VOLUME #1 | Excerpt, "The Colliding Worlds of Meghan Lake"
WRITTEN BY CHINYERE ONYEKWERE, AS SEEN IN PLANET SCUMM ISSUE #3 AND VOLUME #1
Illustrations by Tyler Berd; Read More in Planet Scumm Volume #1
Somewhere in rural America, mother and child enjoyed great outdoor scenery—ravishing rolling grasslands nestling a sparkling clean river. Mother laid down her giggling infant, wandered off barefoot to explore the soothing caresses of the river’s cool waters, blissfully unaware of unfamiliar things lurking behind her, inexorably honing in on her child.
Unworldly hands, with deft mysterious swipes, implanted a queer tracking device in the child’s elbow, activating hieroglyphic-like data inscriptions to glow intermittently within the flesh.
The infant metamorphosed into 6-year-old, merry Meghan Lake, an adorable compassionate soul whose love of nature found her sneaking out of her quaint little cottage on balmy nights to gaze upon the sheer expanse of inky black skies with joyful abandon‚ mad for the heavenly bodies that glowed like twinkling diamonds set in black velvety folds.
During a nighttime escapade that profoundly astounded Meghan, a star cluster, without warning, shot across the firmament before coalescing in dazzlingly mystifying formations, including slow-rotating, gigantic elliptical-shaped hoops.
She stood transfixed, mesmerized by amazing sights before her. Adrenaline kicked in, pumped, sent her hurtling back inside the cottage, yelling to her mother the magical things seen‚ but she was scolded, silenced for telling tall silly tales.
“I saw something wonderful!” screamed Meghan, running to her daddy, with girlish giddiness.
“You always do honey,” slurred her father with a lopsided grin that tugged at her heartstrings.
Debilitating bouts of stroke bound Meghan’s father to a wheelchair, bonded father and daughter in a history of deep love-trust dynamics.
But the irritating, fertile imagination of the child’s has no place in the world of harsh realities, the world of Meghan’s long-suffering mother.
Retreating to her room in a state of heightened alert, Meghan instinctively knew something momentous was about to go down, the nature of which her young mind could not begin to comprehend.
She fought gallantly to keep awake, but sleep, with the stealth of a night thief, plunged her into the abyss of nothingness.
Her eyes snapped open to an aberration of sights‚ blue, not black skies, above a roofless room. Time stood still in deafening silence as life-sized sparkling orbs cascaded down from impossible heights above, into Meghan’s seemingly expanded quarters.
When a weird-looking, resplendently robed androgynous humanoid being emerged from the floating sphere closest to Meghan, charged air particles from its aura stood her ponytails on end.
Employing an advanced form of telepathy, the being conveyed a message, synchronizing unfathomable language and thought patterns in English, directly to her mind.
Earth-shattering revelations terrified the 6-year-old, sending her careening into Daddy’s cold lifeless body whose sightless eyes would never reward her with warm tender smiles‚ ever.
