than an Atmos Bus. Anxiety at boarding it grips at my chest, but if my Dad says we’re getting on that thing, we’re getting on it. Kai is already clipping on a port cuff, and vanishes before my eyes.
All works are the property of K.J.Chapman