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Fic: Hatchling vision

Genre: This was inspired by a character in the MMORPG World of Warcraft. Readers should be able to appreciate it without any experience of that game.

Summary: A young woman speaks a vision to her tribe.

Author's Notes: I think this piece is best appreciated when read aloud, as I am experimenting with dialect. Role-playing is a particapatory artform! Any comments, in or out of character, are welcome.

A young woman rises at the edge of the firepit to address her tribe. Her proud braids are limp, and her tunic sweat-soaked; tokens of the frenzy of her dance this night. Her eyes fill with firelight as she speaks:

I be floatin in da warm waters o da Stagnant Oasis, when dis vision come o’er me and I be sinkin down, down, down.
Down thru da water
down thru da earth
down thru da rock
til I come ta rest in da black dark, buried in da musk a reptiles.

A tapping sound come ta me, and wit dat, somehows I be seein in da darkness. A nest be lyin gainst a wall a stone, filled wit 12 tiny lil eggs. Da eggs be rockin back an forth, as da lil ones inside da lil eggs struggle ta get out.
tap
tap
tap
crack
A crack showin now, on one a da eggs, and it be growin fast.

I sees da nose, den da eye, and a tiny blue serpent be lyin dere in da nest. It got wings, but dey too wet an too small to be usin, so dis brave lil one be
twistin
slitherin
crawlin
it way out da nest and cross da rock.

More a da serpents be breakin out a dey eggs, now, and I’s glad to watch em. A hatchin vision be
a good omen,
a birth omen,
a life omen.
Da new ones be huddling together in da nest, an I be wishin I had someting ta feed em.

Den a sound come. Dis not a sound ja hear wit da ears, but one ja feel in da bones. Taint got no words for what it be, but it sound like …
a scream a terror
a roar a rage
a hiss a madness
And o’er it all, a wail a despair echo thru me til dere no otha sound left in da world.

When it fade, da no-sound it left behind
pulse
pulse
pulse
Da hatchlings in dat nest turn and rip each otha to pieces, strikin and bleedin silent.

Da brave lil hatchling dat done make it out a da nest, he slither back, but too late. All he broodlings broken dead. In da center a da nest, in da middle a da blood and da flesh, he curl up on heself
tight
tight
tight
Den I wake, floatin in da warm waters of da Oasis.

Now, I taint one ta be messin wit da spirits. But when dey be speakin a clear message, ja best listen. Dat hatchling be needin a rescue, and I da one gonna bring he out a da
black dark
mad dark
echoin dark
I be savin dat hatchling and bring he up into da light.

The young woman steps back into the circle. She sinks onto her haunches and closes her eyes, ready to hear the words of her tribe