The Children of Petra: Chapter 1

Hello friends!

As many of you may know, I have multiple unpublished manuscripts. Some are novels, many are plays, and many I'm transforming into screenplays. I wanted to be sure to share chapter 1 of my two novels with you to catch your eye. What do you think will happen next?

Should I continue posting chapters, or can you help me get traction to officially publish my features? Only time will tell!

Enjoy!

The Children of Petra:

Synopsis: Petra was a dead, desolate orbit; at least that is what mortals would say as they reached towards a new galaxy, hoping for sanctuary. As battles rage on for resources that were once plentiful, two lovers, reminiscent of the sun and the moon, fall in and out of love, scraping for something that was once near and beautiful. Meanwhile, Oracles predict the rise and fall of the future, and a young leader tries to revive a greenhouse that still remains on the orbit of Petra. There are new universes to discover, new orbits to hope for, but at the end of an evening, is it worth more than a place to call home? Or rather, is it worth more than a place ancestors once called home? 

Chapter I: Moonchild’s Homecoming

Orbit: Alkaid Orbit

Ursa 444

Time is by far elusive as the change it carries. It spreads like fire until the entire planet has shifted. Most often, it is slow, like the tide reaching out from under itself, reaching for the Moon’s starflakes, but only reaching the sand. As the tide looks up into the great beyond, the landscape has entirely shifted, oftentimes not being any wiser for it.

Moonchild had a loving, supportive childhood. Their mother did all that they could to support the family and make their home a warm, loving place without a Moonfather. However, even with the cushions on the couch, the shiny staircase, and the well-stocked bar and pantry, everything now seemed so numbing. It had been many orbits, many years, since Moonchild returned to the place of their childhood. Moonchild had long, beautiful hair. They often wrapped it practically. Their frame was soft. Their eyes, kind and honest, tender and sensitive. 

Ever since ‘The Great Leaving of Petra,’ dear mortals could no longer anticipate days, months, or seasons in the same way. Leaving one’s original orbit was debilitating. Circadian rhythms were broken. The young would forget when to sleep, growing irritated by each passing moment. The old would start to forget more and more without a familiar atmosphere. Traveling through time and space, Moonchild’s ancestors found their way to the Ursa 444 orbit. It was relatively tranquil and safe, compared to the rest of the galaxy that had already been explored. In this time space continuum, time was counted by orbits. Space was counted by orbits. Linguistically, it added to the communication confusions and distances since the Great Leaving. Linguistically, every mortal was still tied to Petra, all the while believing they were starkly different to other orbits. No orbit could keep up with the other in communication, let alone communication shifts. Formal names, such as Petra, Ursa, and Mab were designated in all regulated intergalactic maps in order to encourage acceptable traveler communication. However, the names were never formally accepted by all. As time passed, most archaic names were left in the dust, but not always, as every community had their own thoughts and opinions. Ursa 444, Mab, Arthur, and Titan were the four orbits that had the most say in the intergalactic cartography as they were the four that regulated some level of intergalactic travel. Petra’s Orbit seemed just as archaic as the old names hardly ever uttered. It felt like an old language that lived with the ghosts of the past. 

Engineers and scientists from Mab were hoping to build an intergalactic telegraph, inspired by their formal history. However, with the disorientation through time and space, it seemed impossible. If they only could find a way to connect to space-time, perhaps then. If they could connect to that, perhaps mortals could travel by the speed of light as well. That would usher in a new age full of new discoveries. Once in a while the engineers, physicists, and members in this varied sciences team felt close, but it was still a dream in a dark, foreboding wishing well. 

When food was scarce, which happened seasonally in most orbits, it was always easier to find someone to hate. Except for small pockets of warm entryways and happy moments, everything felt like a moment of survival. Subconsciously, mortals still dearly missed Petra, although generations had passed. It was like being only born with eight fingers, only knowing those eight, and yet still feeling like something was not where it should be. The Great Leaving haunted every individual. Literature, music, and art of that time brought each mortal to their knees. It was a likeness that resonated with every psyche. There was a depth that was difficult to put into words. There was a fear, a loss, that remained in every cornea as well. Sometimes the universe felt very cold. 

When it was cold, Moonchild had always pulled Sunchild a bit closer. Sunchild had always been there. They had grown up together in the northernmost region of Ursa. The Moon had that sort of magnetism about their aura - and a gorgeous head of hair that made everyone turn to smile in their direction. It was their hair that they believed made them pulchritudinous. 

Moonchild’s family originated from the realm of Petra, just like any other mortal. Most of the Moon family had lived in Ursa 444 for many generations, while a few mothers found stability in this orbit rather recently. Moonchild grew up safely, although the galaxies were still plagued with turmoil. It was a great fortune to only see hunger and tumultuous chaos after being stationed as a healer during Titan’s most recent invasions. 

After traveling, Moonchild’s circadian rhythm was off. They were drowsy, hungry, and homesick. It was only natural. 

‘Was a homecoming right?,’ Moonchild wondered, but there was nowhere else to go. The front door creaked open. The old key that had sat untouched for a long while in a jacket pocket met the front door as if nothing had changed. 

Moonchild entered the home with something different in their eyes. Newest experiences had fixed their face to a sterner view. Instead of holding unending hope and joy, Moonchild carried an aid rucksack in their arms. War hardened even the softest of hearts. 

“Mom?” Moonchild said, looking around a place that used to feel familiar. “Mom?! I’m home.”

Moonmother, who had been restocking supplies and baking breadcakes. There was something special in the way the dough was kneaded by a loved one. Turning the dough by quarters, folding, and kneading. Turning, folding, kneading. Turning, folding, kneading. If it was successful, nothing would be left of it the next day. It was an endless cycle that kept stomachs full. It was something that was always there and yet underappreciated until it was missing. It was something that had always existed in Moonchild’s home. 

Moonmother ran through the pantry doorway straight for Moonchild. “Oh! My baby Luna! Are you alright? Do you need food? How was your journey?” All of these questions released a tide of overwhelming kindness. Moonmother looked the same. They had aged well. Their eyes were fierce, their figure was angular, but there was a softness in the way they traversed through life. 

“My journey,” they paused, staring at the floor. “As safe as it could be. I’m fine.” 

Moonmother wanted to feed their baby. “I made breadcakes.” 

Moonchild set the aid rucksack on the couch. “Thanks, mom.” There was a pause. “I-I- is Sunchild back yet?”

Moonmother didn’t want to worry Moonchild. They hid their concern in a warm smile. “Oh, I don’t know, love. They should be back any day now.” Moonmother coughed and changed the subject. “How is the warfront near Orionis orbit?” 

“The militias were surprisingly respectful of the civilians there. I did my job in treating Mortal’s wounds. But…” there was a pause. “I heard it was far worse near Polaris. 

“Oh, dear.” Pauses permeated the walls. 

“Oh, Moonmother. I’m so glad we have a vow of peacefulness. I could never see myself on the frontlines… like having to kill a stranger I don’t even know that is trying to kill me too.” Moonchild took a breath and brushed the front of their work robes. “Have you heard from Sunchild at all? Are they alright?” 

Moonmother looked away. “I’m sure we’ll hear from them soon.” 

“I haven’t received a letter from them in a while.” 

“Did any of your letters get sent back?” 

“No.” 

“Well, maybe they ran out of paper.” Moonmother smiled, but the eyes did not glitter with hope. 

Over the past year, Moonchild allowed anxiety to rest on their chest. Some days it sat there unperturbed and nearly unnoticed. However, on days where the pressure was intense, feeling helplessly unknowledgeable in the complexities of the future made things even worse. “What if they died and we have no idea? I wouldn’t be able to sleep. What if they are missing and we have no idea where Sunchild is or what if Sunchild is a prisoner of war. Oh…” Moonchild had forgotten what a good night's sleep felt like.

Moonmother sat next to their child. “I know you love them. Have faith. Everything will be okay. Pray about it if you need to.” 

Moonchild tried to not judge their mother’s kind words. These phrases Moonmother had lying on the tongue used to be consoling, but they no longer met the mark. Moonmother had not seen what Moonchild saw. The worries, feelings, and actions were unknown to their mother. Sure, Moonmother had good intuition, but intuition did not lie in the same way as experience. For the time being, prayers felt inadequate. 

“Moonmother... you haven’t see the battles...what they are like out there in the galaxy...what you know of me or of Sunchild... You have no idea... And Sunchild- beautiful, cheery Sunchild was in the heart of it all, in the worst battle we have seen in a millennia and we haven’t heard from them. We only know they were there because-“ 

“I know.” 

“- because of the official letter that said where they would be stationed.” 

The way Moonmother began to respond was somewhere between frustration and a soothing effort. “I know! I know.” 

 “How dare Titan attack any region they so choose…the star leaders…the governmental instability! Fighting like children and killing Mortals in the process. That’s what got us here in the first place. I only have so many bandages to wrap around Mortals! And now I lost my Sunchild!” 

“Oh, baby Luna, dear.” Moonmother embraced their child with the kind of hug only mothers can give. 

--- To Be Continued... ---