Elizabeth felt the tromping of the men’s boots reverberating in her ribcage long after they vanished down the long double ribbon of highway that stretched onto the horizon. She felt their absence with each boot landing in unison, each forthcoming loss ringing in her chest where her heart should have rested.
“Clockwork precision,” OctoBot murmured, wrapping a tentacle around her shoulder. “Their steps, your heart. Both strong. Hold firm, apprentice.”
She dropped her hand from where she’d held it pressed to her chest with a guilty twinge. Control of her expressed emotions was paramount. Mannerisms that should have been ingrained by now, but her wrinkled cravat told another story, one she would take pains to hide this evening when she returned home. She tucked the crumpled fabric into her corset, heedless of observers or further damage.
“Come now.” OcotBot’s gentle voice concealed piercing insight from casual observers, a fact Elizabeth had discovered within several hours of beginning her apprenticeship. “The balcony isn’t safe.”
A tentacle drifted upward, and Elizabeth let her eyes follow, finally tearing them away from where the soldiers had marched to war.
Above their heads, angular dots annoyed an enormous oval, biplanes pecking at the airship protecting the city like jays chasing a hawk. Faint flashes of light came before the buzzing and faint sirens penetrated her consciousness.
“Come,” OctoBot repeated, and wrapped several tentacles around the girl’s waist to pull her inside the factory.
***
Something I’m playing with, inspired by Leigh Kimmel: The long double ribbon of highway stretched on to the horizon — and overhead an airship battled a swarm of biplanes.
My prompt went to Becky Jones: “As if average means anything to those of us who are odd,” she perused aloud, “except perhaps to determine how far outside it we might venture.”
Check more out over at MOTE!
