The Tumbas + Small Graces
99c for both. Stories of the worlds after Earth. BUY
Inside a dome called the Pearl, Rett is selected to be the next tumba master. To keep civilization from ruin, she must bond with her hatchlings and the tumbas must accept her. Triumph is a heartbeat away when the tumbas’ feral ancestors crash in through the dome and kill her golden herd. Can she bond with the wild ones? Or is her dusty red world doomed?
Rett knelt to the ground. Her lips brushed against blushing earth. The sun radiated up warmer than it fell from the heavens, the newly darkened earth reforming the frail rays into glory. She reveled in the tumbas’ sacred gift, inhaling the heat with care to avoid choking on redeemed dust. “Oh ever thanks, glorious tumbas.” She hoped they would accept her, that the long journey was not for naught.
Her solitary pilgrimage across the Pearl ended at the lane leading to the tumba master’s rectory. Across the sorrel plains stretched solid patches of sage, great multitudes of tumbas. The sight rallied Rett’s spirits. So many. The plants-turned-animals were her people’s lifeblood. Like herds of bison in the former world, the tumbas provided all. Most importantly the promise of a future and, for Rett, eternal fellowship. Alone no more.
Moving thunder, the tumbling briers loped from one patch of red chloride to the next distilling the noxious deposits into fertile soil and tending the earth into a more heat absorbent shade. Some day other things would grow in the betterment the tumbas created. BUY
After crash landing on an alien planet, Grace makes a small discovery that makes a big impact.
Grace screamed. Alone with no way back.
It was useless to hope for rescue. The mother ship wouldn’t risk all which remained of her world and her people to save her. Just her. She was one. Small. Not enough to matter in the grand scheme of her people’s future.
The pod bobbed in the eddies of heliospeheres, dark matter, solar winds and magnetospheres. It washed up against an off-hued planet of purples, tawdry yellows and burnt sienna. Instead of bouncing off like a pebble across the surface of a quiet pond, Grace’s pod found a way in. The planet shone as barely a speck. Futile against the vastness of the cosmos. How did she end up here over the gas giants and stars? No one would ever find her. Oh, she was doomed.
Down, down, down the capsule spun in a plume of smoke and flame. It raced toward ridges sharp and jagged. Then soared over a great expanse of lavender. The tiny vessel splashed down. The force battered vivid white. BUY