Firedrop garnish, p.1
Firedrop Garnish, page 1
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Fallen Stardust: A boy, an outcast and an alien must find salvation in a world of ruin. Samuel must find a medicine to cure the fever ravaging his village. Markus must find the motive that murdered those he loved. And an angel must find a future in a city crumbled into debris. But something lurks beneath the wasted world, and waking it may doom what little of humanity survives.
The Sisters Will Dance: Blaine Woosely claws his way back to the living. He has cleaned his blood of his addiction, and an unexpected, family farm home rewards his efforts. Only, the country acres isolate Blaine when a sharp-toothed monster hunts to bring Blaine back to dark. The sad history of Blaine's blood brings magic to the country home's new master, but in the end, only Blaine himself can break his chains.
Mr. Hancock’s Signature: The dead walk in Monteray. The corpse of a nearly forgotten farmer named Hancock arrives via train. Ian Washington remembers Mr. Hancock and vows to return the body home. Yet Mr. Hancock's body will not rest while Ian works to reopen a cemetery, and the corpse staring each morning upon the doorstep forces the town to choose between the isolation of their fear or the hope of their fellowship.
Firedrop Garnish
Brian S. Wheeler
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Brian S. Wheeler
Firedrop Garnish
Contents
Chapter 1 – A Proper Paring Knife
Chapter 2 – Invisible Death
Chapter 3 – Prayers While Dropping
Chapter 4 – Harvesting the Alien Field
Chapter 5 – Waiting
Chapter 6 – The Return Home
Chapter 7 – A Failed Delivery
Chapter 8 – Long, Restless Lines
Chapter 9 – Dinner Party
Chapter 10 – A Veteran Alien
Help Spread the Story
About the Writer
Other Stories
Chapter 1 – A Proper Paring Knife...
"Tell me again how much you paid for that paring knife."
Stephanie frowned at her mother. "It's not a pairing knife. It's no knife used to just peel a peach. This knife is designed especially for the firedrop."
Lauren laughed at her daughter. "Well, I suppose saying it's for slicing firedrop justifies the expense. Suppose I'll have to trust you. I still can't understand all the rage about that alien weed. They tell me that firedrop doesn't even have any taste. Maybe I'm too old to understand why everyone is so obsessed to put something on their plate that doesn't have a single calorie and no nutritional value. Why not just crowd our plates with tissue paper?"
Stephanie did not turn her attention from the window over the kitchen sink that afforded a view of her home's drive. Looking back at her mother would only encourage Lauren to continue arguing.
"It's not meant to be sustenance," Stephanie grumbled.
"Is it just the way it glows, Steph? Is that it?"
"There's more to it than that."
Lauren scoffed. "Still seems like a terrible waste of money to me. Money wasn't so easy to come by when your father and I raised you. It was harder then, when people still carried cash and coin instead of all the plastic cards. I wonder sometimes if you realize the real cost of things."
Stephanie reminded herself that her mother only cared for her. Stephanie had been an only child, so it was natural for her mother to fret over the silliest of concerns. Looking out of that window above the sink reminded Stephanie that a woman could not control everything. It was her mother's problem if she wanted to take all her anxiety out on the firedrop.
Stephanie believed she had a very good idea of the firedrop's expense. Nothing in the preparation, presentation or consumption of firedrop was affordable. She understood that it must have been difficult to harvest that glowing growth some thirty or more light years from Earth. She knew enough to realize that none of the starships, the equipment and the men required to harvest were free. And Stephanie remembered where she came from, recalled how hard her mother and father had toiled to fill her plate, to provide a shelter over her head, to lift her above the pubic school in favor of a private academy. Stephanie rose from a proud and simple family. Of course her mother would struggle to understand the allure, the implication, delivered upon a plate well-garnished with the firedrop.
But didn't Stephanie and her husband Paul deserve to indulge in the firedrop? Had they not earned the opportunity to decorate their plates with the glowing, pulsating crimson and gold delicacy? Had they not scrimped and saved? Had they not been disciplined with their finances? Had they not sacrificed? They both held firm to their demanding jobs. They had not taken vacations. They had burned much midnight oil. For almost twenty years, they had chosen salaries over children. For two decades they had given so a night would come when they would serve the firedrop.
Stephanie smiled as she waited to see the beams from Paul's automobile headlights turn into their drive. Could her mother not understand how to deny the firedrop now, after having given so much for it, would make a mockery of all of her and Paul's efforts?
"How many did you say are coming to your dinner party?" Lauren shifted at the table, twirling a spoon in a mug of coffee.
"There'll be five of us, counting Paul and I."
Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem like a lot of people. Seeing how much you two gave up for it."
"Are you saying you feel left out?"
Lauren shrugged. "A mother only wants to feel a part of the family. And there's not much family left after your father's passing. Not like there's going to be any more."
Stephanie sighed. She refused to allow her mother cloud the day she finally realized the firedrop.
"You just old me that you didn't understand any of the excitement concerning the firedrop. You just told me you didn't care for it at all."
"I only want to understand this thing that has so shaped my daughter."
Stephanie knew of no one as adept at wielding cutting guilt as her mother. Stephanie had been raised surrounded by that guilt, surrounded by her mother's hunger for pity. Stephanie had hardened her heart against whatever guilt Lauren pulsed from the kitchen table.
"We won't have enough firedrop for you," Stephanie turned and stared into her mother's eyes, "but I'll set a place for you at the table. You'll be able to see the firedrop glow. Maybe then you'll start to understand what it's all about."
Lauren said nothing in response. She sipped from her coffee, and Stephanie knew that for the moment her mother had been satisfied.
"What's taking Paul so long?" Stephanie turned back to the window. "Perhaps I shouldn't have made him purchase a new, self-piloting vehicle last summer. The old roadways are so much less congested compared to the automatic superhighways. I hope he's not stuck in traffic, with the firedrop wilting in some plastic sack. I hope nothing's gone wrong."
Paul's headlights finally appeared several hours laters, leaving Stephanie ample time to clean and dry the best china and plates, to polish the silverware, to fold napkins into origami, white swans.
Paul stomped from the garage into the mudroom. Stephanie wanted to rush to him, to grab him and demand to look upon the firedrop. But fear held her back. She had heard her husband slam the car door, stomp into the home, throw his coat upon the ground. What did it mean if he returned in a sour mood? What if he had failed to bring the firedrop home?
Paul burst into the kitchen, a smile stretching one ear to the next.
"I have it! I have it!"
Stephanie jumped into his arms. She planted kisses on his cheeks. Her head fell upon his shoulders and she sobbed.
"Careful, Steph." Paul grunted and squirmed. "The firedrop's in this cardboard box. Don't smash it."
Stephanie gasped and jumped away from her husband. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
Lauren chuckled. "Wouldn't that be something. That firedrop traveling all this way and getting smashed in this small kitchen at the end of its journey."
"The box is fine," Paul smiled stiffly at his mother-in-law. "I had no idea how long it would take to get hold of the firedrop today. I was at the tent market on the outskirts of the spaceport before dawn this morning, and there was already lines snaking around the streets. Watching those capsules dropped from the starships burn their way back down through the atmosphere like comets was really something. Everyone cheered as they landed, and the lines went wild. I know, we've all seen those landings a hundred times before on television, but all those plumes were just amazing in person."
Lauren's face paled. "You've all gone mad. What would happen to those tents, to all those people, if one of those capsules exploded? It's happened more than once. Why, the entire market would vanish in flames. Think of all the fuel stored in those spaceports. I tremble to imagine the mushroom cloud."
"Everyone jostled in that line the moment the first capsule touched down, Steph. You just can't be afraid to elbow and kick if you want to defend your place in the line. They had armed security teeming all over the place to let us know they meant business. It took them hours to unload the firedrop from the capsules, and that line was restless as it waited until afternoon to start inching forward. But I stayed with it. I didn't let anyone shove me a single step back in that line. We've worked too hard for it. Saved too much. I wish I'd remember to bring a camera so you could've seen a picture of all that firedrop sparkling in those piles by the time the line moved me beneath those market tents. It was like it was Christmas, and I was a boy, all over again."
Lauren frowned. "I miss those Christmases when you were young, Steph."
"I waited it out Steph," Paul pushed ahead. "I was worried there wouldn't be any firedrop left by the time I reached the vendor. But the vendor had one ready in this box with our name written on the side. Our name's never looked so good in ink. I didn't dare drive a mile over the speed limit all the way back home. I didn't want to get pulled over on this of all nights. I have it, Steph. Our dinner party is going to be incredible."
Stephanie wrung her hands. "Have you looked at it?"
"I resisted," Paul grinned. "The seal's still on the box."
"Let's look at it. Let's make sure we got a good one, with lots of color and glow."
Paul nodded. "But only for a moment, Steph. Then we'll get it in the refrigerator like they say you should to make sure it keeps its sparkle. It'll be incredible tomorrow night."
Stephanie beamed. "It will be wonderful."
Paul carefully broke the cardboard box's seal. With shaking hands, he opened the box and a glow of crimson light flooded into the room, accented by shimmering, golden pulses that winked and reflected off the kitchen windows and off the appliances' chrome. Paul and Stephanie felt their feet float from the ground.
Lauren could not deny her curiosity when she looked at the joy spreading across Paul and Stephanie's faces. She walked to the edge of the box and whistled.
"I"ll be damned," and Lauren returned her attention to her cooling coffee.
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