Saturday, December 12, 2015

Dawn on Jefferson: a Kiddo Sci fi Story (or something I wrote for my daughter)

 daughter with her hair cut :~(

 Chapter One:
"nnnn. Nooo. Go awaaaay." I burrow under the covers to try to hide. My hope is the covers will give me protection from the maniacal onslaught.

No luck.

Gooberface is trying to wake me up. This is so annoying. Gooberface burrowed through the covers to find my ear again and Gooberface's raspy tongue went to work on my ear again.

I flail around trying to make the twerp waking me up stop. There's an indignant 'merlp' as I flail around and he backs away. However, the blanket is off of me and Gooberface is halfway to victorious.

I can hear Gooberface purring with self satisfaction. This is more infuriating than I can put into words, at least this early in the morning, with a irritated wordless sound I grab the covers to pull them back over me.

Gooberface hisses as I mummify myself and pounces on me. Like a kitten on too much coffee, Gooberface bounces and pounces on my blanket log roll and tries to claw me to get me out of bed.

No luck for him! ha!

Comforters are pretty tough and thick these days and neo-cats claws are no match for modern technology! Ha! I giggle and Gooberface hisses his indignation again. I am supposed to be up and its his job to get me up today, obviously, but I am NOT getting up and now I am mocking him. This causes him to redouble his efforts and I know I shouldn't be getting as much pleasure out of this as I am, but, well, I am.

Uh oh. He's starting to spit. Had he been an adult, he'd be yelling at me now. This will not end wel...OUCH!

He found a way in and scratched my head. THAT CAT! THAT HURT! I bolt up right and reach to grab him. He's no bigger than a classic cat, but far smarter. He is, however, just as fast and he easily dodges my grasp. Again my indignant cry - I need to practice to get really good at them - and I am about to go after him...when Dad comes in.

"Come on, kiddo. Time to get up. You're taking too long and we won't be able to walk to school today unless you hurry up."

Its THAT day. Crud. I need to hurry. Otherwise it means going to school like all the other kids and I don't want to do that today. Only those in town get to walk to school normally and I like the distinction of being the only one not a townie to do so.

I clambered down from my bunk bed - all kids sleep in bunk beds! at least those who are smart - and started getting dressed. Shuck the PJs and stand staring at the dresser. What to pick? What to wear?

Well, there's what I wear when I get to school and there' what I wear over on the walk there. Leggings and shorts. A cute top. Brush the hair. Its long and infuriatingly cannot make up its mind whether its blonde or brown. At least its not red. I'd hate that. It's also long, which I like, except when I have to wash or brush or braid it. Like now.

Socks. Mustn't forget socks. I pull them on. Its a bit of effort. Everything these days is tougher than what Dad describes from when he was a kid. Harder to put on socks and harder for something to get through them. Or chew through them. And in our town, on our farm, that's pretty important. Then out of the room.

A hop, skip and jump and I'm in the kitchen. Dad's made eggs. He does them ok. Not as well as mom does, but they're edible. There's some coveted green chile at the table. Grown here - carefully! - and we roast them every year. They seeds are from New Mexico originally, some small town specifically. Dad can go on and ON about it. Where doesn't matter so much to me, just that they that taste good.

There's a side of bacon, a glass of juice and a glass of milk. Mom says he gives me too much to drink in the morning. I kinda agree. However, he's my Dad and what can you do? I start to eat and Gooberface mewls at me. Dork. Sneak him a bit of bacon when Dad's not looking. Snarffle it all down and to the bathroom.

Brush my teeth. Wash my face. Look in the mirror. I wish Dad'd let me use make up. When I am with Mom, no problem if I want. Not Dad. He'd rather his little girl would stay a little girl. HE says I ought to act my age and not grow up too fast. He just wants me to stay his baby. WHATEVER.

And I am ready to go. No looking for my little brother. He's with Mom today. Last night was a Daddy-daughter and a Mommy-son night. I meet Dad at the front door. We grab the outdoor clothes: thick and tough, something like leather, but tougher and synthetic. Pull on the coat. Zip it up. Dad's ready.

We open the inner door and do a quick look. Then we step through. Gooberface mewls a goodbye and we close the inner door. We do one last check, jacket sealed to pants. everything zipped. I check dad. He checks me. We're good. We have to be.

We open the outer door and he throws a drone up into the air. Its a bitty personal one. It arcs up and droops down before its mini rotors kick in. It sits and hovers above. Then it chirrups in our ears everything is good. We step out and onto the grass. The violet grass.

I look up. The two moons are amazing. They always are and always will be for me. Wayles and Hemmings. The sister moons. One dark, one light. The strange calls, the strange cries of morning, just another morning, on Jefferson, a world 165 light years away from Earth.

Hi! I'm Aurora and I am in the 6th grade on another planet around another star. Its nice to me you.

I wrote this for my daughter six weeks ago.  

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