1. Butterfly Beach I : The Wreck of the Golden Dove or the Consequences of Unfamiliar Fruit.


    Date: 9/27/2015, Categories: Fantasy & Sci-Fi, Author: sprite, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    imagine. Insects, too, are larger than they have any right to be, something which does plague us from time to time when something resembling a wasp takes too great an interest in our activities and has to be beaten off with a rod fashioned from either salvage or the local flora. It is this fact, more than any other, they keeps us from venturing far from the beach. And then, there are the butterflies, the smallest of which have wings the size of my spread hands, the largest dwarfing even Jaspar’s, and made up of colors I have not even names for. Had I the luxury, I would sit and watch the majestic creatures flutter from flower to flower from noon until twilight. They are the reason we have begun to call this small stretch of real estate Butterfly Beach. Emma and I are both thankful that not a soul has spotted any creatures of the arachnid persuasion. I can only imagine what monstrosities they would be given the size of the other insects and it leaves me with waking nightmares from time to time. The birds, however, are delightful. Brightly colored and knowledgeable in a variety of musical notes and sounds, creating discordant yet delightful symphonies in the morning and evening hours when they seem most active. Strangely, there have been no sightings of the mammalian population, although we are sure one must exist, nor anything even vaguely reptilian. Hopefully, rescue or, at the very least, a reuniting with the other survivors comes soon. Until then, I will do my best to ...
    chronicle our experiences knowing that the professor would expect nothing less of me as I am, despite our circumstances, still in his employ. Olivia Delacroix. June the 16 th in the year of our lord, 1867. oOo “Come, have a look at this, Livie!” Emma called out to me as she made her way through thick blades of chartreuse grass, her auburn hair blowing about her face as the evening winds began to blow in earnest. Although I observed that she held something within the cupped palms of her hands, what it might be I could not say, other than it seemed to excite her immeasurably. Behind her James and Bull (although it was an odd thing one of my gender to call a man, it seemed more comfortable on my tongue than his given name) followed closely behind, both armed, James with the revolver and military saber that had survived with him and Bull with a large club of wood that looked deceptively small in his massive hand. Had we been elsewhere, I would have had to gather my skirts to maneuver through the overgrown fauna overlooking the beach. Like her, I was dressed in the skimpiest of garments. Had we been back in civilized lands we’d have been labeled as scandalous, or worse, but on Butterfly Beach, necessity had done away with such concerns, leaving us both learning to be comfortable with tattered camisoles and petticoats to hide our undergarments from the eyes of our male companions as best they could. Curious, I hurried over to her, brushing my blonde tangles impatiently from my face as I ...
«1234...6»