Kiyama by Diana Kemp-Jones

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Diana Kemp-Jones

Short Stories

- Earth Day - 2223

Book Excerpts

- Kiyama
- Sisters of the Wind
- Subterranean Heartbeats

Kiyama (Book Excerpt)
by Diana Kemp-Jones

The Alternate Universe of Diana Kemp-Jones

Page 1 of 6

AWAKENING

Spectral eyes watched from the timelessness of the vast tank chamber. Imprisoned in their liquid tombs, the souls of the ancient Omoro kept vigil on the wondrous spectacle of their creation. Their voices whispered like the gentlest of breezes, their thoughts commingling. Below, in a mist-enshrouded chrysalis, their progeny slumbered. A precious creation of flesh and blood, a vital link to the past and the future, the time of awakening was drawing near.
An echo of anticipation and excitement rippled through the tanks as the blue mist gradually began to clear within the chrysalis. A shape emerged, a shape that brought tears of joy to the phantom audience. In the tank of one whose essence inhabited a lower level, long forgotten emotions sprang from the shadow of time. As he observed the awakening, memories of his world, his people and the love he held for his children filled his spirit with elation.
His jubilant voice rose and joined the welcoming chant of his kindred. Sparks of energy flickered in the tanks like legions of fantasmic butterflies. The millennia of waiting, the grinding tribulations of the past were quickly forgotten as a vision of hope and the shining promise of resurrection stirred before him.

CHAPTER 1

A golden tide of consciousness trickled into my mind. Darkened so long by the fog of oblivion, the concept of my own being did not come easily. A misty blue aurora infused me with life, awareness dawning on me with each passing breath. The rhythm I thought was the beating of my heart echoed from a distant place, the sensuous cadence somehow comforting. Voices ebbed and flowed like the surging ocean, the harmonious chanting embracing me with loving arms. I basked in its sublime glow and allowed myself to be nurtured by a wondrous sense of well being.
Images floated through my mind like the falling leaves of an alien landscape dimly etched in my awakening memory. A veil of light surrounded recollections of a gleaming lake, a child's smiling face, a crackling bonfire. My nostrils twitched to the musky smell of smoke and the perfume of nightbloomers. Yet lurking beyond was a writhing darkness that hurled images at me of cold, amphibious eyes, a sobbing woman and a ravaged landscape. The contradiction alarmed me. In the ancient world of my ancestors, conflict coexisted with harmony, pain coexisted with joy.
Words trembled on my lips but fell into silence. With a heaving sigh, I tentatively opened my eyes to the silken luminosity of the dissipating aurora, the focus sharpening, but not my immediate comprehension. The images vanished, but left lingering shadows in my mind. I stretched and flexed within the confines of the chrysalis that bore me, my limbs responding fluidly.
Curious, I explored the undiscovered terrain of my body. I reached out with long, graceful fingers and traced a pleasing undulation of lithe, supple muscles set off by gleaming ebony skin. Devoid of hair, the texture was so smooth it almost reflected the ambient light. Small, taut breasts thrust proudly upwards, my belly a flat plane. Slender hips flared into slightly protuberant buttocks. A mane of black wiry hair brushed my shoulders. I grasped its coarse fullness and felt its weight in my hands. An innate sense of womanhood infused me as I acknowledged my femininity.
A sensation against my skin no more than fleeting caresses drew my gaze. Indistinct, sexless faces entombed in spectral canyons of amniotic tanks watched as I shifted within the translucent boundary of the chrysalis. I felt no fear, only a persistent curiosity as I rose from a soft, pneumatic cushion. My questing hands touched a warm, resilient surface above me. It contracted like rippling water, startling me. Hesitantly, I reached for it again. The surface yielded to my fingers, its moist, gelatinous texture quivering. I placed my palms flat against it and felt a faint pulse beat through my skin.
A faint reflection stared back at me. Liquid black eyes gazed dreamily beneath delicately arched brows. I pressed my fingers to my face and with mild shock, realized I was looking at myself. Tracing a pattern across a flawless complexion, I savored the sensuous fullness of my lips, their slight upturn hinting at a wistful, secret smile. The swell of my nose was a subtle slope; my ears fine and sculpted.
I recoiled as something cool brushed against my shoulders. A vague sussuration rose in my mind. I turned to the watchful faces and shuddered at the tingling embrace of their directed energy. The power seemed contained mostly in their eyes; the remaining features nothing more than random etchings left to fade in the light. Phrases danced through my mind, the words at once familiar yet meaningless, the tongue a flowing, mellifluous chant.
A vaguely acrid odor of wood smoke merged into a gamy aroma tinged with heat-baked dust. I instinctively sniffed, though I knew the source did not emanate from the sterile walls surrounding me. Something flapped behind me. From my peripheral vision, I caught a phantom glimpse of a scarlet, winged creature. It uttered a lonely, phantom cry before it vanished into the glow of twin orbs rotating at the chamber's distant summit.

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