The first thing she noticed was a soothing breeze caressing across her cheek as tiny hairs stiffen on the back of her neck from the balmy breeze. Her large dark eyes opened seeing the sheepskin covered smoke vent in the center of her dried willow wickiup’s ceiling. Rolling to the left, her gaze fell towards the front of the hut and found a golden sunbeam warming its way through a crack between the circular doorway and its sheepskin covering. The beam strained towards her, but fell short lighting a small patch of ground a few feet from where she lay. After a quick surveillance of the small hut and realizing she was the last of her family to wake, Talya took a long stretch, and then kicked her blanket-skins into the air. Jumping up, she sprang past the beam and the sheepskin covered door out into the waiting warm morning sun. Just outside the hut’s entrance, she halted her spring and stared endlessly up into the immaculate turning sky with deep concentration, the hum buzzing in her ears.

In these times the simple village of Amala never held a population greater than three hundred and sixteen. The population included the melijils, elders, tradesman, wives, and children all who held an honest nonself-seeking love for each other. The whole village was built around a tabernacle that sat upon a hill directly in the center for the valley. The villagers all lived in humble huts called wickiups made out of dried willow leaves and branches. In total, there were one hundred and ten wickiups circling the tabernacle. The Ais’melijil’s wickiup was build outside the tabernacle’s northern wall, while the village representative’s wickiup sat to the south.

The rest of the village was split into twelve tribes representing the twelve sons of their founding father, Sud, or Am’ as the Virtuoso had renamed him. Each tribe consisted of one melijil acting as the tribe’s leader, and his wife, as well as four elders, and their wives. The sons of the elders were each born into their trade, and generally remained in their native tribe for their entire life. Usually in their twenties they would choose a woman from another tribe and marry, but wouldn’t conseve children until their early thirties. Each family was blessed with one son and one daughter; no more, no less. This is the way Amala had been ever since the forty eight sons of the “Twelve Sons” married their cousins and bore the “New Sons” almost one thousand years prior.

“Gleaming hurrah, daughter of Am’ and ‘Ala. Sleeping late I see,” a disembodied voice spoke breaking Talya from her deep observation of the firmament. Bring her eyes down to earth, she realized the voice belonged to Kiela’ra who was busy shredding the shucks from the corn like orifs a few meters away by her own wickiup with Talya’ra, Talya’s mother.

“Gleaming hurrah Kiela’ra, and ‘Rara, extol the Virtuoso for this beauteous day. Have you seen ‘Sefsef and Camdo? I was supposed go with them today,” Talya called back.

 “Talya, it’s almost a quarter-raised. They are already down by the pond,” her mother returned.

 “Iy iy! ‘Sefsef is going to be fuming.”

 “Your father is an understanding man. I’ve never seen him the least bit angry,” another woman said with a cheerful laugh as she pushed past the door-skin of Kiela’ra’s wickiup carrying another basket overflowing with unshucked orifs. “Besides, the sun is young. There’s still a full day of fishing, and cleaning the catches ahead. I know how much you love cleaning the catches, Talya,” the woman said wearing a bright smile, and braising the basket against the small bulge of her stomach that held one of Amala's greatest treasures. She let the basket drop to the ground before the other two women as a few orifs bounced out onto the grass matted ground.

“Gleaming hurrah, Aoife’ra,” said Talya with a curtsy.

 “Gleaming hurrah, to you as well, Talya,” Aoife’ra said with a slight bow. “Johano was looking for you earlier, but he went with Johano’sef to tend the sheep and prepare the chosen one for Grand Honor Day. He thought maybe you went off to meet the remembered elders,” she said as her eye’s grew stern.

“No…I…over slept,” Talya returned stooping her head as her cheeks warmed. After a moment she glanced up and watched as a smile burst onto Aoife’ra's face, and her mother playfully rolled her eyes at Aoife’ra's jest. A since of calmness overcame her, and she lifted her head. A sly grin bridged her two small cheeks as she said, “Well, if you see him, tell him I’ll be back later to continue schooling him in Furry Furry Rabbit.” With that, she sprang out of the small circle of wickiups and into the open eastern field. As she ran she heard them committing on her youthfully beautiful and her strong resemblance to her mother. She was sure her mother’s face was fleshed just as red as her own had been only moments prior.

She ran in the sparkling sunlight, with her head tilted back, and her arms outstretched gliding in the air pretending to soar like a bird. The dewed grass danced between her bare toes, and under her callused feet, as the air whistled in her ears, and the hum hummed happily.

Then it was gone. Replaced by a sudden coldness.

The first thing she noticed was a chilly breeze caressing across her cheek as tiny hairs stiffen on the back of her neck from a dank draft. Her large dark eyes opened seeing the sheepskin that covered the smoke vent in the center of her dried willow wickiup’s ceiling flapping violently in the wind. Rolling to the left, her gaze fell into the rest of the hut and discovered a dark sinister shadow that lay sprawled around the short walls. After a quick surveillance, and realizing she was all along in the wickiup, she though: This isn’t right. As she lay under her blanket-skin memories of what earlier transpired paced slowly back into her muzzy mind. She remembered Dovid’s wild dash, and Johano’s tackle. She remembered the insane look in Johano’s dark eyes, and how it grew as he twisted Dovid’s ankle tighter and tighter. She remembered how she screamed for Johano to stop, but how her scream seemed to not even make a sound.

Then she remembered the thing. The thing that came from nowhere. The thing that picked Johano up, and slammed him to the ground. She remembered the horror of its appearance, but the only visual that came into her mind were long slimy rope-like strands flapping from its bubble shaped head. The rest, in her mind, seemed to be hidden behind a hazy shadow. Then the most terrifying thing of all caused her heart to sink deep into her abdomen while at the same time caused it to shoot sharply into her throat. Right before the horrible thing attacked Johano, and even before Dovid ran past, the hum had vanished. Even now as she strained to hear it, to her almost panicky horror, there was nothing there but void.

The shadows that lay across her walls began to close in on her; seemed to be trying to smoother her. Throwing the blanket-skins off, she stumbled past the sheepskin-covered doorway and into the outside. For the first time in all of Talya’s life, she found herself heavily shivering. She looked to Kiela’ra’s wickiup and then the other two in her small tribal circle, but saw no one, and wondered for the first time how she had gotten back to the village from the eastern fields. There was an achy feeling beginning to grow in her stomach. Talya didn’t know what the feeling was, but it felt like her breakfast was trying to come back up the way it had gone down.

Making her way towards one of the huts, she discovered her legs felt like water making it almost impossible to walk. She staggered to the nearest hut, fell through the sheepskin-covered doorway flat onto her chest, and was greeted by a loud shriek. “Talya! What in the Brilliance…? Are you ok?” Pushing herself onto her hand and knees, she looked up and found Aoife’ra sitting against the wickiup’s far wall with someone in her arms. The feeling that here stomach was crawling its way up her esophagus to make an escape grew more and more intense causing her to grint her teeth so tightly she feared she might mash them into her gums. Then without warned it all passed and she let out a long relieving breathe as she stared blankly down at the worn dirt. After a moment she returned her eyes back to Aoife’ra whose whole body seemed to wear a look of horror.

Aoife’ra sat motionless as Talya, with quakey arms, pushed herself to her feet, and quivered slowly over to the pair. Johano lay nuzzled up in Aoife’ra’s lap pulled tightly against her robust pregnant stomach. He was as motionless as someone who had gone off to meet the remembered elders. A thin piece of cloth was tied loosely around his head as a dark red, almost black, substance dried deeply into it.

“Is he okay?” Talya asked keeping her gaze on his closed frozen eyes.

There was a long silence before Aoife’ra answered, “I don’t know. Blood come from his head like blood from a sheep. Your father and brother went and found you after Dovid ran back…Your father….I’ve never seen anyone so–” A loud commotion broke her off as it tore through the wickiup’s thin walls. After they shared a long open jawed look, Talya turned and wobbled outside.

The cold wind lightly slapped her the second she stepped past the hanging sheepskin. She watched as a small band of villagers, a few from her own tribe, make their way towards her. In the middle of the group was her father, Camdo’sef. She watched as he pounded his fist over and over again into his opened palm. Back in the field, Johano’s look of angry had scared her, but the look of angry that was twisting and distorting her father’s face now terrified her more than anything else she had experienced up to that day.

by Nicholas Diak

One minute Talya was sitting in the valley’s wavy green grass as her circular dark eyes scanned desperately within the swaying branches of the willow trees for a black flash that not long ago invaded her enjoyment of the rising sun, the next minute she was jolted to her feet with a sharp screech by two sudden hands that grasped her shoulders from behind. The screech was sharp and quick, but not loud enough to carry an echo back to the village. The realization of rolling laugher intertwined with her sudden outburst came apparent once her initial shock subsided. Spinning around, she discovered Johano splitting his sides in hysteria.

Anger began to bubble, like water on the verge of boiling, in her chest as she let out a loud, "What-!", but the anger quickly cooled and she froze her words before they grew more scorching. Letting out a long, slow sigh, she watched him overdramatically fall into the long grass and roll around nearly hyperventilating from his roaring glee. She cared very deeply for Johano, but not in a romantic sense. The love was pure and selfless; she would do anything or go to any length for him, and somewhere inside her she knew he retained the same feelings. They grew up in neighboring huts and shared a tight fellowship much like a brother and sister. Johano’s good qualities greatly out weighted the bad, but there was one that seemed at times, to Talya’s disliking, to overshadow them all. Johano’s never missed an opportunity to jest and this lead to one of his favorite activities; grabbing Talya while her back was turned. “Johano, why do you do that?” she slowly paced out calmly annoyed with warm pink cheeks and raised eyebrows.

A cocky grin curled up on his right cheek as he brushed his long dark bangs from his face. “To keep you on your toes,” he answered pushing himself up off the ground. This response was stale and cliché, and Talya had long given up trying to understand what it was she needed to be on her toes about. Any real trouble was the furthest thing from any Amalian mind; Talya, herself, didn’t really understand why Johano’s abrupt from behind seizes shocked her so badly. Deep down inside though she somewhat enjoyed it; somewhat enjoyed it the sudden increase of heart rate. “What are you doing out this far by yourself? A tengu could have gotten you,” he asked with a quick upward nod.

Talya’s large eyes dramatically rolled around in their sockets. “You know tengu only exist in the old outworld legends.” She turned away settling back down in the long valley grass with her eyes fixed on the approaching sun. The rays that shot past the mountainous peaks towards the heavens were many now, and their multitude continued to grow into a large collection painting the sky in bright gold. “And you know what I’m doing, Johano,” she sighed. Over the past few lunar cycles Johano seemed different. She felt their once close relationship slowing breaking apart, and wasn’t sure why. He just seemed unusual; seemed distant. Taking another deep breath, she strained her ears listening to the soothing vibrations of the hum. There was nothing to worry about; everything was in the hands of the Virtuoso.

A long awkward pause crept between them as she sat and he stood behind staring at the back of her head. She was about to tell him to sit down, when something on the high peak of Lida sparkled silver in the spiking rays. Quickly straining her eyes at the peak, the petite silver sparkle was quickly drowned out by the growing beams of light, and she was left wondering if it had only been in her imagination… similar to the black flash.

The black flash! she remembered. What had that been? Johano’s stealthily attack caused her to completely forget about it. And it was quickly stolen from her memory once again when the sun finally exploded between the nook of peaks Lida and Liva, and spending its warming brilliance down upon them. The sudden intensity caused their eyes to squint and their arms to fling up shielding the splendorous light. A since of tranquility and harmony over took them both, and the hum became so loud that it seemed to become a soprano choir of voices. “Wow, that never gets old,” Johano whisper behind her. Talya closed her eyes soaking in every moment of the experience that seemed to last an eternity. And then it stopped.

The hum stopped.

Her hears rang from the absence of the chorus. She felt as if someone had thrown her into a lake of freezing water while she soundly slept. Her glassy eyes opened and looked around at the world for what seemed like the first time; like there had been a flitter covering her eyes all her life, and now she was seeing things in their naked form. Everything seemed insanely real. The valley looked dark and cold. The sun didn’t seem to be as bright. The grass didn’t seem to be as green. The peaks didn’t seem as– “What just hap…,” Johano breathed more than said. Talya held no answer. All she knew was something was deafly wrong.

Then out of nowhere, a new flash moved swiftly in their immediate foreground, blotting out the light for a brief moment, causing both Talya and Johano to shrill back. The flash shot behind them as they spun to see what it was. "Dovid! What in the world!?" Johano shouted. Their close friend, Dovid, was running back towards the village like one of Johano’s tengu were hot on his ankles as his long blonde hair flapped behind him trying to keep up. Dovid made no sign of noticing them in the grass, let alone hearing Johano's bark. Johano yelled once again then sprang after Dovid in a short sprint. Dovid let out a sharp cry as he was tackled into the wet grass. With a quick kick he thrusted his heel into Johano’s sternum, sending him flat on his back. Johano recovered quickly and grabbed Dovid by his ankle knocking him face first to the ground. Talya shrieked in horror watching violence like she had never seen before. Not even in the Ku’dor games. It reminder her of the time she saw Johano’s father chase down a rogue sheep. But that had been a sheep, not another Tselem. She cried for Johano to stop, but he was more concerned with keeping Dovid from kicking him again. Grabbing Dovid’s other ankle, he stop him from standing back up. "What's with ya, Dovid?!" Johano demanded.

"I have to go!" He cried in protest, "I have to warn them!" 

"Warn who?! What are you talkin' about?!"

"I can't...I can't tell you!" 

"Why not!!?"

"Because I -" Johano squeezed his ankle causing Dovid’s words to break as he cried out. Talya saw a fire burn inside Johano’s eyes as he squeezed Dovid’s ankle even harder a second time.  

“Tell me!!” Johano demanded.

“Stop, Johano, please!” Talya pleaded. Then from behind, Johano heard Talya screech another blood piercing scream, and then before he knew it, he was picked up by the ribs and thrown hard onto the ground into darkness.

Click here to continue to Flashisode 4: What Once Was and What Now Is

by Nicholas Diak

This is the story of Cindaleeand how this dazzling and superb world realized its astonishing and exceptionalend.

           You may have heard tales about places that cannot be found on any map or traveled to by foot, ship, or wing. Maybe your parents, as they tucked you away for the night, told you of such places that even for a child took somestretching in the imagination sector of the brain to believe. Or maybe it was that silly old uncle who perched you upon his knee at parties and recanted these extravagant and eccentric worlds to you. The place in this story lays tuckedtightly away under one of the many manifolds of space and is hidden far away in a bind of time. White bearded men who wear their knowledge on the sleeves of their brown suede jackets would call it Bind 270. But the inhabitants knew it as Cindalee.

The tale begins much like most other tales; it begins at its beginning. And in the beginning, the Virtuoso spoke and so it was. His word shaped, and fashioned the blanket of stars and space separating the light from the dark. And by separating the water fromland, he molded Cindalee’s earth. From that earth, the Virtuoso spoke and out sprouted plants of every kind and variety; both tall, small, and everywhere in-between. His vocal vibrations sculpted the mobile creatures in a plethora of variety. Anywhere from the hulking behe'ermounts that roamed in the marshy southern bogs, to the minuscule grasshix that scurried low beneath the southern forest’s under-story; from the lateviales that could only be found far blow bathing on the cold ocean’s floor, to the Tselems whose descendents would one day be found scattered all across Cindalee’s vast array of terrain. But for now, two of each he made. The Tselems were commissioned by the Virtuoso, and held a very special place in his perpetual heart. They were his final work, his masterpiece, his crowning achievement. And he charged them with the care of Cindalee; they were the overseers of everything in the visible realm.

The stars and space, the sea and ground, the plants and animals, and of course the Tselems all made up the Virtuoso’s magnum opus he proudly named the Brilliance, and he called it all very good.

Inits entirety, the Brilliance was inclusively good, pure, and holy, and theVirtuoso was very pleased with its outturn. There existed a beautiful andindescribable harmony that held the Brilliance and the Virtuoso intertwinedtogether. But sadly, like most other tales, there came an unfortunate turn ofevents. There came the Black Virus. The Black Virus fell upon all theBrilliance for one of two reasons: the first being, the ever so diabolic, yetsedative deceptions of The-One-Who’s-Name-Shan’t-Be-Written-Nor-Uttered; whilethe second being the Tselems’ very own hemorrhaging narcissism. Before theVirus, the Brilliance was like an immaculate glass of crystal clear water;fully clean, and fully pure. But when the Black Virus came, it plunged in likea single drop of liquid dye that polluted and stained all the water black ascoal. Because the Virtuoso was pure and holy, and the Brilliance was nowspoiled and afflicted. The once great harmony broke and transformed into athick, impassable wall-like existence known as the Great Gash. It wasn’t longbefore Death found its rancid place among the land, sea, and stars, and warsspewed far across the wide terrain bringing great grief and anguish to the farreaching corners of Cindalee.

Andtime spun on at a seemingly ever increasing pace, and many other worthy talesbrought the world to its final chapter. When the end finally came, there wasonly one unblemished spot that still held righteousness in the eyes of theVirtuoso. The place was high upon a collapsed volcano’s wondrous concave knownas Amala.

Click here to continue to Flashisode 2: Rays of the Coming Sun