Space Island

By Ruth Steiner

Memories are funny things. When you’re a kid, just a boy, and you find yourself alone, you wish you had some good ones. The alternative is what? Not knowing who you are, where you came from, not knowing your own name, not knowing where you live. Hiding because you’re a scared little boy left alone to fend for yourself, responsible for you own survival. You know you’re not alone, you sense it, and eventually you spot them, beings in the distance. You don’t know if they are harmful or friendly and you find yourself wishing you could remember something, anything. You hide, but... you eat from the land, you shelter off the land, you survive, and you think. You think hard and you try to remember... and little bits and pieces do start to come back. You think if you can just get going, start exploring your surroundings, it will all come back. Maybe a little at a time, but... but you can’t go anywhere to explore, because THEY are out there. Who are THEY? You don’t know, but maybe... maybe THEY can help you remember. Maybe...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Steiner
• Release date: Nov 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005113360

Ruth Steiner

Ruth is an experienced science fiction buff and has finally decided to put her interesting ideas to paper (and screen). Follow Ruth as she explores new worlds and old places in time and even alternate dimensions of the mind. Ruth is a semi-retired business owner from rural Wisconsin now living in Florida and enjoys writing by the sea. Ruth has great potential in the science fiction field so don't miss any of her current and upcoming material.

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Space Island

An out-of-this-world tale

as told by

Ruth Steiner

Published by

Lucky Lamb Publications, Port Orange, FL

Edited by

Larry S. Gray

© 2022

All rights reserved

SPACE ISLAND

by

Ruth M. Steiner

On an island in space. Turning, moving, yet going nowhere. Black and lonely. Cold. It was also flat, and if you weren’t careful, you could fall right off, down and out into the blackness of space.

The boy, lying in the sand on his back, knew these things. Things, which he knew either were or were not. He did not know of any others like himself, or what he himself was called. He knew it had to be something, from somewhere, some memory, deep in his mind. He only knew THEY would come at night. THEY never came out in the sunshine, or near his fire. He was able to keep THEY away. He could not discern their form exactly, but perhaps it was similar to his own.

The three orange suns glowed yet they provided little for warmth. How that was possible, with such dense, tropical setting all around him he had no idea, it just was. THEY did provide a lot of light, and for this he thanked the Deities, because it kept THEY away. THEY didn’t seem to be around very much during the day anyway, but the boy did not want to take chances. He was of the opinion THEY wanted to eat him. No, THEY seemed to prefer night. Faceless, formless things flitting just outside the fires, and he lit many to keep them away. Of course, this meant staying on the beach as much as possible, but he did not mind that.

He had a tiny hut for sleeping and it kept most of the rain out. He’d made a bed out of palm fronds and banana leaves that he changed or added to daily, using it to keep a fire simmering. He had to be careful with his pyres though; big enough to keep himself warm and scare THEY off, but not so big the wind would blow sparks around and catch his hut afire. Cooking out in the open was different of course, it had to be big enough and hot enough to cook his food, much of which he dried so it would keep for lean days. He’d gone hungry a few times early on and had learned that lesson by trial and error. He did not feel he was unintelligent, but he really had nothing to measure that by, except his survival. He was very proud of his hut, which at fifteen he’d built all by himself; not that he had a choice, it was either him or THEY.

He sighed when he saw clouds were rolling in, and not the pretty yellow ones. Sensing the slightest weather shift and noting the clouds were turning black, he knew that meant rain would be forthcoming. Sighing again he headed toward his hut. Just in time, he fastened the door shut, using the loops he’d created along with a sturdy branch. It will be a cold dinner tonight, he thought, never daring to make a make a big fire inside his hut. In there, it